Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 116636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
“Glad you could fit me into your schedule,” he said slyly as I stepped inside. I bit my tongue. Literally. I couldn’t afford to make him mad for any number of reasons, not least of which was the fact that the MC was my best-paying client. If I got the strip club contract, they’d be the biggest, too. All cash. I might not be suffering for work—but there’s work and there’s work. The club wasn’t afraid to pay well in exchange for good service, and they didn’t cheap out when it came to getting what they wanted. Expanding to take on their account would be worth the hassle.
But business aside, I was also pretty sure that if Reese got angry enough, bad things might start happening. Stabby, shooty things. I based this on the impressive display of collectible knives and guns hanging over the mantel in the living room.
“Nice weapons,” I muttered, eyes wide. He laughed.
“Most of those were my dad’s,” he said. “Although I’ve picked up a few along the way myself, too.”
Lovely.
I turned to face him, offering my most businesslike smile.
“Can you show me around the house?” I asked. “I’d like to get a feel for the place, see how much work I have ahead of me. I have five hours before I need to pick up Jess.”
“She doing okay?”
Hmm … How to answer that? I met his gaze, wishing his eyes weren’t so bright and blue. It wasn’t fair for a man to have muscles like that and such gorgeous eyes. And those lips, all framed in just a scruff of beard …
“She’s angry at me and angry at the world,” I said finally. “And I said something stupid to hurt her feelings, which didn’t help things. Hard to know what direction we’re going.”
“You wanna talk about it?”
That startled me. I coughed, looking away. Why on earth would he offer to talk to me about Jessica? Second man to ask today, I realized, thinking back to Nate at lunch. Great. I was surrounded by sexy men and all they wanted to do was discuss my shitty parenting techniques.
“No. Let’s just get this done, okay?”
He raised a brow, holding up his hands in amused surrender.
“Works for me,” he said. “C’mon.”
We started by going up the narrow stairs to the second floor, which had three bedrooms and a bathroom. The place was old, a farmhouse built at least a hundred years ago, and wasn’t anything fancy—just comfortable and homey. Colorful rag rugs covered wooden floors, and two of the bedrooms obviously belonged to his daughters. The third held a guest bed.
I figured it said something positive about him that he hadn’t boxed up their things or redecorated when they moved out.
Guess nobody is all bad.
The homey vibe continued downstairs, despite the display of weaponry in the living room. The dining room held a china cabinet full of things that must’ve been Heather’s. Pictures covered the walls and there were even some plants, although they weren’t looking particularly healthy at the moment.
I wondered if his daughter had been the one to take care of them?
The plants weren’t the only things suffering from neglect. Dust had settled on most of the surfaces, water spots covered the faucets, and the kitchen garbage seemed to be full of paper plates and old carryout containers. A few unwashed glasses sat in the sink … no other evidence that any cooking had taken place in the past month.
“I take it you eat out a lot?”
“Busy life. Bedroom is back here.”
The bedroom.
Don’t be a dork, I told myself. You’ve cleaned hundreds of strangers’ rooms over the years and it’s no big deal.
“I need to get my supplies,” I said, chickening out. I’d look at his bedroom later, after I got the rest of the house whipped into shape. Thankfully it shouldn’t be that hard a job—there might be a lot of dust, but the place wasn’t filthy. I got the impression he didn’t spend much time there at all, which had to limit the mess.
“You need help carrying anything?” he asked, trailing me to the door.
“Nope. In fact, it will be easier for me if you go away for a couple hours.”
He studied me speculatively, and I rolled my eyes.
“What do you think I’m going to do—steal your guns? I don’t even like guns. It’s going to be noisy and dusty and you’ll be in my way.”
Hayes gave a startled snort, and I realized he was holding back a laugh. Okay. That was better than him menacing me.
“I’ll be out in the shop,” he said. “Come find me if you have any questions.”
“Sure thing,” I replied, taking another quick look around.
The sooner I got this done the better.
Nearly three hours later I’d scrubbed, dusted, wiped, and washed the entire house. Not deep cleaning—no windows—but the surfaces were dirt-free and sanitized, the carpets were vacuumed, and the dust bunnies had been executed for crimes against humanity.