A corncob pipe came next and Jason trailed his fingers over the intricate carvings with the same awe Brett handled his ship. Finally, he unwrapped the last two items, two small daggers, their hilts glinting with precious stones.
Both boys gaped, looked at each other and whooped with joy.
Lynn looked up at that moment and caught Gwen’s gaze. The woman had tears in her eyes as she mouthed “thank you” to Gwen and Rome.
Everything was fake of course and, with parental permission, hidden in the rocks specifically for the boys to find. This was what James had been doing yesterday.
Though the gifts were far from extravagant, and totally fake, Melinda made it a point to ensure every child not leave the B&B empty-handed. It was a loving gesture and simply another reason in a long list of many why Gwen adored her employers.
As everyone oohed and aahed over the find, Gwen peeked over at Rome. His eyes were on the family of four, something akin to longing in those dark depths. It stirred something deep inside her. Knowing the stock he came from, Melinda’s love and compassion and Andreas’s solid strength and generosity, Gwen felt her insides melt, reaffirming her belief that Rome was indeed a menace. Not to society as she had first thought, but to her heart.
Chapter Seven
Gwen pushed absently at the solid steel plating of the critter fence with a gloved hand, her focus not wholly on the job, which continued to tempt her ire. She and Dennis were inspecting the east side fencing of the Orchards, checking for loose fittings, holes and general wear and tear. A necessary task, but one that continued to be interrupted by thoughts of Rome.
After lunch yesterday, she hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him. Not at dinner, not when she’d strolled out to the garden swing and not at breakfast. It was as if he were avoiding her, and that rankled. Which was irritating because she had told them a physical relationship between them was not in the cards, so she should be satisfied. And though he’d plainly stated he was going to try and change her mind, it seemed he’d decided to forgo that plan. It was oddly disappointing, and, if she were truthful, she felt a little rejected.
With a rare flare of temper, she kicked the fence, causing the metal plating to bounce against the chain link.
A loose screw caught her eye, brought about by the high winds from the storm earlier that week rather than a curious alligator. The Orchards was situated off a bay that curved out and around the estate into a partial cove and continued northeast to become the swamp grounds where the reptiles lived. Though they provided little threat considering their home lay over sixty yards beyond the far northeastern part of the fence-line, it paid to be safe. The Felix’s didn’t want any accidental wanderings from either the gators or the guests.
Sighing, she reached for the tool kit on her belt and tugged out a screwdriver. Which immediately brought to mind Rome, and the small multitool kit he carried on his belt. Actually, all the Felix men wore one, but it was, again, Rome that came forefront in her thoughts.
With a sound of frustration, she squatted down to tackle the screw, firmly intending to complete this task and move on to the next without any more unprofessional thoughts.
That lasted all of five seconds.
Before she even finished tightening the screw, her brain went renegade, pulling up the memory of Rome as he’d stood in the doorway of her office, his chest bare, muscles rippling with every move. What would have happened had he shown up earlier, or the hike had been scheduled later in the day? Would that sensuous mouth have descended lower to cover her breast, sucking the soft flesh as she arched into him? Would he have moved lower?
Would she have let him?
Her eyes went blind. Arousal, a constant companion over the last two days, quickened and she could feel the liquid heat of need dampen her panties.
Oh hell. She was pretty damn sure she would have let him do anything he wanted to her.
Letting out a groan, she pressed a thumb and forefinger to her eyes, rubbing gently. She was terribly afraid Rome was becoming an obsession, because in no way was this fierce attraction normal.
A rough shake of her head sent her braid flying over a shoulder and she stood, looking along the fence line to gauge where Dennis was in his own inspection. With a start, Gwen realized she’d covered more than half the line, and that had been on autopilot as Rome and the subject of sex constantly stole her attention.
But no more. She would not let one sexy male, with surprisingly soft lips that had nuzzled her neck, invade her thoughts anymore. Nope. She was done thinking about how firm his muscles had felt under her hands, how the press of his erection would feel against her core. Yep. Completely over it.
