It was situated in a very nice neighborhood with a park just a few miles away. And her nearest neighbor was an old veteran who loved to tell his war stories. She was not home often enough to be subjected to his retelling and actually liked the old weirdo.
She was especially proud of her bedroom. It was large and airy, with wide windows and a window seat she would curl up on with a good book, which also gave her the opportunity to stare at her tiny backyard garden.
The winter had destroyed her painstaking efforts, but the snow making layers over the shrubberies and trees was not a bad view.
Slipping out of her boots, she went to sit on the curved loveseat across from the bed. Dragging the blanket towards her, she wrapped it around her. She had a fireplace but was too tired and listless to see about rekindling the peat.
"I found some saltines." He came bearing a tray table with a steaming pot of tea and the biscuits laid artfully on a small plate. He had even coated them with orange marmalade.
"Thanks."
He nodded and sat next to her.
"You don't have to stay."
"You already said that."
Taking up the cup, she sipped carefully. "I'm sure you have things to do."
"I do. I'm staying, so you might as well stop wasting your breath."
She cut him a glance and decided she didn't have the energy to argue.
"It's cold in here." Without waiting for her permission, he rose and went straight to the hearth. She watched as he crouched down and stirred the fire to blazing life. Within minutes, she felt the warmth seeping through the blanket.
"That was one of the selling points when I decided to buy this place."
"What? The fireplace?" Brushing off his hands, he came to sit back down.
She nodded. "And the view. I liked sitting on the window seat and gazing at the wooded area. I once saw an antler drinking from the well. I was so excited, I jumped up to grab my phone and took some pictures."
She laughed at the memory. The laughter faded when he lifted his hand to brush her forehead.
"I'm scared."
"I know."
"I just--" She swallowed more of the tea. "I'm going to have to decide what to do and then how to tell my mother." She laughed softly, humorlessly. "She's going to give me her famous speech about being careless. Violet Wilcox is big on always doing the right thing."
She shrugged. "And she doesn't like you. Says you're too pretty and too rich. Thinks it's a sin to have so much money."
His mouth tightened at that. He had had the displeasure of meeting the woman once when she was on a senior's cruise. The introduction had not gone too well, and he distinctly recalled the woman staring at him with suspicious eyes.
She had passed on her good looks to her only child, but hers was marred by a tight grimace and pursed lips that announced to the world that she was looking for anything to complain about.
"It's between us." He said shortly.
Curving her hands around the cup, she studied his handsome face. Her mother had lectured her about getting involved with a 'man like that.' "Nothing good will ever come of it." She had pronounced in her dire tone. "He's your employer and spoiled."
"He's not spoiled."
"His family is rolling in money." The way she said it was nothing short of insulting. "Who knows if the wealth is all ill-gotten gains."
"They produce some of the finest olive oil in the world." Leanne had pointed out.
"People like that are never satisfied. You'd do well to stay away from him."
"She warned me to stay away from you."
