Clean Sweep

by Evie Mitchell

  Clean Sweep

  Book 1 – Thor's Shipbuilding

  By Evie Mitchell

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents, facts, sometimes random sentences are either the product of the author's imagination or are used in what she hopes is an entirely flattering but fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 by Evie Mitchell; All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be distributed, posted, or reproduced in any form by digital or mechanical means, including via Instagram, Facebook or Twitter, without prior written permission of the publisher.

  Editor: Nicole Wilson

  Dedication

  To the women in my Greedy Reader Book Club,

  this one is for you!

  And to my husband,

  for understanding that there's nothing I wanted more for my birthday than a new mop.

  Except maybe the deluxe model carpet shampooer

  but I'll wait for Christmas for that one.

  Books by Evie Mitchell

  Capricorn Cove Series

  Thunder Thighs

  Double the D

  Muffin Top

  The Mrs Clause

  New Year Knew You

  Short and Sweet Series

  Just Joshing

  Thor's Shipbuilding Series

  Clean Sweep

  Connect with Evie Mitchell

  Facebook

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  Clean Sweep

  Erik

  Nappies, poop and so many sleepless nights I was pretty sure in some countries this would be considered torture and my kids could be tried for war crimes.

  Yep, I was now a dad. A dad who had no clue what he was doing. A dad who somehow ended up with two kids who weren't his but I fuc- er, I mean - gosh-darn I loved them.

  Only... I needed help. A LOT of help. My house was a wreck and I needed sleep. Badly.

  Enter Laura -- the Queen of Clean.

  She had to be an apparition caused by my sleep-deprived mind. Cause god knew she was exactly what I'd always wanted in a woman, and one glance at her curves and pretty smile had me reconsidering the need for sleep.

  Laura

  Being offered my own TV show was a dream come true. As the Queen of Clean I had an opportunity to educate people about the importance of cleanliness.

  Only one look at my latest project and all I could think of was dirty, sweaty, filthy things.

  Erik Larsson is tempting me with sweet murmurings, beautiful babies and a helpless need for a spotless kitchen. The man knows my weaknesses... the only problem?

  I'm meant to be leaving for my next assignment at the end of the month.

  The Queen of Clean doesn't stick around... right?

  Warning: This hilarious read involves cute babies, gorgeously helpless men, and an appreciation for a clean house that goes over oh so well. Settle in greedy reader, you might need gloves for this delicious mess.

  Prologue

  Erik

  "So, they're mine?" I watched Sheriff Tristan Rodriguez nod from across the table.

  "They're yours," he confirmed, and I felt a weight lift from my chest even as another settled on my shoulders – responsibility.

  "It appears that she named you on the birth certificate. Even though the paternity test proves they're not yours by blood, child services have cleared you for full adoption." He stood, holding out a hand. I grasped it, blinking as he pumped it twice, a smile breaking across his face. "Congratulations, Daddy."

  "Th-thanks," I stuttered, feeling suddenly disconnected from this situation.

  "Good luck," he said, clasping a hand to my shoulder and giving a squeeze.

  "Umm, yeah," I muttered, sinking back down to the chair in his office as reality set in.

  Shit, I'm a dad. What the fuck do I know about being a parent?

  Beside me, my sons slept curled tightly around each other, their little hands clasped together. A week ago, on Christmas, these babies had been handed over to me. Their mother, a woman I vaguely remembered employing for a temporary period last year, had bequeathed them to me. I didn't know her circumstances, didn't really remember her beyond a fuzzy outline of a woman who answered our phones while my mother was on sick leave.

  But she'd remembered me. Remembered me enough to give me this responsibility. Her letter said she wanted me to be the man to raise her babies. To help them grow into good men. To give them the life and love she couldn't.

  "Fuck," I whispered. A hand slapped the back of my head, pitching me forward.

  "Ma!"

  "Language!" My mother admonished, settling into the chair beside mine and nodding at the babies. "You're not a bachelor any more, Erik. You can't be saying things like that around little ears."

  God, another reason I am woefully unprepared for this responsibility.

  I turned, panicked, to my mother. "Ma, I can't do this."

  "Yes, you can," she corrected, leaning over and straightening the blanket covering my sons’ legs. "You're just having jitters."

  "No Ma, I really can't." I stood abruptly, tugging at the tie around my neck, loosening it and the top two buttons of my dress shirt. I only ever wore a suit for three reasons – business, funerals, or weddings. Apparently, I could add becoming a parent to that list.

  "What do I know about kids? And two? Twins? How the fu- I mean, how am I meant to know what to do?"

  "You don't. Welcome to parenthood." Ma stood, straightening to her full height, reaching out to wrap me in her arms. "Erik, you're a good man. You care, you try hard, and you'll learn. Your father, your siblings and I are all here to help you. You're not doing this alone."

  I sighed, letting my mother reassure me. Call me weak, call me a pussy, I didn't care. I was a fucking momma's boy and proud of it. Hand me the shirt, cancel my man card 'cause I would die for this woman.

  "You're going to be a wonderful father." She sniffled, pulling back and then dusting my jacket as if lint had somehow appeared in the last two seconds. "Now, pull yourself together and let's get these babies settled."

