“Ethan Morgan, I live a few cabins down. I’m head of the neighborhood watch. I saw the lights and thought I’d check things out. Make sure everything is okay.”
Cecile flipped the kitchen light on and grabbed the first weapon-like object she could get her hands on and wrenched the door open. This wasn’t the kind of story that a mass murderer would make up, she was fairly certain, but better safe than sorry.
“Surely you’re kidding?” Cecile asked skeptically. “I’m sorry if I’m crabby, but I’m trying to get some sleep here. I just drove eighteen hours and I’m exhausted.” She said to the darkness. Cecile couldn’t make out any features of the hulking figure on the front porch. She flipped on the switch to the porch light and was displeased when nothing happened. Evidentially the bulb was burned out.
“Everything is fine, but thanks for checking,” she made to close the door and at the same time he stepped forward out of the shadows and into the wedge of light that had pooled onto the dark front porch. As he did, the light from the kitchen illuminated his face just enough so that Cecile could clearly make out his features. She stopped herself just short of gasping in surprise.
Ethan Morgan might have been the head of the neighborhood watch by night, but Cecile was fairly certain he was some sort of male model or an outrageously good-looking lumberjack by day. He was six foot tall, at least, and had the kind of broad shoulders and brawny arms female fantasies were made of. Dark hair, a square jaw and Roman nose rounded out his jaw-dropping features.
“Sorry to bother you at this hour ma’am. I haven’t seen anyone in this cabin for years and then I saw the lights. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay,” he looked at her with a wry smile. “Awfully late to be making waffles,” he said with a slight chuckle as he looked at what she clutched in her right hand.
Cecile dropped her eyes to the clunky, 1960s-era waffle-maker she’d grabbed in a moment of desperation. The metal monstrosity might be heavy, but she realized in her haste she’d selected a poor choice of weapon. If Ethan had been an axe-murderer, she wouldn’t have been able to fend him off with a kitchen appliance, no matter how bulky.
“Oh, this,” she said with a laugh and a shake of her head, causing her glossy brown hair to sweep across her shoulders, “I was just…tidying up before bed.” Cecile felt idiotic. What an absurd lie.
“Is that right?” he asked in disbelief as his eyes briefly travelled into the dusty kitchen and the spider-infested cobwebs clinging to the walls. “So I noticed you have out of state plates. I guess you’re here on vacation?”
“You could say that, yes. I’m sorry, I’m Cecile Day,” she said as set the waffle-maker on the counter top. She opened the screen door and extended her right hand. Ethan returned her handshake with a warm firm grasp. At the touch of his large hand, Cecile felt a bit faint. He’s so…masculine, she thought. She garnered her composure and continued.
“My family owns this cabin, but like you said, none of us have used it in years. I just got in from Denver, long drive.”
He took this as his cue to excuse himself. “Okay, I won’t keep you from your rest. Sorry for the intrusion. Have a good evening,” he called to her as he headed down the front steps.
“You too,” she replied for lack of anything better to say.
Cecile closed and locked the front door, although knowing a man like Ethan Morgan was the captain of the neighborhood watch committee gave her more peace of mind than any lock ever could. With his Paul Bunyan-like proportions, she didn’t doubt he could take on an intruder without breaking a sweat. That’s enough of that, she thought. For all she knew the man could be married. Cecile didn’t want to drool over another woman’s husband. Ordinarily she made it a habit to look at a handsome man’s ring finger upon meeting him, but it had been dark on the front porch. She had been too mesmerized by his face, arms and shoulders to notice his left hand.
She made a mental note to make sure she checked the next time she saw Ethan. As Cecile pulled off her jeans and sweatshirt and threw on her pajamas, she felt a small pang of guilt. She had broken up with Parker only days ago and she was already drooling over her new neighbor. While Cecile realized she was free to date whomever she chose, as was Parker, she couldn’t help but feel a bit hesitant.
She climbed onto the bed, pulled the covers over her and rolled onto her side, drawing her knees up to her chest. Momentarily pensive, Cecile wondered if her feelings of guilt were warranted. No, she told herself, I might’ve just broken up with Parker, but our relationship had been over for a while. Yes, she was free to do with her life what she wished, that included dating whomever she chose. With that thought in her head, Cecile drifted toward sleep with a smile on her face.
Love in Greener Pastures Page 11
