The Adventure
After an hour journey down the highway, one long gravel road and several dirt roads, most of them leading uphills, Amanda was relieved and utterly amazed to have found the place she was supposed to end up at. She was on time too, five minutes before ten.
As she stepped out of the car, Amanda took a deep breath of the fresh, crisp air. Air so different from the air in the city. She hadn’t even realized how choked she was there. Although, perhaps that had everything to do with her lifestyle and nothing at all to do with the environment itself.
She’d worn her one pair of runners. The crushed gravel of the driveway crunched underfoot until she hit the springier, softer, green grass. Her steps were whisper quiet then. Though her whole body trembled with sudden nerves and her knees threatened to give out, she forced herself up the three wood steps and onto the front porch. She expected a creek or a groan under her weight, but there was no sound at all except the dull thud of her footsteps.
The door was some primitive looking construction, four large slats down with one across the top and bottom. It was weathered, the wood almost worn gray. It was smoother than she expected, when she raised her fist to knock. The sound echoed around the still, quiet clearing, interrupting the silence.
A shrill wine went off followed by an incessant chatter. Amanda stepped back and glanced at the trees. She smiled when she finally saw who she’d interrupted; a little red, bushy tailed squirrel. The animal stared back at her with its little black eyes, scolding her for being there in the first place.
She turned and was about to knock again when the door swung open. Amanda sucked in a harsh rasp of air. She faltered backwards a step as the stranger stepped out. She had to.
He was so large he filled up the entire doorway. He nearly had to duck to get out. She’d peg him well over six feet. He wore a faded, red plaid shirt, the epitome of outdoor, bush living, and he wore it well. Broad shoulders and a powerful, barrel like chest filled that shirt out. All that power on top tapered away to a narrow waist which Amanda was willing to bet was all chiseled muscle. His legs were clad in a pair of faded, stained jeans. They fit him like they were some kind of designer brand made to look that way right from the store, worn and frayed and hugging all the right places. His feet were shod in heavy black boots, the kind that probably had steel toes.
Amanda realized she was staring and she blushed. She extended a hand quickly and cleared her throat so she could force words past a closed, flustered throat. “I- uh- I’m Amanda. We spoke on the phone yesterday about the housekeeper position.”
“Yes.” The stranger, almost reluctantly it seemed, produced a hand from his side.
Amanda’s lips parted involuntarily. The guy’s shirt sleeve was rolled up, almost to his elbow and his forearm was covered in black ink. She’d missed it during her first, quick perusal. She quickly shook the guy’s hand before she could get caught ogling him again. One large, calloused, rough palm closed over hers. Her hand was completely engulfed by the much warmer, larger one. The brief shake sent a buzzing jolt up Amanda’s arm and she retracted her hand in surprise.
She tucked it back at her side, where it belonged. Her stomach cramped a little. A strange heavy sensation flooded her chest and pooled lower, much lower…
Amanda quickly looked up, forcing her mind back to the position. This guy must think I’m a freak. I’m kind of acting like a crazy person…
She looked into his face, which was a mistake. She lost herself there again. This stranger, she sensed it was easy to get caught up staring at him. He was the kind of man who should be decorating magazine pages and billboards, not hiding out alone in the woods, living rough.
Jet black hair that was perhaps a little too long, was slicked back away from a broad, strong forehead. His eyes were set into a deeper brow. To say they were the color of the sky would have done them an injustice. They were the kind of blue that was nearly otherworldly, the kind that shone with a light from the inside instead of the outside. Unexpectedly high cheekbones, bronzed from the sun, gave way to a well-groomed beard. It was as jet black as his hair and wiry. Amanda didn’t really like beards but she liked this one. It suited the guy. She realized she should look away, say something, but she couldn’t just yet. Her eyes traced the shape of lips that were far too full to belong on a man. Lips that probably tasted as good as they looked… She quickly glanced up at his nose. It was straight and strong, the kind of nose that only looked good if supported by other stronger, features. And damn, it looked good on him.
“Did you come all this way to evaluate me or should I show you around and let you judge the property as well?”
Damn it. “Sorry,” Amanda mumbled. “Yes, please. Show me around.” Her face burned as the guy turned, clearly expecting her to follow. She went through the door, after him.
The house, or cabin or whatever it should be termed, was rustic but comfortable. It was larger on the inside than it looked from the outside.
One huge room made up the living area. A battered leather couch was perched atop a worn woven rug. It could have been red once, but now it was just a dull orange. The floorboards were raw, rustic wood, worn down by constant walking. The walls were the straight, rough wood of the outside. Some kind of gray material stood between them, probably the stuff that held them all together.
Beyond the main room was a hall and a series of doors. Probably the bathroom and the bedrooms. Amanda quickly whipped her eyes back to the stranger who hadn’t yet introduced himself. He walked off through the open doorway that led to the kitchen.
Amanda followed and stood in stunned silence. A huge stove, antique looking with silver trim and a black top, took up most of the space. A huge black chimney pipe protruded from the back of the stove and went all the way to the high ceiling. It disappeared to the outside world, unseen.
