Clean Sweep

by Evie Mitchell

  She chuckled. "Just concentrate on me. It gets easier, promise."

  Oh, baby. I'll concentrate on you every day.

  I shoved the thought aside, subtly shifting. Turns out Laura was a magnet for my dick.

  "Okay," Liv called, settling in beside the camera guy. "Let's get this started." She looked at us, "quiet guys, and action!"

  Laura smiled straight at the camera. "If you're not a parent who breast feeds, then today we're going to be talking about one of the most important cleaning actions a parent can do in the kitchen when they have young ones, sterilizing bottles."

  She proceeded to explain the importance of good sterilization and the reason behind it – stopping bacteria. I listened, interested and at the same time a little aroused by how good she was at this. Laura… sparkled. She gave off this energy and warmth that said, I'm not here to preach, I'm here to help.

  And I lapped it up. I watched her dip the bottle into the soapy water, explaining where people should pay particular attention when cleaning.

  "These days, most bottles are dishwasher safe, but it's worth us knowing what to look for when we pull them out. Dishwashers do a great job, and save a lot of time, but they're not perfect." She then turned to me, "Erik, can you assist?"

  The cameras and lights following me as I dipped my hands into the hot water and followed her instructions.

  "Very good," she praised, holding up my cleaned nipple and bottle. "Now, we're going to talk about how to store this in an easy to organize way. As Erik knows, the worst thing is trying to find a bottle and lid during early morning feedings, am I right?"

  I chuckled, "try telling a three-month-old to wait for his food. You wanna know what hell looks like? My kid can definitely tell you."

  We both laughed.

  "Cut!" Liv yelled, immediately coming to stand beside us. "That was amazing, you guys. You're absolutely sparking together. The chemistry is," she raised a fist to her lips, pretending to blow on a burn. "Sizzling."

  I rolled my eyes. "Thanks, I think."

  "We're resetting for the pantry so that gives you five. Grab a drink or whatever and we'll get set up." Liv strolled away, disappearing back into the chaos.

  "Gonna admit, never thought I'd find learning how to clean interesting."

  Laura laughed, "no one ever does."

  "Do you want to have dinner with me?" The words flowed out of my mouth before I could rethink the proposition.

  Laura froze, her mouth forming a small 'o'. "Really?"

  "Shit, sorry," I ran a hand through my hair. "Fuck, that was bad right? Sorry."

  "No, I mean," she cleared her throat. "I'd love to."

  I perked up. "Serious?"

  "Yeah," a warm grin split her lips. "Seriously."

  Yes. Don't you fuck this up.

  I cleared my throat. "Great, I'll organize a sitter. Next weekend work?"

  "Sounds perfect."

  We grinned at each other for a protracted moment.

  "Laura, can you come here a minute?" My sister called from the living room, breaking the awareness between us.

  "No rest for the wicked," Laura sighed, rolling her eyes good naturedly.

  I watched her move through the room, unashamedly watching her ass, my cock throbbing his approval.

  You're not fourteen anymore, dickhead. Pull it together.

  I did, but god it was hard.

  Chapter Five

  Laura

  "Erik," I said, exasperated with the man. "What on earth are you doing?"

  He looked up from where he was seated in his massive garage, piles of junk haphazardly scattered around him.

  "Sorting." He lifted a year book he was currently perusing. "Gotta check if it sparks joy, right?"

  I sucked in a calming breath then slowly blew it out, incredibly aware of the cameras capturing every moment. "I left you here three hours ago. Three hours. What have you done during that time?"

  He gestured to a shoebox. "Figured what I want to get rid of."

  I heard a strangled laugh from the crew behind me.

  Calm, Laura. Stay calm.

  Erik, it turns out, may have moved from a tiny apartment to this giant house, but it hadn't stopped him from hoarding things in a storage container. A very large, very expensive storage container.

  I'd never seen Liv more excited than when we'd cracked that baby open and a box had immediately tumbled out, spilling its contents on the concrete entry. The contents being, wait for it, empty used tissue boxes.

  I still twitched thinking about it.