Not. Disgusted with herself, she called out to Dennis who was walking toward her, his gait slow but steady. “How are things on your end?”
“I think it’s time to replace those two rusting critter panels at the far end.” His dark blonde head, liberally streaked with sun-kissed highlights, bent as he ran a gloved hand over another section. “The salt air is terrible on metal. I’d suggest moving to wood, but the storms and humidity would rot it in a heartbeat.”
Gwen replaced the screwdriver in her hand with a pen and a small notebook she drew from one of her many pockets. “That old cabin in the reserve is wood and still looks decent.” The thought ran across her mind as she jotted down the required repair.
“Yeah, but all the trees buffer the wind. It’d be good for nothing except the fireplace if it was out here.”
“Hmm.” Made sense to Gwen. Glancing from her pad she took in his drawn features, the paleness of his skin beneath his tan. She pursed her lips. “You doing all right?”
“Yeah. Just moving a bit slower than normal.”
“Uh huh.” Gwen crossed her arms and waited until he moved closer, glancing about to ensure their privacy. “You sure you’re okay? Rome said yesterday you looked as if you had some bruised ribs.” Her eyes narrowed. “And you smelled of alcohol.”
Dennis’s lips tightened at the accusation. “I wasn’t drunk.”
“All right, but you also weren’t coming down with a cold. You were in a fight.”
He kicked at the ground. “Yeah, but it’s not like we started it. Paul and I were getting ready to leave the bar – before midnight I’d like to add – when these two guys came up to a group of other guys next to us and start talking smack. Next thing I know, beer is thrown, fists are flying and I’m somehow in the middle of a fight I had nothing to do with in the first place.”
Gwen’s brow furrowed. “So you were an innocent bystander?”
He lifted a scrawny shoulder. “I think those guys were just looking for a fight and we just happened to be in the right place at the wrong time.”
“Where the cops called?”
“We didn’t stick around to find out. Never did see either of the two guys that started the whole mess again.
They must have bailed when things started getting out of hand. I mean everyone in the bar was fighting and throwing stuff. It was crazy.”
“Hmm.” Digesting all that, she glanced down at her watch. “It’s eleven-forty. I’m going to head up to the house and scrounge around for some food. Why don’t you come with me?”
Dennis shook his head. “No, but thanks. I brought my own. I think I’ll spend my lunch hour in the lounge. Maybe grab a quick nap on the couch.”
He did seem pale and he moved slowly as if
everything ached, which it probably did, but he hadn’t complained once. They still had a lot of work today and she worried he might cause more physical damage to himself.
A period of rest would do him good, but she had to consider she might need to cut him loose after lunch.
“Probably a good idea, just set an alarm. We need to get the reserve line finished before it rains.”
Dennis looked up at the few soft clouds that littered the otherwise blue sky. “Rain?”
As a native Floridian, Dennis should know the weather patterns better than Gwen, which only went to prov
e how off his game he was. After swiping away sweat from her brow, Gwen pointed out toward the ocean. “Rain.” In the far horizon, the sky took on a gray cast that washed away the endless blue. Based on the direction of the gentle breeze, the curtain of rain was heading their way, just not anytime soon. Though once it reached land it was going to be a lengthy downpour.
She turned to head back toward the jeep she’d parked midway of her section of fencing. “I’ll drive you to the crop shop.” The name they used for the building that housed the offices and the produce equipment.
“Yeah. Okay.”
Though they walked to the jeep in silence, Gwen had the feeling Dennis wanted to say something more. She didn’t prod, knowing if he wanted to talk, pushing wouldn’t help. He needed to make up his own mind.
It was as they were nearing the office he cleared his throat. “So I was thinking.”
Gwen glanced over to see him staring out the open side window. “Yes?”
