Page 15 of Clean Sweep
The Tanner Situation bothered me mostly because he didn’t have to help as much as he did. He didn’t need to organize my cupboards, for one. Or wipe down my dust boards for another. Fix my disposal, my dishwasher, and a squeaky window.
Sure, I’d said deep clean, but he’d taken it a step farther than that.
Why?
Getting to the heart of my agitation set my teeth on edge, because then I knew exactly why I was upset about Tanner and my perfectly immaculate house.
He’d done it out of pity.
The residents of Pineville had been wonderful to me for the past twelve months. Like my aunt, they congratulated our decision to divorce because, for the last several years, we hadn’t been all that happy anyway. Maybe longer, if I were frank with myself, but getting caught up in children and life and the flow of things meant we hadn’t really noticed the drifting apart.
Until we did.
After Ethan moved out, friends had dropped off chocolates, flowers, dinners, offered to help drive Blake around before he had his official license, and any number of things. The help was heartwarming and lifesaving and I appreciated every act that came my way.
But now?
Now I had this. It had been a year since the official divorce, and two since the separation and discussion of it. What mourning that needed to happen had already happened. Pineville could let me take back control of our life now, thanks.
Tanner Beck included.
This idea percolated in my mind while I stewed around the kitchen, searching for utensils and items that I didn’t really need. When a knock came on my door, I’d worked myself up into a gentle tizzy that already had a tone of scolding. So when I ripped open the door, I knew exactly what I’d say.
And everything died on my lips.
Celeste stood on the porch next to, presumably, her father. Startled, I quickly glanced at him from feet to head, and my heart gave an irritating little patter that felt like betrayal.
Holy cripes.
Dahlia wasn’t kidding.
Tanner Beck was a mananda silver fox. He wore a pair of work boots and well-worn jeans that fit the way they were made to be worn—just right. He had an old black t-shirt underneath an unbuttoned flannel shirt the color of the deepest forest.
A sculpted face had silver stubble, just present, as if he forgot to shave that morning. He kept his hair cut short, particularly around the ears and the sides, but slightly longer on top where it carried a dark color with flecks of running gray. His eyes were a gentle, yet deep, hazel.
Such a striking gaze gave me pause once it met mine.
This silver fox had just scrubbed my really-gross-I-have-a-teenage-boy toilets. Before I could make an utter fool of myself, which I felt on my immediate horizon, Celeste threw herself into my arms with a squeal.
“Leslie! Hi. This is your place? It’s adorable!”
I returned her hug, grateful to have an excuse to look away and gather my thoughts. My throat felt a littletoo tight for my own comfort.
“Thanks! I’ve lived here forever so I think it’s a bit frumpy.”
She shook her head as she laughed. “Anything you touch being frumpy? No way. It’s perfect.”
Did Tanner chortle inside at that? She hadn’t seen my perfectly frumpy, disastrous house before he got his capable hands on it.
I pulled away to smile at her. As usual, she looked adorable in an outfit that had the markings of a professional designer, but had likely been scrounged together from discount store steals and serious dedication to flash sale sites.
A pair of distressed jeans, an oversized sweatshirt, and old sneakers completed her ensemble. The way she’d pulled her hair into a messy bun and kept it back with a headband had me totally impressed.
Celeste pushed a stray lock of hair back into her bun as she peered inside around me.
“Where’s Blake?”
“Want to come in?” I rallied my courage and flashed Tanner a quick look to include him in the invite. He hesitated, but Celeste rushed in ahead of him.
