Nancy said that there were only rare occasions when extra cleaning was needed before and after an event. The place was made for entertaining, but the last extra work at Billionaire Ranch—the name everyone called the place—was for Macon Wainright’s wake in July.
Billionaire Ranch wasn’t part of my route today, which was good since it ensured I didn’t run into him.
I’d started by cleaning a hair salon before they opened at ten, then a house on the south side of town. The family had four kids, three dogs, a cat, and chickens so the place was chaotic and always took a little extra time. It was after lunch and I had a new home on my list, further out of town. As I drove and ate a bar that counted as my lunch, I checked the written instructions Nancy had given me, then put on my blinker as I turned down a dirt road. I patted the steering wheel, as if sorry for taking my aging car on bumpy roads. It didn’t need any more rattles and loose parts.
When I lived in Billings and cleaned, we were sent out in pairs so no one was alone in a strange home. Safety in numbers. Out here, the town was so small, everyone knew everyone else. Or at least Nancy did. She only took on clients she knew and trusted. She’d told me while some clients might bring in ample money, they weren’t worth the headache. I certainly understood that and trusted her judgement. She paid on time and gave me cash.
I’d waitressed or worked for cleaning services since I was fourteen, even while I’d been going to college. While I wasn’t thrilled about cleaning toilets, waitressing was harder. My back always ached after the end of a long shift, tips weren’t guaranteed and not every customer was friendly. Cleaning was mostly done in an empty house, or the homeowner gave me plenty of room.
Except the hot cowboy yesterday. He’d come into the Wainright kitchen and sucked all the oxygen out of the place. And stole the thoughts from my head. I’d been mesmerized enough to hand over my cell and he shared his phone number.
The texts we’d shared this morning still had me questioning myself. I’d been mopping the tile floor at the beauty salon when my phone vibrated in my jeans pocket. I hadn’t changed my mind overnight, but I’d wavered when he’d texted Give US a chance.
God, I wanted to. To call him, talk to him, date him, kiss him, fuck him, marry him.
He was right, there was something between us. Instant. Intense. Completely insane.
I laughed as I pulled up in front of an older farmhouse, turned off the car. Marry him? The guy had wanted to go out with me, not make babies. Maybe the cleaning supply fumes were getting to me. I lost all reason when it came to Hot Cowboy. I didn’t even know his name and I was having insane thoughts about forever with him.
That was why I’d pushed him away. I was the only sane one in the Miles family. The levelheaded one. I thought before I fucked. That was probably why I never fucked. Or just the one time. I’d learned my lesson the hard way. On that and so many other things when it came to my mom, and especially Paisley.
I thought too much. I worried. I was jaded. Ruined by all the expensive lessons I’d learned.
But this guy was different. Paisley didn’t know where I was. How I felt had nothing to do with her. She wasn’t going to show up and lure him away. I had no competition from my identical twin.
Could I let my guard down though? The consequences were huge. I knew every one of them firsthand. I needed to let go. Go with my gut feelings for once. This guy? He made me crazy.
I was insane for even considering reciprocating his interest. I felt like my mother who had zero self-control. Horrible judgement. Absolutely no self-preservation skills. No look before you leap mentality.
I wasn’t going there. I couldn’t. I’d learned too much by all the guys coming and going from our tiny trailer. And Paisley using men. Using me—in different ways—but without any kind of remorse.
I was paying for their actions. Literally. Sitting here and dwelling wasn’t going to get the house clean, so I climbed out and grabbed my cleaning caddy from the backseat. The money earned from cleaning houses paid my small rent, fed me, and slowly built up my nest egg. I’d be able to get the mammogram and make one of my worries go away. The lump was just a hormonal cyst, not the C-word. The saved money wouldn’t be going in a bank this time. I wasn’t having her empty another account. It was one thing for her to steal my college money, another to delay the medical stuff. That was one negative behind looking exactly alike. At least for me. She’d benefited, that was for fucking sure.
Yeah, I wasn’t bitter at all.
The fall air was crisp. Clouds had rolled in, and the temperature had dropped. It wasn’t cold enough to snow, but there was frost on the ground in the mornings now. Snow would come soon and stick until spring.
The wind blew strong and I hurried up the porch steps. Setting my supplies down, I rang the doorbell. The place was two stories, wood siding. White paint. It was weathered, but not peeling. Maintained but there weren’t any flowers. No rocking chair or swing. No welcoming doormat. I had to wonder if a bachelor lived here.
No one came to the door so I rang again.
Footsteps came from around the side of the house. Two men and one of them was definitely a bachelor. One I had been trying to avoid.
Hot Cowboy.
My heart raced and my cheeks heated as he and the other man stopped just off the porch.
A slow grin spread across Hot Cowboy’s face. He hadn’t shaved since I saw him and he’d grown some scruff. Of course it only accentuated the angle of his jaw and I wondered how it would feel against my thighs. Not that I’d ever had a guy’s head there before, but I instantly imagined the position with him. My pussy clenched, eager for him. Why weren’t my mind and body in sync?
“There’s my beautiful girl,” he murmured in that deep murmur.
Oh fuck. I was in trouble now.
“Banging the help. Nice,” the other man said. I hadn’t paid him much attention, but now I couldn’t stop staring at him. Had he really said that? He was close to thirty with brown hair that was receding at a swift pace. While he wore jeans and a black, long-sleeved t-shirt advertising a motorcycle shop in South Dakota. He was unshaven, unkempt and there was no comparison between the two men on which one my ovaries liked.
Hot Cowboy wasn’t thrilled with the guy’s words. His hand shot out and gripped the guy’s shirt. “What the fuck did you just say?”
The jerk’s face went red, and he held his hands up in surrender. “Hey man, just stating the obvious.”
“Leave my woman alone.”
“You make your woman clean your house? I knew we’d get along.”
“Cunningham, get the fuck off my property,” Hot Cowboy snarled, then pushed him toward the parked pickup truck.
“So no commission then?” the guy called, climbing in the truck, laughing.
He peeled down the driveway, dust flying.
When all was quiet and we were sure he was gone, Hot Cowboy came up onto the porch. I had to tilt my head back to meet his concerned eyes.
“Sorry about that,” he said. “The fucker had no manners.”
I’d met a jerky guy before. This one wasn’t new.
“I… you want me to clean your house?” I almost squeaked. I wasn’t confused, but I was flustered and that made the stupid question pop out. Of course he wanted me to clean his house. Nancy had given me the address.