Appalachian Nations Cold Blooded Love

Brunch with the Hunk

I get so caught up in my painting I lose track of time, I realize I have 30 mins to get ready for my meeting with Mr Hawthorne.

Crap crap crap .... Oh now what will I wear. Wait why do I care what I should wear to this pompous arses home.

I settle my eyes on a black sweater with silver buttons up the folded neck hem. And a pair of blue jeans with the least rips in them. Boots and a scarf are a must in this cold weather. I grab my brush and run it through my long black hair. Trying to straighten all the pieces out into a nice braid that hits my hip.

Once I throw some bee balm on, I place my ear muffs on and sling the scarf around my neck. Checking the clock, I have 5 mins to ascend that mountain of a driveway. 

I reach Mr Hawthornes door wild and out of breath, I jogged the entire drive. What possessed him to make the house so far away from the road? I sigh and ring the door bell, hoping not to stand here too long in this frozen tundra.

A small elderly man with hair of pepper answers the door.

Good evening Miss Rolls, may I have your cold weather gear.

Oh how fancy I reply, yes you may.

I am Bert, ma'am I will be escorting you to your brunch with Mr. Hawthorne.

We walk down long beautifully arched solid wood halls until we reach a double door chamber. On the the other side I find a solid maple table hand carved and as long as the room. It ends at a very large stone fire place, cobble stone and rich with beautiful rocks.

At the last chair closest to the fire place, I spot Mr. Hawthorne in an end chair with one setting to his right which I assume is for me.

Bert: Lets get you seated madam Rolls, your brunch should be served shortly.

I walk to the end of the table and Mr. Bert pulls out my chair. I look and see Mr. Hawthorne's eyes trained on me. I flush at the thought of him inspecting my body. I sit in the chair like a lightning bolt, this is so embarrassing I think to myself.

Hello, Mr Hawthorne thank you for having me.