His hands rubbed over his thighs. “I don’t have school on Tuesdays, so, uh. I was wondering if I could pick up some more hours. I mean, you don’t work Tuesday and Wednesday so maybe they could use an extra hand. At least on one of those days.”
Gwen wondered why, after over a month in school, Dennis just now brought the subject up. Then it hit her.
Starving college student. Though she had opted to live at home while attending college, Dennis was living in a house he shared with three other guys, all of whom were working part-time while attending college. Money was probably tight. Though why he didn’t jump at the chance for a free lunch Gwen didn’t understand. Unless it was due to male pride or guilt or some other such nonsense. Very little came between Gwen and food.
“As much as I would like to tell you yes, it’s not my place. You’ll need to speak with Andreas or Melinda.”
More thigh rubbing. It made Gwen think Dennis was nervous. But about what, she didn’t know. Other than this one mishap – which he’d insisted he hadn’t instigated – he’d been a model employee.
“Yeah. You’re right.”
Pulling up to the shop, she told him, “Try and get some rest. I’ll meet you back here in an hour.”
She smiled at the sharp salute he executed as he slammed the door shut and then drove off. A glance in the side mirror showed his diminishing image, and a crooked one at that. Her eyes rolled. How like a man to hid any weakness. The guy was clearly in pain and should have stayed home. The job was physically taxing and all the walking and bending couldn’t be good for his sore ribs.
As she neared the B&B, she slowed, keeping her eyes peeled for any wandering cats. Several lived at the Orchards, ridding the barn and grounds of rodents and terrorizing the birds from the trees. She always found something else to do, post haste, when one of the felines caught what they were after.
Pulling to a stop by the kitchen entrance at the rear of the house, she got out and immediately spotted the calico cat sprawled upside down in the sun by the opening to the crawl space beneath the house. She said a polite hello, smiled when he meowed back, and walked up the stairs to the kitchen.
While the guests who wanted lunch would soon be assembling in the dining room, Gwen, along with the family members, took their lunch in the kitchen. Outside work meant dirt and, especially in the summer months, lots of stink and sweat. It didn’t make for a pleasant atmosphere for paying customers.
Today as she stepped through the door, she saw Melinda leaning against a section of the long brown and black granite countertop, the pastel colors of her sun dress complementing her skin. She was speaking with Annie, the elderly woman that ran the household like a drill sergeant.
Annie Whithers not only cooked for the family and the guests, she kept the huge house spic and span with the aid of two women who came in daily. Her husband was the handyman as well as the tender of the immediate grounds.
While every Felix family member pitched in when needed, they all seemed to defer to Annie and Bob when it came to their specific jobs. That alone spoke volumes to Gwen at their respect for the older couple.
When Annie and Melinda saw Gwen, their
conversation ceased and they both turned their heads to look at her. Feeling uncomfortable at interrupting an undoubtedly private conversation, Gwen hastened to say, “Should I come back?”
Melinda lips curved in a warm smile. “No, not at all, dear. We were just talking about recipes. Come on, you must be starved.”
Recipes her rear end. Unsure, Gwen hesitated, but then her stomach rumbled making the decision for her.
“Yeah. A bit.”
“Sit, sit. How about a turkey sandwich and some potato salad?”
As Annie was already bustling about, gathering the ingredients, Gwen figured it was a rhetorical question.
“Sounds fabulous.”
“Tea?” Melinda asked, reaching in one of the two industrial size refrigerators for the beverage as Gwen walked to the kitchen sink.
“Ah, sure.” While Gwen washed off her hands she glanced over her shoulder to see Annie mouth something to Melinda who responded with a sharp nod. Definitely a private conversation. Gwen turned off the tap, deciding to eat and run, and settled onto the bench seat of the long wood kitchen table.
“We had quite an interesting service today,” Melinda chatted happily as she laid a large iced tea in front of Gwen and then placed another across the table, settling gracefully into the padded wood chair.