  I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face. "Thanks, Ma."

  "Congratulations, Erik." She stretched on tip toes and I bent, letting her press a kiss to my cheek. "I'm proud of you… Daddy."

  I blew out a breath. "Okay," I turned, looking down at the twins still peacefully sleeping. My heart felt full, a helpless loving warmth suffusing every cell in my body. "Let's get my sons home."

  Chapter One

  Erik

  "Astrid," I juggled the phone on one shoulder, desperately bopping up and down as Leif screamed in my ear. "Please, I'm begging you. I have the buyer meeting me in less than thirty minutes. The nanny has bailed for the third day in a row, and Ma is in Capricorn Cove, wedding dress shopping with Ella." My eldest brother, Gunnar, was getting married to an amazing woman. I liked Ella, loved my brother, but today? I cursed them both. This wedding was damned inconvenient timing.

  I closed my eyes as Ulf started fussing. "Please, Astrid. Please, my favorite sister. Please. I'm begging you, help."

  "I'm at College," my sister told me, regret in her voice. My stomach dropped as my gaze shot to the calendar on the wall.

  "Shi – I mean, shoot." I muttered registering the date. I'd forgotten to change the month… twice. "When did you start back?"

  "Last week," she replied, and I heard laughter in the background. "Remember? I stayed with you for Spring Break."

  I blinked then sighed as Ulf joined his brother in an effort to break the sound barrier. A familiar smell floated up to me as Leif's butt b
ubbled under my arm.

  "Fuc- er, fudge," I muttered shifting Leif around.

  "What about Liv?" Astrid asked, referring to our sister.

  "She's in New York filming." Panic clawed up my throat.

  "Dad?" Astrid asked, sounding just as desperate.

  "With Ma."

  "Rune?" She asked, referring to our youngest brother.

  Desperate times, desperate measures.

  "I'll call him." I promised, praying for help. "Sorry to bother you."

  "Any time. Good luck. If you need, tell Rune that you're calling in my favor."

  "Favor for what?" I asked, juggling my son onto the changing table positioned in my office.

  "Don't worry about it, just call it in."'

  "Will do, thanks Sis."

  "Anytime."

  I hung up, dropping the phone to the side and immediately focusing on my son. "Right, let's get you cleaned up then call Uncle Rune."

  I pulled his onesie free, then gagged as I opened his diaper, finding a poo-ocalypse.

  "God damn it, Leif. You're three months old. How is this possible? How?"

  He gurgled at me, no longer screaming now his diaper was off. This one was my nudist. Even at three months he hated clothing. I knew he'd be ripping clothes off as soon as he gained some motor function.

  I cleaned him up as best I could, attempting to keep myself as clean as possible when shit was literally getting real.

  "I'm coming Ulf," I called, hearing him fussing. I finished dressing Leif, then lifted him up and set him on my shoulder. Leif gurgled happily against me, his little legs kicking as I moved to the crib and set him down, placing him beside his brother. Ulf, not one to enjoy being left alone, immediately ceased crying. He reached out, hand finding his brother. They both kicked their legs in unison, gurgling happily for a moment as they reconnected.

  "You guys are lucky you're cute," I told my sons, rubbing an arm across my forehead. "It makes up for last night's lack of sleep."

  I blew out a breath glancing at the clock.

  "Fu- er, fudge." I muttered, reaching for my phone and dialing my brother.

  "What?" He answered in his usually gruff manner.

  "I need a favor."

  "Nope."

  "Rune, just listen. Astrid said to remind you that you owe her and that I'm calling it in on her behalf."

  "Fuck," my brother muttered. "Fine, where are you?"

  Relief loosened my shoulders. "Work. The kids are changed and will need a bottle in about twenty. Once done they'll sleep but—"

  "Yeah, yeah. I got it," Rune hung up and I breathed a sigh.

  My brother was anti-social with a capital anti, but he loved his nephews. He also owned his own business, The Literary Academy, a bookstore slash café which specialized in new and used books as well as kickass coffee and meals. He'd inherited the failing store from my grandmother when she'd finally decided to retire, and within two years had turned it into a profitable venture.

  Everything taken care of (for the moment) I went to the bathroom to freshen up, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

  Fuck.

  Dark circles rimmed under blood shot eyes. My hair looked disheveled and in need of a cut, while a thick layer of unkept scruff decorated my cheeks.

  Shit. I am the living embodiment of parenthood.

  The twins were sleeping more now – thank God. But they were on alternating sleep cycles – fuck you, Satan. Which meant when one was sleeping, the other seemed determined to keep me busy.

  I pulled open the medicine cupboard, reaching for shaving cream, a shitty disposable razor, some eyedrops and a brush.

  As I cleaned up, I praised my ma for her foresight. In addition to being my receptionist and office manager, she stocked our workshop with all sorts of useful items for times exactly like today.

  Within five minutes I looked if not presentable then at least alive.

  "Good enough," I muttered, tossing the razor and stowing the other items.

