Her Naughty Holiday (Men at Work 2)
Page 8
“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.”