Chapter Two
Cheryl
The soft sounds of chimes and birds chirping reached her ears, slowly growing louder as her alarm became more insistent.
She was already up though, and the reminder that she had to leave bed was most unwelcome. It took several mashes of her hand and then one bleary eye to focus on her phone’s screen long enough to swipe a finger in the right direction to shut the infernal racket off.
Why is it when I set an alarm I feel like I could sleep for another few hours, but when I don’t have to wake up I always wake up early?
The phenomenon irritated the hell out of her, but Cheryl was far from the only person in the world to suffer from that condition. Kicking her leg up and over, she twisted her lower body to the side, listening to her spine adjust itself with ever-increasing amounts of noise, both from the bones and the grunts of her mouth.
Pulling her right leg back down, she repeated the process with the left, keeping her shoulders flat. That done she let out an appropriately loud sigh and began the sad process of removing the covers and getting to her feet. Sad because she was upset at having to get up, not because the extra weight around her hips and stomach made it more of a process than it could have been.
The nice thing was that she didn’t need to worry about anyone hearing her noises in the morning. Torran and Lilly had taken off to Barton City the day before, and they had stayed there. Lilly was pregnant and she had a slew of appointments. Apparently Torran wanted to have a fancy date night while they were there as well. Cheryl hadn’t pried too much; she only had a passing acquaintance with the pair of them.
Slipping on a pair of ratty but comfortable underwear and yesterday’s bra, she burped and headed downstairs. Today was the last day she could get away with being so lackadaisical in her approach to, well, life. Tomorrow a score of working laborers would arrive and the gargantuan task of getting the dilapidated ranch back into some semblance of working order would begin.
All the responsibility for that rested on her shoulders. Her small shoulders. They might be thick, but they certainly weren’t what anyone would term “broad.” Most of her was thick though, so it didn’t really count. Not that she gave a shit what anyone else thought. She was going to do this job, and she was going to do it well.
Just as she hit the bottom of the stairs she was overcome by a massive yawn. Covering her face with her hands, Cheryl half-walked half-stumbled across the U-shaped kitchen to the fridge. Her finger automatically found the button for the coffee machine, kicking it into high gear. If only there was a turbo mode or something. Her morning could start even sooner.
On second thought, forget turbo mode. That sounded horrible.
Pulling open the fridge she stuck her head inside, blinking sleep from her eyes and using the chill air to give her a burst of awareness so that she could take stock of what food there was. Spying some eggs and a few veggies, she decided to be fancy and do an omelet. With the craziness about to hit her it was unlikely she’d have the time to do it again. Not for a while at least.
Gauging the progress of the coffee maker simply by ear she judged there was enough time to cut the veggies and get the eggs going before it was ready. Perfect. Cheryl set to work, and though the coffee beat her by twenty-three seconds—no, she definitely wasn’t counting at all—it still felt good to sip at her coffee and smell the food as it cooked. Optimum efficiency.
Coffee injected into her system, she set to finishing up breakfast with gusto, feeling her brain begin to defog almost instantly. Mushrooms in hand, she started to drizzle them across half the eggs, her mouth watering and stomach growling loudly.
“Ahem.”
Cheryl screamed. Chopped mushrooms flew everywhere. Her hand hit the pan handle as she spun. It flicked around wildly and shattered the coffee mug. Hot coffee poured across the floor and she had to dance wildly to the side as it tried to burn her bare feet.
“Uh, hi.”
“WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?” she shouted. “GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!”
The man was sitting at the kitchen table, glass of water in one hand, newspaper in the other. “Palin said I could be here,” he told her with a frown of his thick black eyebrows. “My name is—”
“I don’t care what your fucking name is!” she yelled. “Get out of the house, you pervert. How long have you been there watching me?” Cheryl pulled her hands across her body, trying to cover herself up. Thank God she’d put the bra on, because she almost hadn’t.
“I’ve been here the whole time. You walked out. I figured you saw me,” he stammered.
“Well I didn’t.”
Just then the pan decided it was no longer going to stay balanced where it had stopped spinning and it toppled to the ground with a clang, half-cooked eggs sailing through the air to land between the two of them. Cheryl stared at the mess for a moment, and then she fled the room.
He called up the stairs after her. “I’m Rowe! It was nice to meet you.”
Cheryl yelled back at him, not stopping her headlong flight. “I don’t care! It’s not nice to meet you, creeper. Get out of the house before I call the police!” She ran into her bedroom and slammed the door behind her, locking it.
Embarrassment flooded her. He’d been there the entire time. Watching her half-naked body with his intense eyes, the malachite like orbs staring.
Wait. When the hell had she noticed what color of green his eyes were? Cheryl tried to play the entire incident over again in her head, but it was too embarrassing. Oh no, and she’d bent over to look in the fridge. She moaned and fell back on the bed.
It was over. Her life was over. She just wanted to fall away into a hole and never be seen again rather than talk to whatever his name was.
Rowe.
