I push on as fast as I can, without sliding around wet corners with drizzle and wet leaves coating everything.
Finally, I slow for a second bridge. The rain has swollen this river, too, and it is deep. So deep, the classy, old-fashioned bridge may not last much longer.
Inhaling, I push on. “It better be worth it.”
After several minutes, I slow as a third bridge becomes visible ahead. This one looks damaged and partly submerged.
I stop, get out, and stand in the rain, trying to decide. Leaping in wet, I drive slowly forwards. I drum my fingers on the wheel. “Come on, baby, just this last bit.”
The wooden bridge creaks under us, and I wince.
Halfway along, the sound of wood breaking makes my stomach churn. I slow, then push on. Suddenly, a rear wheel getsstuck, and my jaw drops. I act fast and slam the gear stick forwards. I also drop a gear. Wincing, I gun the engine and drop the clutch.
We shoot forwards, and we make it up the wood and out of the water. Finally, we leap off the bridge and get back onto land with a roar.
“Hell, yeah!” I feel unstoppable.
I drive through more old gates, probably fifty feet high. I head on and pass a green field next to the lake edge. My eyes go wide at the wonder.
We pass endless rose gardens and statues. The estate is truly massive. “Holy shit!” I mumble as thunder booms in the distance.
I enter a parking area in front of a huge French-styled chateau next to the lake.
“Oh, my God,” I say, double blinking.
No one is around, so I pull up outside, next to two cars. A sleek old English Jaguar and a classic dark green Land Rover.
I know I look rough; I was supposed to change on the way. I had to put on the warmest clothes I had, that being non-conservative black leather pants and a black T-shirt.
Screw it, I decide. They will have to just understand.
Firstly, it’s partly my travel day slash arrival-and-settle-in day, and secondly, I have already signed the employment contract.
To be a personal chef to the boring and crusty old recluse who resides here. In the middle of nowhere.
I look outside through my rain-spattered window. Marble statues. Lake. Chateau. Peacocks hiding under trees, and no humans. Yikes.
I inhale as the rain comes down. I gather enough guts, then run up to the huge wooden door. I knock loudly as the cool wind freezes me.
After a full minute of waiting while being blasted with cold wind and rain, I shiver.
I knock again and wait.
Screw it. I twist the huge old door handle and push on the massive door. As I step inside, I drip onto the marble floor. “Hello?” Nothing. “Hello, is anyone here?”
I walk slowly in and do a three-sixty in the marble lobby. Suddenly, I hear steps. Spinning, I find a lone figure that has walked from a grand hallway.
“You!” he says loudly.
“What the fuc—?” I huff, my eyes popping.
“You!” Grumpy says, walking forward and crossing his arms.
“Look, do you work here?” I ask, squinting at him and in no mood for games.
“You might say that,” he says, smugly lifting his chin.
He walks closer, and the hot weirdo looks me up and down. I am cold. I am wet. My hair is plastered down. And my nipples are hard. It was also a bad time to go braless.