  "Magnificent television," Liv had declared, practically dancing with delight. "My brother is a hoarder!"

  Erik had protested, but even I had to admit he seemed to have difficulty letting things go. I mean, used tissue boxes?

  Erik had explained that he used the cardboard when creating lettering for different painting projects. But I wasn't so sure.

  It had taken a full day but we'd cleared all the junk and brought it back to his house, unloading in his garage.

  I tasked him with getting down to the bare minimum. In three hours, he'd only managed a shoebox. A freaking shoebox?

  Breathe Laura. Even perfect men have their issues.

  I crouched in the garage, reaching for the box and rummaging inside. There were three receipts, a stray button, two bent paper clips and a chocolate wrapper inside.

  "Erik," I said slowly, clearly. "Please don't tell me this is it."

  He tilted his head to the side, giving me an eyebrow lift. "Are you disappointed?"

  Calm!

  "I'm not disappointed, just… surprised." I said finally. "There's a lot still to get through if this is it."

  "It took me a while to double check the button wasn't from one of my existing shirts."

  I blinked once. Then again. My vision clouding with grey as Erik watched me. For a beat he looked utterly genuine then his lip twitched, his eyes brightening right before he burst out laughing, slapping a hand on his knee.

  Behind me, I heard the crew laugh.

  "You goddamned liar," I said, picking up a stuffed animal and throwing it at him. "You're already done!"

  He caught it easily.

  "Mostly," he agreed, still chuckling. Erik tossed the toy from hand to hand. "Gotcha."

  "Totally," I agreed, reaching for the year book. "Now show me your photo."

  He groaned, then flicked through presenting me with an image I wasn't expecting.

  "Glasses and braces." I laughed. "You were head of the drama club."

  "Four years," he agreed. "never did land an actual role, turns out I'm not very good. But I was enthusiastic."

  I patted him on the shoulder. "I'm sure that helped."

  He laughed, "not even once."

  I looked around at the space. "So, getting back to this mess. What can go?"

  Erik gestured at a pile of furniture and boxes. "That's for the house." He twisted, nodding at another rough pile. "That's for donations, and that," he pointed to the last rough pile. "Is junk and can be tossed."

  I eyed the second largest pile. "And exactly where in your house are these things going?"

  Erik hesitated.

  "You were going to say the attic, weren't you?"

  He huffed out a laugh, shrugging. "They're things the boys will use when they get older."

  I pushed up, crossing to the pile and beginning to sort through it. "Okay, the desk can go in your office – you need one. This," I held up a ratty jersey. "You really want to keep this?"

  "Hey," Erik snatched it away from me, hugging it to his chest. "This is a prized possession."

  I quirked an eyebrow, skeptical.

  "This, my friend, is a St Louis Blues jersey. A jersey that I wore every single day of the 2018-19 season. The season, Laura, where they started as the lowest team in the entire competition. Fifty-four years without a Stanley Cup. Everyone gave them zero chance of a change. They lost a coach before the season, and had a rookie goalie. No one but the fans believed in them.
Then they won eleven games in a row. They made it to the Western Conference finals. Then the Stanley Cup finals. Then they won the whole thing. The whole damned thing, Laura." He lifted the jersey. "It took me all season but I got every single signature." He gave me a serious look. "And I didn't even touch on the babies, puppy or Bob and Layla."

  Bob?

  "Are we talking about St. Louis, Missouri?" I asked. "You don't live anywhere near there."

  "But my ma is born and raised, and my grandparent's bleed blue all year long."

  "Well, hand it over then." I gestured at him. He hesitated then gave me the jersey, watching suspiciously as I smoothed it out then held it up to the light, examining the fabric and noting the placement of the signatures.

  "What are you going to do with it?" He asked, watching me like a hawk.

  "You'll see." I tossed it over my shoulder, gesturing towards the internal door. "Now, would you like to see your newly improved kitchen?"

  "Lead on."

  The crew followed us; a second crew already set up to capture Erik's reaction. He didn't disappoint.

  His mouth dropped open, his eyes bugging out of his head as he looked around. "I have white tiles."

