I forgot to bring my soap, and I'm too despondent to step out and get it, so I end up using theirs.It smells like them, and I want to turn my nose up, but instead I triple-cleanse with the very same bar of soap.
I wrap my wet head in a silk cloth and smother my skin in oils and lotion—I'm going to need extra help out here if I plan to return my pampered, moisturized self—then I slip into my comfortable pajamas.
My stomach growls unladylike the instant I step from the shower and the aroma of food hits me.On a desk in the room is a plate filled with steak and potatoes and a bottle of water.
Food.
I hate that it tastes as good as it does, and I'm not even a steak girl.I eat until I'm satiated to the point of sleepiness.I climb into the rock bed, and it takes me forever to find a position where there aren't any rocks poking into my back.
I'm not going to survive this, and I don't care that, from the window, the night sky bursts with stars like a symphony.
I don't sleep well at all.
My body aches, and I think I shifted my bones on the hard mattress.Worse, there isn't any coffee waiting for me on my bedside table, the kind I'd have after brushing my teeth.
Right, I'm not home.I'm in Deathville, Maine, with three lumberjacks, richer than god and yet they prefer to work at the logging site.
I want to cry, but then I find a folded sheet of paper on the bedside table instead of a lovely cup of coffee.
I unfold the thing and shriek as I read.
It's a laundry list of chores.
Oh, hell no.
Chapter Five
––––––––
Coral
––––––––
Islip my feet intoa pair of slippers and stalk the cabin.I find them in the kitchen.
All three of them are leaning against the kitchen countertop, arms folded, ankles crossed, freshly showered, and so nauseatingly gorgeous I almost throw up in my mouth.
