Her Naughty Holiday. Tiffany Reisz

      “She’s got principles. I’ll give her that.”

      “She’s got a criminal record for arson and destruction of private property is what she’s got.”

      “That, too.”

      “You’re good for her,” Erick said. “This job’s been good for her. I kept thinking about asking you out but then I thought Ruthie wouldn’t want to work for you if we were dating. Or if we broke up.”

      “In this scenario we’ve already dated and broken up?” Clover asked.

      “I’m a parent. We plan for all eventualities.”

      “I’m not a parent and I had the same thoughts—don’t screw things up for Ruthie. But that’s me being selfish. She’s a great assistant. I’d hate to lose her.”

      “She’s crazy about you. She needs a woman in her life. But her dad kind of does, too. Ask me what two hundred and sixty-eight means.”

      “What does two hundred and sixty-eight mean?”

      “That’s how many days until Ruthie starts college, and I have my house back. Not that I’m counting.”

      “Are you counting?”

      “I’m counting.”

      “You know, my parents would probably be very impressed if they thought I were dating a single father. They’d think that was a ready-made family.”

      “You really want me to be your Sven?” Erick asked. He already planned on doing it. This woman had taken his angry petulant pyromaniac daughter and turned her into a functioning member of society in under a year. He’d do anything for this woman, including but not limited to pretending to be her boyfriend for a couple days.

      “I would appreciate it,” she said.

      “We can have sex all week too, right?”

      “Okay.”

      “What?” Erick burst into laughter.

      “What?” she repeated. “Why are you laughing?”

      “I didn’t think you’d say yes. I was joking.”

      “You were?” Her blue eyes went wide.

      “Well...yeah. I mean, not that I don’t want to. I do want to. I swear to God, I thought you’d say no. I never guessed you’d say yes, not in a million years.”

      “And why not?” she asked as she crossed her arms over her chest. Oh, no, he’d put her on the defensive. Bad move.

      “You’re a little reserved.”

      “Reserved? Me?” She sat up straighter, prim as a schoolmarm.

      “Your lowest cut shirt is a turtleneck.”

      “Is there something wrong with having a warm neck?”

      “Not a damn thing. Obviously I misjudged you. I’m sorry,” he said, not at all in the least sorry to discover Clover Greene wanted to sleep with him.

      “Okay, I might be a little reserved,” she said. “But it’s not on purpose. When you own your own business and run it all by yourself, you tend to be all business.”

      “That’s all I mean. I just never heard you talk much about a personal life. And Ruthie would have told me if you were dating anybody.”

      “No time,” she said. “I guess that’s why I said yes when you said...what you said.”

      “When I said I wanted to sleep with you?”

      “Yes, that thing,” Clover said. “I actually have time this week to do that sort of...thing. It’s been a long time since I was involved with someone in a clothing optional type scenario.”

      “How long? Wait, don’t answer that. That was a rude question.”

      “We’re talking about sleeping together. It wasn’t rude. It was a fair question.”

      “Okay, how long? I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

      “You show me yours first.”

      “Years,” he said. “A year and a half? About that. I was seeing someone right before Ruthie got arrested. Then my entire life turned into babysitting her every minute of the day. You?”

      “I had a boyfriend for a few months about three years ago. We broke up when he moved to Seattle for work. My parents still ask about him.”

      “Ouch.”

      “I don’t even miss him. They miss him.”

      Erick held out his hand and as soon as he did it, he wished he hadn’t. His hands were a wreck—covered in deck stain with old scars and calluses. But she didn’t seem to mind. She put her hand in his and he saw she, too, had scars and calluses on her hands.

      “I need a manicure,” she said. “My last manicure was about the same time as my last boyfriend.”

      “Never had a manicure,” Erick said. “Never had a boyfriend, either. Ruthie tried to talk me into being gay because one of her girlfriends had a crush on me. I had to politely decline.”

      “This is nice. Holding hands. I’d forgotten how nice this was.” Clover sat back in her chair again but didn’t let his hand go.

      “Very nice. I suppose it wouldn’t kill me to be your Sven for the week.”

      “And if it’s just through Thanksgiving, no big deal, right? Fake boyfriend, not real boyfriend.”

      “I could make you a very good fake boyfriend. I can be fake nice, fake sweet, fake romantic. I can really fake it.”

      “I don’t know if you could fake anything. You seem very genuine to me,” she said.

      “I’m good at faking being genuine. Have to be. Teenage girls see through bullshit like they have X-ray vision or something. Ruthie wouldn’t have left her phone here if she didn’t think you and I would actually like each other. She saw right through me. X-ray eyes.”

      “She didn’t need X-ray eyes on me. Just normal eyes. I sort of kind of check you out occasionally when you come to pick her up.”

      “You do?”

      “I do.”

      “For how long?”

      “Um...since the first day you and Ruthie came by?” She winced. Erick tried very hard not to laugh at her extreme discomfort. Clover was seriously adorable, and he seriously adored her.

      He put his hand on his cheek and batted his eyelashes. “Oh, no, you’ve set me to blushing.”

      “Stop it. I’m embarrassed enough as it is.”

      “Why?” he asked, letting her hand go.

      “Well... I did sort of just accidentally agree to sleep with you.”

      “Nothing to blush over. I want to sleep with me, too. In fact, I do sleep with me every single night. I’m good in bed.”

      “Are you?”

      “I sleep like the dead, eight straight hours every night.”

      “That isn’t what I meant.” She pointed at him through her hoodie pocket. “You are enjoying this.”

      “I haven’t gotten laid in a long time. I would come from a foot rub, I swear. Yes, I’m enjoying flirting with you. I’m a little out of practice, though. How am I doing?”

      “Not bad. I’m enjoying this, too, and that’s usually a good sign, right?”

      “Definitely. Great sign.”

      “So...” she said, standing up and facing him. Her hands were still stuffed deep