  I laughed, nodding. "Yeah, turns out they just had years of grime build up. A deep scrub and soak and that backsplash looks like new."

  "Damn," he muttered, running a hand over the kitchen benchtop. "I haven't seen this since before I moved in."

  He wasn't wrong. The kitchen had been particularly heinous.

  I opened his pantry, gesturing for him to come see.

  "Holy… wow." He remarked, surprised at the orderliness. "I can actually see what I own."

  "I know!" I chirped, incredibly pleased by his reaction. "I even bought you a labeler so you can create your own containers in future."

  "Did you organize the contents of my fridge too?" he asked, looking a little shellshocked.

  "Actually…"

  Erik laughed, moving to the fridge, opening it, then laughing again. "You did."

  I shrugged. "Got to do a thorough clean."

  I guided him through the kitchen, explaining how we'd change a few cupboards to drawers, and showing him how to use the new kid safety locks we'd placed on them. I showed him where I'd stored his various items, and guided him through the new process I'd put in place to make his life easier by food prepping.

  "Seriously, Laura. I can't thank you enough." Erik said, looking overwhelmed. "It may not seem like a lot to you, or to others. I mean, it's just some drawers and some cleaning. But this is gonna save me. I haven't had time to do anything but eat, sleep, feed babies and work since the twins came. And even the sleep is in pretty short supply." He quirked a smile my way. "Seriously, thank you. This is huge, I feel like a weight has been lifted off me."

  "You're welcome." I finally said, emotion welling up. "Now, should we get started on your living room?"

  He laughed, "no rest for the wicked?"

  "No rest when there's mess," I corrected with a cheeky smile.

  "Then lead on, Queen of Clean."

  "And cut," Liv called. I snapped back to, suddenly reminded of the camera crew.

  "That was great guys, let's reposition in the living room. You've got five for a break while we get sorted."

  Erik reached out, capturing my hand before I could walk away. "Queenie, seriously. Thank you."

  I made a dismissive gesture with my hand. "Anyone can do this."

  "But you did it for me. And for my boys. And that means something."

  I tried to reply but found myself at a loss for words. Erik's expression was deadly serious, his gratitude palatable.

  "Any time," I finally said.

  He squeezed my hand and then let it go. "Guess we're in the living room?"

  "Uh, yeah." I replied. "Just give me a minute."

  I made my way to the bathroom, splashing a little water on my flushed face.

  Damn, that man is trouble.

  And yet, I didn't want to stay away.

  Silly girl.

  Chapter Six

  Laura

  On Friday, after a little over a week of constant filming, the camera guys stood down, leaving Erik and I with an empty house for the weekend.

  "Pizza tonight?" He asked, shutting the door on the last crew member.

  "Perfect," I answered, reaching down to scoop up a rag someone had left behind.

  Erik's house was slowly coming together. We'd cleaned the kitchen from top to bottom, reorganized his cabinets, and worked at streamlining his functionality in the kitchen. He'd already seen the benefit after a fairly hectic night with the twins, who'd both picked up a mild bug.

  "God," he scrubbed a hand over his face. "I'm wrecked."

  "Why don't you have a—" my suggestion was broken by the screaming of a baby. He sighed, straightening and moving to the stairs.

  "Coming buddy," he yelled, taking them two at a time.

  I hesitated, there was only Ulf's cry this time and I decided not to go up and offer assistance. Instead I went to the laundry room and took care of the piles of clothing, making a mental note to focus here next.

  Many didn't know it, but a well-organized laundry could save people hours out of their week. Also, pro-tip, buy wrinkle free clothing. Unless you were going to a business interview or needed to wear a suit week-on-week, investing in wrinkle free clothing freed you from a life of ironing. Best. Tip. Ever.

  I transferred the first load to the dryer, and set the next lot to clean. Ordinarily I liked to line dry, but with two babies in the house, clothing was a constant need.

  I picked up a folded load and went to the twins’ room, finding it empty. I put away their tiny clothes then went in search of Erik and the boys.

