by Jill Shalvis
“Ruthie said her phone’s in her desk but she might have locked it in there.”
“I’ll get my key,” Clover said. He followed her back into her office and Clover took the key off the wall hook. “You know, it is really not like her to leave her phone. She okay?”
“She’s fine. She probably has it. She’s probably pulling some kind of prank on me by sending me back here. There’s a real possibility there’s a snake in there,” Erick said. “I know my daughter and she knows I hate snakes.”
“I know her, too. So stand back. I’ll protect you. Ready?” She stuck her key in the desk drawer lock.
“I hate snakes,” Erick said.
“Set.”
“Really hate snakes.”
“Go.” She opened the drawer and saw… “It’s her phone.”
“No snakes?” Erick had his eyes shut so tight it looked like he was in pain.
“No snakes. She actually forgot her phone. Wow.”
“Maybe she is coming down with something. I hope she’s not sick. You think this is a sign of a brain tumor or something?”
“She seemed fine today.”
“Okay. I’ll get going, then. According to Ruthie, I have to find a twenty-four-hour UPS store and demand they ship this to her overnight and the driver has to be hot, not normal hot—UPS-driver hot.”
“That is a very specific request.”
“Is Sven UPS-driver hot?” Erick asked as he stuffed the phone into his coat pocket.
“I have no idea what Sven looks like. Your daughter is trying to get me to hire a male escort this week because my family is coming to my house for Thanksgiving.”
Erick lifted his chin and cocked an eyebrow.
“You all do Thanksgiving a little differently than most people.”
Clover laughed. “Oh, no, we do it the traditional way. Too much food and tons of criticizing family members for their life choices.”
“Who’s the target?”
Clover pointed at herself. Erick barked a laugh.
“You? The target?”
“Me. The target.”
“I don’t buy it. Why you?”
“Why not me?” she asked.
“Because you own and operate your own business. You know more about plants than anyone in this entire state. You’re respected by your employees, even my daughter, who doesn’t respect anyone or anything, and you’re…you know.”
“What?”
“Easy on the eyes,” he said.
“I am?”
“My eyes aren’t complaining,” he said. “Just saying, my mom’s always trying to get me to shave. She hates beards. But Ruthie won’t let me shave it off.”
“Why not?”
“One of her friends made the mistake of telling Ruthie her dad was ‘hot.’ Ruthie said I either had to grow a beard or wear a bag over my head.”
“The beard was the right choice.”
“But you don’t have a beard from what I can tell.” He narrowed his eyes at her face and Clover turned left and right, giving him a good look at her nonexistent beard. “Nope. No beard. No reason to pick on you for anything.”
“They’ll find a reason. They always do.”
“I have a cousin in jail for bouncing checks, my grandfather’s favorite hobby is sitting on his porch shooting his rifle at crows, and my aunt raises pygmy goats inside her house so, you know, your family should count their blessings.”
“I’m thirty. I’m not married. I’m not dating anybody. I have no kids. I could have a billion dollars and be crowned Queen of the Mountain and that still wouldn’t be enough for my family.”
“Ah…that explains Sven.” He nodded sagely.
“I’m about ready to hire him to play boyfriend for a week if it’ll shut my family up about my biological clock for one day. Which reminds me—you free this week?”
“You asking me to be your Sven?”
Clover laughed. “No, I was actually asking you if you could fix my deck.”
“Oh. Well, yeah. Sure. Big job?”
“Two loose boards and a broken slat.”
“What color stain?”
“Clear. Homewares brand.”
“I have some of that in my truck. I can come tomorrow morning, if it’s not pouring.”
“I’ll write down my address for you,” she said as she scribbled her home address on a note card and passed it to him. “I appreciate it. I have a fire pit and I know the kids will want to use it for marshmallows.”
“I can get it all done in an hour. My treat.”
“I pay people for the work they do. No freebies.”
“You gave my daughter a job when nobody else would. I owe you.”
“You don’t owe me a thing. Ruthie’s great at this job.”
“I know she is, but she wouldn’t have been great at her job if you hadn’t taken a chance on her. Nobody wanted to give a sixteen-year-old girl with green hair, a horrible attitude and a criminal record a job except you. Not even McDonald’s. Please. Let me fix your deck as a thank-you for keeping my kid out of trouble.”
“Fine. Since it’s only an hour’s work. Then we’ll call it even.”
“Great. See you tomorrow morning around eight.”
“Thanks, Erick. Have a good night in your empty house.”
“You, too,” he said. He started for the door and it was then that Clover realized that Ruthie was sneakier and more evil than she’d ever given the girl credit for. She’d left her phone here on purpose so Erick would have to come back for it and they’d be alone together. Clover would be angry except for one thing—she did really like Erick. And for that reason alone she said what she said.
“Hey, Erick?”
He turned back around in the doorway, and he did it so quickly it was as if he’d been hoping she’d say something to stop him.
“Yes, Clover?” he said in a playfully husky voice.
“I have something weird to ask you.”
“You’ve met my child. You know I can handle weird. Ask it.”
“Do you…would you…maybe would you want be my Sven this week?”
Don’t miss
HER NAUGHTY HOLIDAY by Tiffany Reisz,
available November 2016
wherever Harlequin® Blaze® books and ebooks are sold.
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Copyright ©2016 by Tiffany Reisz
ISBN-13: 9781488025532
The publisher acknowledges the copyright holders of the individual works as follows:
Copyright © 2008 Jill Shalvis
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