Gwen looked up from where she was running a finger across a deep groove on the top of the table. Service? Oh, yeah. It was Sunday. “Oh?”
Melinda nodded. “Indeed. Our pastor was introduced to a book called The Five Love Languages and found the concept so profound he felt he had to share it with us.”
Okay. That was out of left field. Though she wasn’t by any stretch of the imagination a religious person, Gwen could get behind the general belief regaled in the Bible and the Ten Commandments, like the not stealing and honoring your parents. The not lying one was difficult at times.
Seriously, who never told a little white lie – no those pants don’t make your ass look big – but she most definitely agreed with the whole do not commit adultery one. Gwen figured that one was conceived because it could make the wronged party – male or female – commit another no-no.
Murder.
Unconsciously, her fingers tightened around the glass of tea. It was Annie that brought her back from those dark thoughts as the housekeeper placed a heaping plate in front of her. “It’s fascinating, really.”
“Thank you, Annie.” Gwen lifted a triangle of bread and took a huge bite, turning her gaze back to Melinda as if she were eager to hear more.
Melinda tilted her head, a speculative gleam in her eye as she leveled them on Gwen. “Hmm. Basically, it’s believed each person has a love language that needs to be fulfilled in order for that person to feel truly loved and cherished. And since men and women already speak different languages, I believe it’s a bridge to overcome that gap.”
Gwen had to agree about the male and female disconnect at least. Even her parents, married thirty-eight years, still misunderstood each other. “Okay.”
Using her fingers, Melinda ticked off the list. “The languages are physical touch, quality time, words of affirmation, acts of service, and gifts.”
Annie’s laugh rang out from where she was building more sandwiches from the counter. “I already know a man’s love language. Sex.”
Gwen nearly spit out the potato salad she’d just stuffed in her mouth, but Melinda only grinned. “It’s not only men who crave sex, Annie. Besides sex is separate from the languages. It’s like this.” She turned back to look at Gwen.
“You figure out what you’d rather have from your partner and that’s your love language.”
At Gwen’s raised brow Melinda continued. “For instance, what would make you happier? Having alone time with your significant other or having him wash your car?”
Gwen paused, the sandwich halfway to her mo
uth, and considered the question. “Wash my car.”
“Okay. Would you rather have your honey praise you or give you a massage?”
“Massage.” No hesitation that time.
“Hmmm. How about choosing between a hug or doing the laundry.”
“The hug.”
“All right. Would you feel more loved by your husband putting his arm around you or because of a gift he gives you, whether big or small, and had no ties to a holiday or your birthday?”
Gwen hesitated again. Not that she had a husband, but if she had, would his touch make her feel more loved or a gift? “The gift I think. To me, a special gift meant thought went behind the getting of the gift which in turn means I’m on his mind.”
Melinda nodded. “So your love language could be gifts.” Gwen frowned down at her plate. “So I’m materialistic.”
“No, not at all. It can be as simple as a rose from your own garden or even a hand drawn card. Mine is gifts as well, followed closely by quality time.”
“All right.” That confession didn’t make Gwen feel any better about her own greedy self, which must have shown on her face because Melinda waved her hands in the air like she was erasing a chalkboard.
“You seem worried, so here’s a real example. Andreas once bought me a jigsaw puzzle because he knows I like them. And when the dear man sat and worked it with me, I was in seventh heaven. Not only because I understand just how well my husband hates to be idle, but because we spent time together. He fulfilled my love languages without complaint because he wanted to make me happy. In turn I was more than happy to fulfill his love language. Physical touch.”
Annie snorted. “I told you so.”
Melinda didn’t even blush. “Physical touch is more than sex, Annie. It can be as benign as holding hands.”
“And holding hands leads to sex.”
Gwen butted in before Melinda could argue on that.
“So how do you know what another person’s language is, without asking them I mean.” Not that she was curious about a certain male that had been on her mind all morning long.
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