Distracted √

Distracted: Chapter Fourteen

Erin texted her sister, saying she would be there soon. She recalled the phone conversation and how she had hedged, explaining only that she was bringing a client to work at the cabin.

After twelve hours on the road, the packed SUV cruised down a long, dusty driveway. It stopped in front of a white clapboard house with dark green shutters. In the distance, Spence spied a red barn bearing a large painted star. Chickens bobbed and weaved in the July heat, separated from the driveway by a wire fence. A couple of barn cats, fat and luxuriant, were perched outside the fence, focused on the jerky movements of the plump hens.

A brown painted fence stretched from the barn and into the woods on the far hill. Cattle dotted the hillside and in a separate, smaller pasture Spence saw white spots.

"Those are sheep," Erin said with an incline of her head. "I told you I was a farm girl. Come on, my sister and her husband are waiting to meet you."

Erin caught Spence's hand and pulled him towards the house as the front porch opened. A tall woman, a faded version of Erin with a few extra pounds on her hips, stepped out and arms open.

Erin dropped Spence's hand and rushed up the steps, sweeping her sister into a bear hug.

"I'm so glad to see you honey," Mariah said, her cheek pressed against her younger sister's golden hair. She looked beyond Erin's shoulder and into Spence's eyes. Her warm smile and green eyes were welcoming. He saw her lips move against Erin's ear but didn't hear her speak, "Oh my, he's gorgeous. I want your job."

* * *

"Mr. Spence, this is your room for tonight," Mariah said, opening the door. "My husband, Jerry, hasn't had a chance yet to air out the cabin. It's been closed up all winter."

White walls painted many years ago had faded to cream. The queen-size bed bore a handcrafted quilt, washed so often its flowers were pastel. A narrow window reached from the floor to the ceiling.

Erin walked over to the window and slid open the curtains, admiring the view, pastoral and green. "I've always loved this room," she said.

Spence moved behind her, slid his arms around her, enveloping her body. He pushed his chin against the back of her neck, his lips caressing her hair. Erin leaned into his embrace.

Mariah's eyes widened as she watched the couple, already oblivious to her. She backed to the bedroom door and slipped out, closing it behind her. She'd suspected from the moment she saw Erin's face, her "client" was much more than that. Their embrace confirmed it.

She went down the stairs and into the farmhouse kitchen. Warm, cozy and filled with century-old wood cabinetry, the kitchen was Mariah's retreat. Dried herbs and flowers hung upside down from the large wooden beams and a copper kettle kept water warm for her frequent cups of tea. Marsh, the family's dog, snored under the spacious oak dining table.

Jerry came in, stamping the mud onto the wooden grate by the back door. He sat on the nearby parson's bench, bent over and began unlacing the work boots. He pulled them off and reached under the bench for his leather mocs.

"Are they settled in? Did you take them to their rooms?"

Mariah smiled impishly, raised her dreamy eyes from a cup of tea. "Room."

Jerry's eyebrows shot up.

Mariah chuckled. "Well, she's allowed."

"Hey," he said, his hands raised in the air. "I say 'Go for it.' What's he like? Bookworm?"

"Not exactly," Mariah said, arching her eyebrows.

Upstairs, Erin held her breath until her chest hurt and sanity returned. She tried to pull away, but the window blocked her escape to the front and Spence's chest, warm and intoxicating against her bare shoulders, eliminated that route. She stepped to the right, but his arms tightened around her rib cage.