  I found them in Erik's room.

  I'm gonna have to clean the bedroom, cause I'm pretty sure my ovaries just exploded.

  Erik was passed out on the bed, the twins nuzzled into either side of him, all of them sleeping peacefully.

  DILF. The man is a DILF. I am in sooo much trouble.

  I stood there, just taking in the quiet peace of this beautiful man and his two sons. I couldn't deny the chemistry between us. Liv, the crew, even the nanny had commented on it. We revolved around each other, joking and laughing to such an extent Liv had asked if we wanted to co-host a show.

  Erik had declined, but I couldn't help but wish he'd said yes.

  And that's terrifying.

  My life was in New York. My family lived there; my core business was in there.

  But you could work from anywhere…

  I shook off the tempting thought. My career was just beginning, my world expanding in a way that I'd never imagined.

  Not to mention you've only just met the guy and he has two other pretty big priorities. Hell, you haven't even kissed him yet.

  Yeah, I really needed to get my head on straight and my mojo locked down. Travelling for a potential four months of the year wasn't exactly conducive to a stable family life.

  On silent feet, I backed out of the room, leaving the sleeping boys and their incredibly yummy daddy to their nap. I headed back to the laundry but startled as I entered the kitchen, finding Liv seated at the island.

  "Jesus," I said, hand pressed to my heart. "Warn a girl next time."

  Liv chuckled, holding up an open bottle of white wine, eyebrow raised in question.

  "Please," I said as I passed her. "Let me just get this last load of washing on and I'll be right back."

  I swapped out the wet clothes with dirty, setting to the spin cycle and loading the dryer before returning.

  Liv held her glass in one hand, twirling it absently, her head cradled in the palm of her other hand.

  "You okay?" I asked, sliding onto the stool beside her and reaching for my glass.

  "Mm," she murmured, her eyes glued to the wine.

  I let her have silence, both of us decompressing after a long week.

  "You know, I'm conflicted," Liv finally said, breaking the comp
anionable silence. "I have this friend, she's talented, a hard worker, hilarious, and oh so wonderful. She's also the host of my most popular show," she tossed me a grin but it faded a moment later, her eyes locked with mine. "And she's the first woman my beautiful, generous, loving brother has shown interest in for years. She sparkles when he speaks to her, he lights up when she enters the room."

  Liv paused, considering me.

  I swallowed past the lump in my throat, "and your dilemma?"

  "Do I encourage this because I know these two people would be perfect together, or do I discourage them knowing it's just as likely there will be heart break?"

  I opened my mouth, words failing me.

  "Hey, anyone home?" this came from the entry, the sound of a door slamming followed the voice. Upstairs, I heard a piercing cry, the noise waking the babies.

  Liv sighed, her lip pressing into a thin line. "Drink your wine, Laura. We're gonna need it."

  "Sorry!" The voice called cheerfully from the entry. I heard the sound of boots clopping down the hall then a head poked around the kitchen doorway.

  Furry. Red. Sasquatch.

  The yeti-come-man was the furriest person I'd ever seen.

  "Ah, I see the harpy is here," the man-beast said with glee, pulling off his cap and slapping it against his thigh. Dust poofed out at the action, gently floating to the floor.

  My eye twitched but I ignored the compulsion to get a dustpan and brush.

  "You must be Laura," the man bounded over, his actions like that of an oversized baby bear. "I'm Ian." His paw of a hand swallowed mine as he shook it enthusiastically.

  Unlike his cap, the rest of him was clean.

  "Nice to meet you," I said politely, shifting in my seat to make a move. "You want a beer?"

  "Don't fash yourself, I got it." He walked to the cupboard, removing a glass then reached for the wine. I saw Liv's eyebrows rise before she wiped her face clear. I ducked my head, hiding a smile.

  Ian took a sip then grinned, "I see you bought the good stuff. Nice taste."

  I nodded at Liv, "actually, Liv bought it."

  He considered her with renewed interest over the rim of his glass, swirling it gently.

  She ignored him, purposefully looking at me. "So, what are we doing for dinner?"