Page 8 of Coming Clean

My mind went immediately to Connor. Connor was there cleaning my house, maybe wiping the floor on his hands and knees.

That would be a sight to see. What if Connor were mine?

Mine to touch, to taste? Fuck. A man I had spent hours fantasizing about when I was younger was right in front of me, basically saying, "Hey, let's fuck," but I had absolutely no interest in him. All I wanted was Connor.

The way Tony looked at me made me feel unclean, whereas Connor could tell me to strip and get on my hands and knees, and I'd never feel dirty, only turned on.

Well, maybe a little dirty, but the good kind, not the my-soul-has-been-soiled kind.

Connor seemed like an honorable man. Tony, on the other hand, was a creep, and always had been.

"I'm trying to understand what's happening here," I said. "You haven't seen me in a decade, but since I'm gay and helped you out in high school, you figured I'd be an easy lay now that you're ready to admit what you want?"

Tony sputtered. "That's not?—"

"Oh, I misunderstood then. You just want to chat and catch up on old times, like when you tried to get me to do your work while you were off doing the cheerleading squad?"

Tony grinned. "I did my share of the football team too."

Of course he had. "I don't need to have someone waiting for me at home in order to turn you down, Tony. I've got my dignity right here with me. I'll see you around."

I walked away and didn't look back.

A few hours later, after lunch and a bit more actual work, I headed home.

When I was a block away, I could see Connor's truck still parked in the driveway.

I picked up my pace, in case Connor was about to leave.

Foolish, maybe, but I didn't care. I was going to get myself in trouble with this obsession.

At least I wasn't stupid enough to have a "drink" with Tony.

I laughed to myself, imagining Tony actually suggesting I "come up to see his etchings.

" What a creep! There was another car in the driveway too, something on the smaller side, a Civic or a Corolla.

Connor had said one of his employees would be joining him.

"Hello!" I called when I stepped into my foyer. "I'm back."

"In the kitchen," Connor called. "We're just finishing up."

I set my bag on the table in the foyer that had become a catch-all for me.

When I reached the kitchen, I was disappointed to see Connor replacing the rug in front of the sink and putting the chairs and stools back in place instead of scrubbing the floor on his hands and knees.

Maybe one day I'd stay for the whole cleaning just for the chance to watch Connor's ass while he scrubbed.

I’d finally made the decision to list the house, but my chances of selling it fast were slim to none. Connor would probably be back several times. I couldn't say I minded that at all.

A woman walked in from the dining room. "Oh, you must be Dr. Parks."

"I am, but please call me Jeremy."

Connor turned from arranging the stools at the bar. They were perfectly spaced and pushed in exactly the same amount. "This is Sabrina. She's been working with me today."

"Hi!" Sabrina waved in greeting. "I love this house, by the way.

" She looked a few years younger than Connor, who I guessed was in his early thirties like I was.

She was tall and willowy, and she'd pulled her long black hair into a ponytail.

Her coloring made me guess she was Italian, but whatever her ethnic origins, she managed to be exquisitely beautiful and still have an easy-to-talk-to vibe.

"Thanks," I replied. "The house truly is gorgeous. I liked it as a kid, but I didn't fully appreciate it then."

"You lived here growing up?" Sabrina asked.

I nodded. "The house has been in my family for a long time. It became my aunt's after Grandma died. Then my mom died when I was ten, and my dad… well, he'd left long before that, so my aunt and uncle took me in."

"Oh, that was good of them," Sabrina said.

I didn't want to get into my mixed feelings about my aunt and uncle. "Yes, it was."

"But you weren't happy here?" Sabrina asked, obviously reading the subtext of my reluctant answer.

Normally, I gave as little information about myself as possible, but Sabrina was the sort of person who seemed to truly care about the answers to the questions she asked, so I let myself spill the details. "Not really, no. My aunt and uncle weren't cruel or anything. They gave me a good home."

"But not a warm one?"

Was she a mind reader? "No. They didn't really do warmth."

Sabrina nodded. "I was a nanny for a couple like that. They were good people but didn't know how to show affection to their kids."

Connor finished arranging the last of the furniture. "Let me show you what we've done."

I would be happy for Connor to show me anything. "All right, but I can already tell everything looks fantastic. How did you make it all so shiny?"

Connor laughed. "Trade secret."

"My cabin never looked like this after I cleaned it." Which hadn't happened all that often.

I followed Connor through the downstairs, oohing and ahhing over how much better things looked. Even the rooms that had looked perfectly clean to me before were much more appealing. I could see a buyer going nuts over the house now.

"You ready to check out the upstairs?" Connor asked.

"Sure." We reached the top of the main stairs and headed into my aunt and uncle’s—my bedroom.

Connor stood in the middle of the room, right at the foot of my bed.

Just the proximity of the gorgeous man to my bed sent tingly feelings racing through me.

What would happen if I pushed Connor down on it?

"We cleared all the cobwebs, washed the baseboards, dusted…" Connor's spiel continued, but I wasn't listening. I was staring at the bed. I'd never seen one made up so tight and perfect. It looked like you could have actually bounced a quarter on it.

"Were you in the army?" I blurted out, not sure if Connor had finished his explanation or not.

"The Marines," Connor replied, sounding slightly offended.

"Shit." Did I say that out loud?