  Back in my office, the kids were watching the mobile of little long ships, Vikings and Valkyries, and, for some reason, a dragon, dance and twinkle above their heads, their little legs kicking and arms flailing as they babbled happily.

  Yep, definitely my sons.

  I let them gargle away, listening with half an ear while I quickly packed a bag for Rune and mentally rehearsed my sales pitch.

  This new client was a heavy hitter with cash to spend. Wanted something sleek and expensive for his wife's birthday. I'd met Nick when he'd flown me out to London just before Christmas and my life went nuclear. The guy had heard about us opening a second shop in Capricorn Cove and was prepared to sign on the dotted line – hopefully. Turns out his wife was from there – strange considering less than six months ago I'd never even heard of the place.

  I wanted this sale. Bad. It'd be our first commission for the new workshop, and a great start to our expansion.

  At Thor's Shipbuilding we prided ourselves on our attention to detail. Our products, be it a custom wood kayak or an extravagant fifty-foot catamaran were the finest quality available.

  I had a team of twenty who worked on our projects. In addition, I had trusted contractors who I'd bring in to do custom work. This business model allowed for flexibility and financial security. If a contractor couldn't deliver to the quality I wanted, that was their issue. If the market fluctuated, I didn't have to let my core team go.

  Only, these days the core team was missing two. Gunnar was in Capricorn Cove setting up our second workshop and he'd taken our foreman, Mac, with him. I was pleased our business was expanding, god knew we had more projects on the books than we'd been able to keep up with. But the loss was hitting me hard.

  I'd trusted Mac to run the shop and keep shit going while Gunnar took care of the financials as well as working on the builds. I designed and built, but my role had shifted to handling clients over the last few years.

  Fact was, since Dad had semi-retired, Gunnar and I had grown the business. We now sold to exclusive clientele who wanted bespoke luxury. I designed and our guys built them that dream. We'd increased our reputation and built a sustainable business that allowed us to expand even while we enjoyed the finer things in life.

  Without Gunnar and Mac, much of the responsibility had fallen to me while I tried to find replacements. Yet another thing to add to my to do list, it could go right after find a new, more reliable nanny, open college funds for the boys, and pick up more formula.

  "Yo," Rune greeted as he entered my office. He stomped directly to the kids, leaning down to place a hand on Ulf's stomach. "They ready?"

  I picked up their bag, handing it over with a grateful, "yep."

  "Cool." My brother was six foot eight and built like a brick house. He looked like a mountain, sounded like a bear, and walked with the subtlety of a pack of stampeding buffalo. Unless he was trying to be sneaky, then the fucker was quiet as a whisper. He'd scared the fucking beejebus out of me more times than I cared to admit.

  "There's formula in the bag and-"

  "We're good," Rune muttered, lifting Leif and putting him in the double pram. Ulf came next and I watched him settle my son with gentle hands as he started to fuss. "We'll catch you at home."

  Shit.

  "Can't you take them to your place?"

  Rune lifted a brow, "no."

  "Look, just… they've had a rough few days, and the nanny is obviously fired. Or maybe she's just run away screaming."

  Can I join her?

  "Anyway, I haven't had a chance to clean anything up yet."

  Rune shrugged, pushing the pram through the door. "Later."

  "Fudge," I muttered with a sigh knowing exactly how bad my house was. Disaster zone? Nope. More like hazardous waste dump. "Ma's gonna hear about this."

  "Boss?" Ian poked his head around the door. "Guy in a fancy ass car just pulled up."

  I straightened, reaching for my suit jacket and shrugging it on. "Thanks. I'm on it."

  He fla
shed me a thumbs up then headed out.

  Right. If you get through this, get the orders sorted, post an ad for a new foreman shipwright, then get the boys fed, washed and in bed, you can have a beer.

  I blew out a breath, running a hand through my hair. "Let's hope this guy is worth it."

  An hour and a half later I waved the client off, a signed contract in my hand and a weight off my shoulders. Ian came over, clapping a hand on my shoulder.

  "He signed?"

  "He signed." I confirmed. "Looks like you guys have a job for at least a few more months."

  Ian grinned, his teeth standing out against the red of his beard. "Speaking of jobs, not to add to your load but your sister called."

  I froze, "Astrid?"

  "Nah, the harpy."

  I shuddered, closing my eyes. Liv.

  "Did she say what she wanted?"

  He shook his head, saw dust puffing out from his hair at the movement. "She don't talk to the likes of me."

  That's because she's got a crush on you.

  I wasn't one for meddling and he'd figure it out, soon enough.

  "Better call her then."

  "Aye," he muttered, a little of his native Scot slipping free.

  I pulled my mobile free, dialing my sister. She picked up on the first ring.

  "Just listen, don't speak," Liv barked.

  I braced. Experience had taught me to expect the worst when it came to Liv.

  Please not an elopement. I don't want to have to bury your body.

  "Rune called, your house is a pig sty. That's fine. I get it. You're a single dad, co-owner of a business, you got nanny problems. Erik, I. Get. It."

  I opened my mouth to speak but she cut me off.

  "But here's the deal. You can't live like that. And, I can't have my nephews living like that. So, here's what I'm gonna do for you."