Page 14 of Clean Sweep
At least my housefeltlike fall.
When I stepped into the laundry room to shove a load in the washer just to have something to do, I stopped. A vacuum and a bucket filled with an assortment of cleaning supplies sat on the floor. I frowned. Tanner must have left this behind yesterday.
For a man as thorough and detailed as he’d been in cleaning, such a massive oversight seemed out of touch. Then again, hadn’t Celeste mentioned he’d been here all day? Maybe he rushed to get to the shop to pick her up because he didn’t want her to wait.
For almost a full minute, I chewed on my bottom lip in indecision. Should I call him?
No, that seemed weird too. What would I say?Hey, great job cleaning up my disaster of a home.That would be a little too on-the-nose about the situation. In general, I didn’t like to acknowledge my messy house, even though everyone could see it. Denial made a cozy place to curl up for a while. Acknowledging a disaster just . . . made things a little too real.
Besides, if the number I’d called was a work phone, it might not even take text messages. I dismissed that thought almost as soon as it came. Who doesn't have cell phones these days? When I’d called before, he’d sounded out and about, not stuck in an office.
Besides, I didn’t know where his office technically lived. The postage-stamp sized town of Pineville meant I could recite all the stores and their owners by heart, and T&C Cleaning wasn’t one of them. He probably stored all the supplies in that massive truck he picked Celeste up in.
Deciding there was nothing for it, I sent the same number a text message.
Leslie:Hey! This is Leslie Miller. Actually, it’s Leslie Hill now. Anyway, the house looks great. Thanks so much for the help. A vacuum and bucket of cleaning supplies was left behind. Can I bring it to you somewhere?
Was that too passive-aggressive of a way to let him know I’d changed my name? No. That was the least weird way to do it at this point.
Could I actually meet him somewhere? My gaze darted to the clock. Landon and his supposed fiancée would be here any moment now. Technically, I could take the vacuum to Tanner if it was somewhere local. Would prefer to, in fact. The thought of Tanner coming here and seeing me face-to-face in my house seemed mortifying.
But why?
Anyone else? I wouldn’t have cared. I blamed Dahlia and Katelyn. They’d built him up, now his reputation preceded him and made me nervous. I couldn’t deny my curiosity about him being asilver fox.
He’s not a guy,Dahlia had said.He’s a man.
“Of course he’s a man,” I muttered to myself. “What’s the difference anyway?”
The difference was probably something significant that I didn’t want to face, so I snuggled deeper into my denial and pulled the blanket over my shoulder.
My phone buzzed with a new message.
Tanner:Ah, my bad. Can I drop by to pick them up in ten? Celeste and I are on our way to our first job of the day.
Dread pooled inside me. If it had been only him, I could have left the bucket and vacuum on the front porch and never had to face him. With Celeste, however, I wanted to see her.Shouldsee her.
When it came to teenagers, everyone in the village had a responsibility to be present.
Leslie:Of course.
The vacuum and bucket waited for their owners in the living room, next to the front door, while I pulled plates out of the cupboards and arranged silver utensils.
My thoughts flittered around like deranged butterflies, going from Landon and his girlfriend-I-wouldn’t-call-a-fiancée-just-yet, to Blake and homework, and back to Tanner and the note he left behind.
That blasted note about the lemon scent. Had it been an attempt to be witty? Had he been serious?
Why couldn’t I get him out of my head?
The fact that a male had come to my house, organized it, straightened it, and cleaned it better than anything I had ever done didn’t startle me. If he held that skillset, that was fine. But the fact that . . . what?
That someoneelsehad done it? Someone else who was reputedly attractive, potentially available, and could be judging me for the state of my house?
That bothered me.
How old was I? Twelve?
I growled and shook my head. Fresh cornbread browned in the oven, only momentarily drawing my attention away.
