Rekindled Read Free

her hands a little dirty.
    And just like that, his decision was made.
    “All right, Lucy, when can you start?”
    “Now?” she asked, her eyes wide, as though he’d shocked her completely with the question.
    “Now?” he echoed.
    “Well, I’m basically homeless until I start this job.”
    Well, now, that did make him feel a little like an ass. “Not anymore. Come on out
     back with me.” She stood, clutching her handbag in front of her. He looked down at
     those long, shapely legs, and further still to her shoes. “I don’t know how those
     are going to survive the mud.”
    “I’ll be fine,” she said.
    “All right then, this way.” He started to head out of the living area and toward the
     kitchen, but he noticed Lucy was still sitting on the couch, dark eyes wide. “Are
     you going to follow me?”
    “Did you just give me the job?”
    “Yes. Unless of course you intend to do it from the couch, in which case I may have
     to rethink the offer.”
    “No”—she scrambled to her feet—“no, I’m ready to go. Just show me the… stuff.”
    “Kitchen,” he said, indicating the big open space. “I eat lunch with the hands, and
     I have a guy who cooks in the big kitchen out by the barns for everyone, so you’re
     off the hook for that. But I take breakfast in here, and dinner. And I’ll need you
     to take care of that. Otherwise, during the day, just regular housecleaning stuff.
     I have a full laundry room, there’s a vacuum somewhere. I’m only one guy, so it shouldn’t
     be too hard.”
    Truthfully, he didn’t really know what all went into taking good care of a household.
     His mother had done it as a job for other people, and she’d been too tired at the
     end of the day to do much of it for them.
    And, of course, he didn’t do a very great job of it himself. But he was way too tired
     at the end of the day to do anything but put a frozen pizza in the oven. Carly had
     been coming over and making sure he didn’t starve, either by giving him the leftovers
     of her and Lucas’s dinner or by coming over and cooking for him.
    She’d drawn the line at laundry, though, and he’d been managing to get the clothes
     clean and dry, but he hadn’t managed to get them in the closet.
    He’d been fishing his clothes out of a laundry basket every day for the past few months,
     ever since the loss of his previous housekeeper.
    Still, though, with full-time hours to devote to the job, it couldn’t possibly be
     too hard.
    “Otherwise, the cottage is back this way.”
    “Cottage?”
    “Yeah, that’s the ‘room’ part of the room and board that was in the ad,” he said.
    “I wasn’t expecting a cottage. I was thinking… a room.”
    The idea of sharing a room in his house with Lucy sent a shot of heat through his
     veins that burned like whiskey. He wasn’t sure why he was reacting so strongly to
     her. Why the room he’d thought of had been his own bedroom. His own bed.
    Lucy was beautiful; she always had been. But a sweet face didn’t atone for a personality
     as sour as hers. Not that she seemed overly sour now—but she’d come to apply for a
     job. And even in those circumstances, there was a little bit of tartness to her.
    He shifted his weight and tried to ignore the heat pouring through him. Assigning
     her a flavor, even a borderline unpleasant one, wasn’t helping with his issues. Because
     now he was wondering if she tasted as sour as she seemed, like a green apple, or if
     she was sweet like she looked. Like a peach.
    Oh, dammit.
    He shifted again and tried to redirect his blood flow back to where it belonged.
    He opened the back door and held it for her, waiting for her to walk outside before
     he closed it. She brushed past him, and the wind kicked up, blowing her scent back
     in his direction. Honeysuckle.
    She smelled sweet. Which made him think she very likely tasted—
    No. Not going there.
    He led the way down a trail that was worn through the grass. It was only wide