We eat in silence for a few minutes. It should be awkward, but somehow it's not. Or maybe I'm just too aware of how handsome he is to care about awkward. My eyes dart all around, yet keep coming back to him, observing the way his corded forearms flex when he cuts his chicken, the strong line of his jaw as he chews, and those startling blue eyes with their thick fringe of black eyelashes.
“I'm Seth, by the way.” He extends his hand.
I take it, his palm warm and firm against mine. “Jennifer. But you knew that.”
“Jennifer.” The way he says my name, slow and deliberate, makes something flutter low in my belly. “It's nice to meet you properly.”
“You too.”
When I pull my hand back, I swear I feel the loss of his warmth. Which is ridiculous. He's a client. A rich tech guy who'll be gone in a month, back to his fancy city life while I'm still here cleaning and cooking for other people and just scraping by.
But when I leave that evening, after making him dinner and watching him actually sit on the couch instead of working, I can't stop thinking about his light blue eyes and the way he said my name. Or the tangled sheets on his bed that spoke of a restless night and how much I wanted to help ease the tension between his brows.
I do my best to push those dangerous thoughts aside. Getting personal would be a huge mistake.
One I think I’m already making.
CHAPTER TWO
SETH
I wake up at five thirty, same as always, my circadian rhythm refusing to acknowledge that I'm supposed to be on vacation.
Except this isn't a vacation. It's a medical intervention. The difference being that vacations are optional and something that I rarely did. Which probably led to my current issues.
I lie in bed for twenty minutes, staring at the ceiling, thinking far too much about the sweet little housekeeper. Who am I kidding? She’s been on my mind constantly since the moment she walked into the cabin several days ago.
Petite with shaggy brown hair pulled back into a short, stubby ponytail that shouldn’t be adorable yet somehow was. Large brown eyes and the prettiest mouth that made me think of all sorts of naughty things I’d like to do to it. Even more her smile warmed me from the inside out. I’d never met anyone that had that effect on me.
Then again, when did I make time to spend with anyone else in the past? This forced time away from work to cool my heels means I have a lot of free time on my hands. Time I have been enjoying chatting with the cabin’s housekeeper. And far too much time observing her as she fascinates me.
My cock is half hard against my thigh and idly I reach down to adjust myself to a more comfortable position.
With a self-deprecating chuckle, I put a halt to my thoughts about a certain brown eyed girl and get out of bed. My phone sits on the nightstand, silent. After my first two stressful days here, when it seemed my company really couldn’t function without me, and I felt dizzy and drained later in the evenings, I actually decided to listen to my doctor. I've turned off all my work notifications. No emails. No text messages. No emergency calls unless the building is literally on fire. Since my phone is the first thing I reach for every morning, it’s been a hard habit to break, and I’m not out of the woods yet as my fingers twitch with the need to pick it up and scroll.
It's only been four days, and I'm crawling out of my skin with the need to do something that tasks my mind.
I make coffee and wander out to the deck overlooking the lake. The sun is just starting to rise, painting the calm water pink and gold. It's objectively beautiful. The kind of view that's supposed to make you feel peaceful, centered, and all that meditation app bullshit my assistant kept sending me links to.
I feel nothing. It’s just water. And I’m restless. Like my very skin is unpleasant and confining me, and if I could just break out of it, I might feel better.
Turning my back on the view, I trudge back inside and try to read. Unable to focus and feeling like it’s a colossal waste of my time, I toss the book aside after only a few pages, slumping my head onto the cushion and staring up at the ceiling. After a few minutes of doing absolutely nothing, I spring up and go work out in the small gym that’s set up in the second bedroom. Hopefully, my mind and body only need a workout to get me back on track and feeling more like myself.
That helps for about forty-five minutes. Then I shower and dress, and it's still only seven fifteen.
Getting another cup of coffee that I shouldn’t have, I plant my ass on the couch once more and stare out the window.Jennifer should arrive at eight. Like she has for the past three mornings.
I thought having a housekeeper coming to clean and cook would be intrusive, and I’d resent the invasion of my space. Quite the opposite, as she fills the space with warmth, and I rather like the company.
Then it hits me that I've been watching the driveway since seven twenty, waiting for her car. Irritably, I shift on the couch, annoyed at my own behavior. I'm a grown man. I don't wait by windows like a puppy waiting for its owner.
But when I hear the gravel crunch under her tires at exactly eight a.m., something in my chest loosens. Which is absurd. She's here to clean and cook. That's it.
Except yesterday, when she left, the cabin felt empty in a way it hadn't before she arrived.
I open the door before she can knock.
“Good morning.” My voice comes out sharper than I intended.
