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Hannah let out a wistful sigh, and went in search of cleaning supplies which she found in a small closet off of the kitchen.
As she dusted every surface and scrubbed the floors on her hands and knees, she silently thanked her mother for sending her to her grandmother's house every Sunday afternoon to help her keep house. Her grandmother had grown up in a generation where men had went out and been breadwinners and the women had stayed home and raised children, and cooked meals, and made sure that their houses were absolutely spotless at all times. If a surface she had cleaned came out streaky, she was forced to go back and redo it until she had gotten it right. And while EM's house was already very clean thanks to her decisive choice in housekeepers, she knew from her grandmother that there was certainly no such thing as "too clean".
She had steadfastly made her way through the kitchen, the bathrooms, and the sitting rooms. She took breaks only to change out the water in her bucket and get more paper towels.
Time escaped her, huge chunks at a time. And before she thought it was possible, the caterers and servers were already at the door. She let them in and hurried to get back to the study to get it done so she could properly oversee the comings and goings of all the people in the house.
She had pulled the stationary desk chair and pulled it closer to the bookshelves, climbing it carefully until one of her legs was on the very top and the other was tip-toeing on the arm, just barely touching it so she could reach the top of the shelf.
"What are you doing?" came a voice at her side. EM. Somehow he had come in and up behind her without her even hearing him.
At the interruption, she lost her focus and, therefore, her careful balance. She barely had a chance to yelp as her foot slipped and she was falling. She closed her eyes against the hard ground she was about to hit. And then felt her body falling into EM's strong arms.
"Whoa," he said, with what sounded like a smile in his voice.
Hannah opened her eyes slowly, looking up into Elliott's startling blue ones. He was smiling!
She felt his arms cradling her carefully, one behind her back and the other under her knees. Only he could actually catch her as perfectly as men did in the movies.
"Are you alright?" he asked, not taking his eyes off of her face.
"I... yeah. You caught me," she said dumbly.
Elliott chuckled. He actually chuckled. She felt the sound reverberate through her. "Yes I did. I wouldn't have had to if you hadn't been trying to climb my bookshelves like a spider monkey."
Hannah felt a giggle escape her. He was so close. And he still hadn't thought to put her down yet. Not that she was complaining, she actually felt comfortable, secure. "I was cleaning." she clarified.
"Yes, that part was obvious," he said, his face sobering. "What isn't clear is why. I thought I had a housekeeper for that."
"She called me this morning. She broke her hand."
"That's unfortunate," Elliott said, considering her through heavy-lidded eyes. "But doesn't explain whyyouwere cleaning my house."
"I want everything to be perfect," she told him honestly.
A softness came to his face then, as if something she said was sweet, or touching in some way. "From the looks of it, everything is perfect."
"I didn't get to finish those..."
"You are not to finish those shelves. Am I clear?" She opened her mouth to protest, but he interrupted her. "They were cleaned twice this week already. I don't want you getting hurt, Hannah."
Hannah felt butterflies flood her stomach. He had never called her by name before. She could practically feel herself melting in his arms.
He looked at her for a moment before clearing his throat and carefully placing her feet on the floor.
She had a moment to feel exceptionally self-conscious. He had never seen her in anything but work attire and here she was in sweat clothes. Oh, God, and she was sweaty! Way to ruin her professional appearance.
He wasn't supposed to be home so early.
"What were you planning on doing... cleaning then running home to change?" he asked, looking her from the feet up.
She squirmed under his inspection. "I brought my things. I was just going to change in the bathroom."
Elliott shook his head, running a hand over his scruffy face. "Where's your stuff?"
"In the sitting room," she told him, a curious line forming between her eyebrows.
"Go grab it," he told her and turned to pull his office chair back into place.
