He didn’t like feeling helpless. The second Maggie’s deposit landed in his bank account, he made a fat donation to the local food bank after his beloved Mama B mentioned that the shelves were getting bare. His family had taught him to save and to share. Because it wasn’t right if he went to bed with a full stomach if his neighbor’s was empty.
The Wrights built bigger tables.
While he scrambled to swap laundry from washer to dryer in the basement, he thought about tables and solutions. He heard his front door open and the sound of his brother’s shiny loafers on the hardwood above. Silas took the stairs two at a time.
“It’s not as bad as I thought it would be,” Michael said, eyeing Sy’s charmingly disheveled living room.
“Haven’t been here much,” Silas confessed. “But Maggie’s place is getting pretty crowded, which is why I invited her to dinner here.”
“And then remembered you haven’t cleaned in a month,” Michael assessed.
It was more like six weeks. But who was counting?
“Which is why I called you. You’re the Black Mr. Clean, and I’m throwing myself on your mercy. I have the sheets in the dryer. What do I do next?”
Michael had always been the tidy type. Even as a child, he’d appreciated order and efficiency. His bedroom had looked like a museum to nerdy childhood, with action figures neatly arranged on shelves and books alphabetized on a bookcase that Sy’s dad helped him build. Hell, for his fourteenth birthday, Michael had asked for a desk in his room so he didn’t have to do his homework in the kitchen anymore. As an adult, the man had a favorite furniture polish, a recipe book on household stain removers, and a robot vacuum cleaner.
And right now, he was Silas’s only hope.
“Well, since you’re the adult version of Pigpen, I suppose I could offer some assistance,” Michael shot back.
“Teach me your ways.”
His brother scanned the space. “Your table is buried under six months of paperwork,” he observed. “So serve dinner on the deck. What are you having?”
“Steaks, baked potatoes, and whatever green things I can find in the fridge.”
“Good. What time is she coming?”
“In two hours.”
“Perfect. I have to be out of here before six anyway.”
“Have plans?” Silas asked, grabbing his cleaning supplies from under the kitchen sink and piling them on the counter.
“Maybe.”
He caught the smile in his brother’s voice and looked up.
“Do you have a date?”
Michael shrugged, but that half-smile was still there. “Dinner.”
“With?” Silas prodded.
He pushed his glasses up his nose. “Dean.”
“About damn time. Did he ask you?”
The grin was full-blown now. “Actually, I asked him. And I don’t want to talk about it and jinx anything.”
“I’ll expect a text later,” Silas told him.
“You’ll be too busy getting Maggie naked on your clean sheets.”
“That is definitely in tonight’s forecast,” he admitted. “But I always have time for your love life.”
Michael waved his hands in front of him. “Okay. No more talking about it because it’ll just make me more nervous. Let’s do a surface clean here in the living room, throw any extra mess in the dining room and shut the pocket door, and focus the deep clean on the bathroom and kitchen. I’ll take the kitchen, and you can clean the bathroom while you shower.”
Silas wrapped his brother in a sweaty hug and gave him a smacking kiss on his forehead. “You’re my hero, Mikey.”
Michael extricated himself from his smelly grasp. “It’s kind of my superpower.” He flipped a roll of paper towels in the air and caught it one-handed. “Let’s do this.”
Just like they used to on chore day growing up, they cranked the music and got to work.
“How do you keep your place so clean?” Maggie asked two hours later when Silas opened the door for her. “It even smells like lemons in here.”
She was wearing a pair of cutoffs that showed off those long, shapely legs and a sexy off-the-shoulder sweater in plain black. Her hair, all russet tones thanks to the sun, was styled in short, tousled waves. She looked casual, sexy, happy.
“Our parents made us have chore day once a week while they all went to brunch. Every time I see a carton of orange juice, I feel compelled to clean the microwave,” he fibbed.
“Since you’re cooking, I brought flowers and some new finds from the secret room,” she said, holding up a box with a bouquet of flowers in it.