A beat up, obviously homemade wood table and chairs took up the rest of the space. The kitchen wasn’t traditional in that it had cupboards and a sink. It did have a hand pump, the kind of thing that was popular for drawing water back before the invention of modern plumbing and a few non fixed cupboards. They looked old and ornate. Amanda didn’t know what kind of wood they were, but they were impressive. A few wood shelves lined the wall and dishes, mugs and pots were stacked up on them. The only appliance was a small bar sized black fridge, tucked away, almost unnoticeable. A huge window took up the far wall and let in lots of light.
“Does it suit?” The stranger stalked over to the table. He pulled out a chair, scraping it across the wood floor, before he sat down heavily.
Amanda stood awkwardly, wondering if she should sit or not. She finally opted for sitting, so they could have a conversation without her hovering over him.
The stranger’s blue eyes appraised Amanda coldly. “You don’t look like you grew up on a farm.”
“I… I’ve spent some time in the city,” Amanda stammered. “I went to college there and then I stayed.”
“Doing what?”
The guy’s tone was nosy and rude and she didn’t like it at all. “Art,” she finally answered and left it at that.
“I see. So you’re an artist?”
“I mentioned that in my cover letter.”
“I suppose you did.” The man moved his hands to the table top. He folded his massive fingers into each other and cracked the knuckles mercilessly. Amanda nearly winced at the sound. “So you think you could handle this? Cleaning this place up? There’s a garden that would be part of the job. It’s out bad. It would have to be weeded and watered. “There are chickens, eggs, that kind of thing. There isn’t any power, at least not in the traditional sense. I have a couple solar panels on the roof, but that’s to run the fridge. I would expect meals to be cooked. You of course would help yourself to whatever you cook. I would supply groceries. You wouldn’t stay here. There is another cabin, smaller, further off. No one has lived there since I bought the place so you would have to clean it first. It has no power or indoor plumbing.”
“No plumbing?”
“There’s an outhouse further down the way. A tin tub for bathing, or, if you want, there’s a creek in back. It’s cold though. All year round.”
“A… a creek?” Amanda sputtered. She forced a hard swallow down her throat. She didn’t truly realize what she was signing on for when she applied for the job and this guy knew it. A tell-tale smirk turned up those handsome lips. His smug look ignited a sudden fury in Amanda’s chest. “That’s fine. I’ll get used to it. I’ll just need to be shown how everything works, but I’m a fast learner.” She couldn’t say that she needed this job. That she had no other place to go. That all she had left in the world was currently packed the backseat and the trunk of her car.
“Are you?” One dark brow raised in question. She had the impression the guy was making fun of her.
“Yes,” Amanda said firmly.
“And the salary suits?” His eyes swept over her, taking in her blouse and dark, tight fitting jeans. She hadn’t been sure what to wear. The only clothing she had was expensive, designer stuff. He’d obviously got a good look at her car too, when he’d come out onto the porch.
“Yes. It suits.”
“Give me your hand.” The stranger extended a large palm, face up on the table. The callouses, blisters, cuts and scrapes were obvious.
“What?” Amanda’s palms began to sweat where she held them in her lap, under the table. The thought of touching the guy, anywhere, made her blood boil in a way it shouldn’t. God, she had no business thinking about him in any sort of way other than professional. Does he have to be so damn… virile? Rugged? Sensual?
“Your hand.” His eyes sparked with a sudden glint of humor and Amanda finally raised her palm. She didn’t touch him, just set her hand on the table next to his.
He didn’t move. His eyes swiveled down to her pristine, white, smooth palm with the long, tapered fingers and manicured nails.
“You haven’t done any sort of work in a long time, doll, have you? I bet you had some fancy maid to do all your cleaning where you came from. And now you’ve applied to be a housekeeper.”
“Yes,” Amanda choked down a hard burst of humiliation. It triggered a feeling of unnatural rage that burned brighter and deeper and completely unexpected. “I might have had a maid for the last couple years. I might have had everything I could ever ask for.” She lowered her eyes. “Everything and nothing at all. It’s funny, how it doesn’t really make you happy. I thought this might. I didn’t grow up with someone to take care of me. I worked hard. I can do it again.” She finally raised her eyes, the challenge clear.
The stranger’s eyes locked on hers. After a few long minutes of silence he gave a brief nod. “Alright. I’ll give you a try. One week though. If I don’t think it’s going to work then you have to leave.”
“That’s fair.”
“If you even last a week.”
Oh come on! Amanda choked back a stinging retort and forced a smile. “Alright then. What would you like me to do first?”
“I’m going out. Have some chores I didn’t get done yet. See if you can manage to make coffee and some breakfast. You’ll have to get the eggs from the henhouse. Don’t let the chickens out either. Lose too many birds that way. Bacon’s in the fridge and there is bread in the cabinet over there. Although, I expect that you’d be able to bake it from now on. Open the front door and call for me when it’s ready.”
He stood and didn’t so much stomp out of the room as just strode, his heavy footfalls dragging on the wood floor, giving the impression that he wasn’t happy about something although it was likely just his normal, heavy gait.
Amanda stood in the middle of the kitchen, the sudden silence of the house and the magnitude of what she’d just taken on nearly crushing her. She realized, as she fumbled around, trying to find whatever contraption made coffee without electricity, that she didn’t even know her new boss’ name.