“Thanks, brain,” she muttered. It had noticed all sorts of things about Rowe apparently. His eyes, his thick, perfectly styled black hair, the way his shirt struggled to contain his body. All those things it had picked up with ease in several panicked moments. Yet not once had it thought to notice his fucking presence! What the hell!
Now she was angry, starving, and horrifically embarrassed. What a way to start the morning. If this was a sign of things to come with the project, she might just have to resign then and there, career and personal ramifications aside. She could deal with being poor and feeling shamed. After all, could anyone actually make her feel more ashamed?
She ignored the question and showered quickly, putting on normal underwear. Why couldn’t I have at least put cute stuff on before? Horrible morning choices. Horrible.
At least she hadn’t farted.
Had she?
“No. No I did not.”
Her stomach growled. I get it. Food. Hold on.
Cheryl couldn’t hide in her room forever. There was work to be done and she needed to get to it. That meant confronting the situation, suffering the embarrassment and then shoving it aside. Irritably she yanked on the handle of her room door, intending to head out.
Instead of opening into the hallway as she stormed out it held firm and Cheryl walked right into it with a resounding thud. Stepping back she stifled a scream, flicked the lock, and tried it again. Flipping out at her own actions wouldn’t be of any help. Nobody else had made her lock the door besides herself.
She emerged into the kitchen to find Rowe sitting in the same chair he’d been in when she ran out of the room half an hour earlier. The only difference was that her mess was conspicuously absent. Great, he’d cleaned up as well, which meant she had to interact with him.
“Thank you…” her eyes darted to the side of the fridge. “Did you make fresh coffee?”
Rowe nodded, eyes flashing in the diffuse morning light that filtered in through the blinds. At least those had been closed. “I figured you could use it. I hope I did it right. I’m not very familiar with making coffee.”
“You’re a morning person.”
“You could say that.”
“Ew. How…cheery.”
What the hell? Was she flirting with him? Cheryl tamped down on her emotions and walked over to the coffee machine to pour herself a cup. Moments later she leaned back against the counter and sighed for the second time that morning.
“Okay.” She paused, taking another sip. That was better. “You. Talk. Explain yourself. Why were you watching me in my underwear like some kind of criminal?”
Rowe blinked slowly. “I was sitting in the chair drinking water and reading the paper. I turned the page. Several times. How was I supposed to know you’re not only blind but also deaf until you’ve had some coffee?”
He’d turned the page? Newspaper wasn’t exactly quiet. What had her brain been doing all that time? Purposefully ignoring him?”
“Okay. Fine. Why did you decide to wait so long until getting my attention? Do you not think it a bit weird I was just in my underwear?”
Rowe looked nonplussed. “I guess we hang around different people, but no, I didn’t think it weird. I’m sorry, next time I’ll make it quite apparent that I’m in here.”
“Thank you. My underwear is for me, and me only. Not you. Got it?” She pinned him to the chair with a stare.
At least, she tried to. Rowe just let her gaze slide off him, uncaring. “Yeah, I get it.”
“Good. Now stay out of my sight. I don’t want to see you for the rest of the day.”
“Yes ma’am.” The sarcasm pooled on the floor under him.
Cheryl tried to glare a second time, but it was just as ineffective, his gemstone-like eyes not even flinching. God he was hot. Just gorgeous. High cheekbones and a strong jaw gave him very prominent features that had the sharp edges covered in smooth alabaster skin. The combination served to give him a regal air, especially when combined with the darkness of his eyebrows and hair.
“You can stare daggers at me all you want, but it’s not going to change anything.” He spoke so calmly that Cheryl had to smother an urge to walk over and punch him in the face. “If it makes you feel better—”
“I don’t know what you’re going to say, but the answer is no, it won’t make me feel better.”
“Suit yourself. I’ll be hungry soon enough.”
“What do you mean?” Now she was curious about what he had been going to say.
“I’ll let your attitude go because you’re embarrassed, but know that I normally wouldn’t put up with you being so rude when it’s your own damn fault that this happened.”
Cheryl wanted to throttle him, but the thing was, he was right. She’d been so oblivious in her need for coffee and food that she’d not bothered to check her surroundings, and had instead tuned everything else out. Yes, he could have said something, but truthfully, if their situations were reversed, she probably wouldn’t have said anything.
Especially if he was bending over to look deep in the fridge…
Ugh.
“There’s a bunch of chopped veggies in the fridge in case you wanted to make yourself another omelet.” Rowe waved vaguely at the kitchen. “I know I’d be starving right now if I were you, so I took the liberty of preparing those.” He got up and headed for the stairs. “I hope the rest of your day goes better.”
Then he was gone, leaving Cheryl all alone just like she’d asked.
Now if only the stomach full of guilt would leave as well. He was right; she’d been really rude to him, and he didn’t really deserve all of it. Some, yes, but the fault was just as much hers. Any normal person would have noticed him at the table. She quite literally had to walk right past him to get to the rest of the kitchen.
What a morning. What else could go wrong?