"You got a problem with Marines?" Strangely, Connor didn't look angry, though. He looked disappointed.

"Uh, no. It's just… I worry they'll have a problem with me." Fuck! Why did I say that?

Connor frowned. "Why?"

Why? Wasn't it obvious? Most people knew right off, like I was wearing a sign. "Um…" Wow, I was articulate today. "Because I'm gay."

Connor shrugged. "I don't care if you sleep with three-eyed aliens as long as you pay your bills. I'm just here to keep your house clean."

I wished that wasn't all Connor was here for. I looked at the bed, and heat rose into my cheeks. Fucking a straight Marine, what a stereotypical fetish. I gave a nervous laugh. "I’m glad you don’t have a problem with it.”

“Life’s too short to dismiss a whole group of people because you’ve made assumptions about them. That’s one of many things I learned out in the desert.”

“That’s a good lesson.”

"Yes, the rest of them mostly weren’t.”

“I…” What was I supposed to say to that?

Connor held up a hand. “Don’t. I shouldn’t have said anything. Let me show you the bathroom.”

I barely registered the rest of the tour, noticing only that things smelled fresh and looked shiny, brighter somehow, as if cleaning so thoroughly allowed more sun inside.

But my mind was stuck on Connor’s moment of vulnerability.

When he’d mentioned the desert, he’d looked so sad, so…

broken. It made me want to know all of Connor better, not just his fine ass.

I wondered about the other lessons Connor had learned.

I could only imagine how horrible they might have been.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Connor said. “How do things look to you?”

I glanced around the upstairs hallway. Connor’s golden gaze caught mine, and all I could manage was a nod.

Finally, after too many seconds of silence, I forced out some words. “It looks incredible. I could never have done this.” The house truly did look great. It would have taken me a week to get it anywhere near this clean, and by then half of it would have been dirty again.

Connor had to know he was good at his job, but my simple compliment made him smile in a way that eased his hard edge. I was already contemplating how to get him to smile like that again. I could easily become obsessed with that smile.

We finished the tour of the second floor and went on to the third. By the time we finished, I was seriously impressed. How had he and Sabrina done so much so fast? “You should write a book of cleaning secrets. I’d love to know how to clean the whole house this fast.”

“It did take most of the day,” Connor pointed out.

"Yes, but look at the place.”

“I’m glad you’re pleased.” Connor smiled widely enough to show dimples.

I could think of many more ways Connor could please me. When we returned to the first floor, Sabrina was heading out the door with her supplies in hand. “It was nice to meet you,” she said. “Hopefully I’ll see you again.”

“Nice meeting you too.” I usually said the phrase as a rote response, but this time I meant it sincerely. “Have a good weekend.”

“I will. A friend and I are going to see A Midsummer Night’s Dream tomorrow night at the amphitheater.”

“Oh, that’s my favorite Shakespeare play.” I couldn’t believe I hadn’t realized it was on this summer’s performance calendar.

“Then come with us,” she suggested.

“Sabrina.” There was a warning in Connor’s tone.

“What? He just moved here. I’m trying to be nice.”

“I only moved from Black Mountain, but I appreciate the offer.” And for once, I really did.

“We tried to get Connor to come, but he claims he doesn’t understand Shakespeare.” She held her hand up to her mouth and stage whispered to me. “He’s not as dumb as he likes to pretend, though.”

“You should try it, Connor,” I insisted.

Connor shook his head. “It’s not my thing.”

“Shakespeare isn’t meant to be some lofty thing for the intelligentsia. In his day, the plays were just regular, everyday entertainment, like a sitcom.”

Connor frowned. “But it doesn’t make any sense. All those weird words, and the rhyming and shit.”

“I teach Shakespeare. I promise I could help you understand it.”

“You mean you’re going to go?” Connor asked.

“I would if you wanted some insight.” I realized how presumptuous I sounded, probably exactly what Connor expected of a snooty professor.

“If you promise to make it interesting, I’ll go.” Connor looked oddly shy, his cheeks pink.

I would be willing to make the evening very interesting indeed, but I doubted Connor would go for that. I should have told Sabrina I already had plans. Connor wasn’t just hot, he was intriguing, and I could easily fall for him. That would be a big mistake. “Um…”

“Chickening out?” Connor asked. “Realizing maybe not everyone gets Shakespeare?”

Connor knew exactly how to get to me. “Absolutely not. The only people who don’t get Shakespeare are people who haven’t been introduced to it properly.”

“And you’re the man to do that?”

I could introduce him to a whole new world. “I am.” The words came out low, husky. I hadn’t meant them to, but instead of the odd look I expected from Connor, the man simply stared at my lips, eyes wide. Oh, fuck.

Sabrina cleared her throat, and I looked her way, glad for the distraction. “So both you boys will be joining us then?”

“Um…” Connor looked everywhere but at me.

“Yes,” I replied.

Sabrina beamed. “Perfect. The show starts at seven, but you need to get there early, like six, to get a good seat. I always bring a picnic and have dinner there while I wait.”

I nodded. I loved hanging out before the plays. “I go to the plays every summer, but I’ve been so busy I hadn’t even thought of it yet.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I mentioned it then,” Sabrina said. “Connor can pick you up since the parking gets tight.”

I looked at Connor, who had a panicked expression. “You don?—”

“I—”

“Don’t argue,” Sabrina ordered.

Neither of us did.