“On the table,” he says, and I see his eyes drift to my blouse.
Inside, I’m smirking. He’s so predictable. I carry the tray to the table and set it down. With my body facing him, I bend forward, letting my low-cut blouse fall open at the top, then I slowly arrange the plates, napkins, and forks on the table.
“Drake,” I hear The Witch whine in a voice that says he’s not paying attention to her.
My gaze snaps to his face and I catch him looking down my blouse, but then his eyes go to his lady friend. I smile as I pick up the tray and carry it back into the house.
A few minutes later, when I’m in the middle of cleaning up from making the salad, I hear the kitchen door open. My gaze meets Drake’s. “Did you need something, Mr. Drake?”
He frowns, I assume from my emphasis on mister. “Yes. You forgot the drinks.”
“Oopsie.” I dry my hands on the towel and turn to face him. “What would you like?” I tilt my body in a flirtatious manner.
His gaze sweeps over me, then goes back to my face. “We’d both like some tea.”
“Okay.” I take the tea kettle from the stove and fill it with water from the tap, set the teapot on the stove, then turn on the flame. “It should be ready soon.”
He stares at me. “I know what you’re doing.”
I look at him with innocence. “I’m making tea, just like you asked.”
He smirks. “I’m talking about outside.” He gestures to the kitchen door, then faces me. “And just now.”
The kitchen door swings inward and The Witch saunters in wrapped in a towel. “It’s too cold to sit out there and eat.”
“I’m sorry, love,” Drake says, which sets my teeth on edge. “Let me turn on the heaters.”
“Thank you, sweetheart,” she coos as he walks past her, then out to the patio. She glares at me, then follows him outside.
When the tea kettle whistles, I carry it, along with two teacups and an assortment of teas I found in a cupboard, out to the patio. Drake has turned on a pair of propane patio heaters, and now the area around the table is toasty warm. I set the teacups, tea, and tea kettle on the table, then smile at Drake. “Will there be anything else, Mr. Drake?”
It looks like he’s about to scowl, but then he must remember that this is all part of the charade, and he smiles pleasantly. “No. You may go.”
I turn and sashay to the door, knowing he has a clear view of my backside, then go inside and nearly slam the tray on the counter. I’m hating feeling like the hired help, although I am enjoying getting under Drake’s skin with my role-playing.
I wonder if deep-down it bothers him to treat me like this, but the other option can’t appeal to him either—confessing to The Witch that he picked me up on the side of the road, brought me home, slept with me, then invited me to stay for a few extra days. No, that would not go over well.
I finish cleaning up, then look around to see what else I can do. Sitting by myself in my room doesn’t sound like much fun, but the kitchen is sparkling clean, so I go into the living room, find the Lord of the Rings book I’d been reading before, and stretch out on the couch. I figure I’ll hear Drake and The Witch come in, and I can get off of the couch before they catch me loafing on the job.
A while later I’m so focused on reading—not to mention that I’ve forgotten the role I’m supposed to be playing—that when Drake and his lady friend come into the living room and find me stretched out on the couch, it takes me a minute to understand why Drake looks upset.
“Oh,” I say as I spring off of the couch. “Sorry.” I leave it at that, but I notice The Witch’s obvious disapproval that the help would take such liberties as to make herself at home. I’m standing next to the couch facing Drake and wondering what I should do next. “Is there something I can get for you?” I finally say.
“No,” he says. “You may be excused.”
I bristle at his obvious dismissal, but take my book and head up to my room anyway.
Thirty
DRAKE
I sit next to Rachel on the couch, but my mind’s on Ashley. I think about her behavior and have to hold back a smile. She’s obviously unhappy with the situation, and I can’t blame her, but she seems to be taking it in stride. The situation has certainly brought out her spunky side.
“Drake,” Rachel purrs beside me. “What are you thinking about?”
Whether or not to break up with you.
I smile at her, but can’t help but feel a little sorry for her. She’s so sophisticated, but in some ways she can’t hold a candle to Ashley.
“Just how happy I am to see you, love,” I say, which is a complete falsehood. Her showing up unexpectedly is about as welcome as the storm ending. After I sent Ashley on her way the day before, I almost immediately regretted it. That’s why I went after her—and thank goodness I did. The thought of that disgusting drunk attacking her makes me go rigid with fury.
“I missed you so much,” Rachel says. “I just had to come see you.”
I take her hand and lift it to my lips, kissing the smooth skin on the back. But this reminds me of doing the same thing with Ashley on Saturday night, and I know I’ve behaved in a despicable manner.
Ashley must hate me. She’s only staying here because she’s too frightened to go back to that motel. Otherwise I’m certain she’d be gone in a second.
I try not to think about that and instead focus on Rachel. Until I decide for sure what I want to do, I need to treat her as I always do—with love and respect.
ASHLEY
After shutting my door, I lie on my bed with my head propped up on the pillows and try to ignore the occasional laughter that floats up to me. Hours later there’s a soft knock on my door. “Come in.”
The door opens and Drake stands in the doorway. “Hey, can you make some dinner?”
I’m sprawled on my bed. I stare at him, then frown. “You owe me big for this.”
He chuckles softly. “I know.”
With a scowl, I climb off the bed, then push past him and head to the kitchen. As I pass the living room I see The Witch stretched out in my spot on the couch, and my hackles rise.
Ignoring her, I go into the kitchen. I have no idea what to make, but I look through the freezer to see what Drake has in there. I find some chicken and thaw it in the microwave, then put together a chicken enchilada recipe that my mom taught me to make.
I toss a salad, then set the table for two—oh how that irks me. After preparing a plate for myself, I set everything out for Drake and his guest, then go into the living room to let them know it’s ready. When I see The Witch sitting by herself, I’m surprised. “Where’s Drake? I mean, Mr. Drake?”
She narrows her eyes, like she knows I’m pulling something over on her—which I am. “He’s in his office,” she finally says.
I don’t reply, but just turn and walk down the hall like I own the place. I can feel her eyes boring into me and I smirk, because I know what’s going on and she doesn’t. Drake is sitting in front of his computer, so I stop in the doorway. “Dinner’s ready, Mr. Drake.”
He turns and looks at me and seems to barely hold back a scowl. I don’t know why he’s mad at me—I’m doing exactly what he’s asked me to do—so I scowl back. “I’ll be in my room.”
His features smooth out, like he’s just realized he’s being a jerk—something I’ve known all along. “Thanks, Ashley. I really appreciate it.”
“Uh-huh.” I turn and go back to the kitchen to get my food, then carry it up to my room and close the door behind me. I wait an hour or so, then head to the kitchen to clean up the dishes. Rachel is in the living room by herself again and I’m almost starting to feel sorry for her—she came all the way to see Drake and he’s spending most of his time working. Okay, it’s Monday, and she just dropped by without any warning, but still.
I clean up the kitchen and decide to make dessert—I’m sort of getting into this housekeeper thing. I dig through Drake’s cupboards and find the ingredients
to make a fresh batch of oatmeal cookies. When the first batch is cooling on the counter, Drake wanders into the kitchen. “Mmm. What’s that smell?”
I smile at him. “I made oatmeal cookies.” I notice he’s by himself. “Where’s Rachel?”
Guilt flashes across his face. “She fell asleep on the couch. I guess I’ve been kind of busy and haven’t paid enough attention to her.”
“I’m sure she’ll get over it.” Of course I have no idea how this woman operates. Maybe she’ll hold a grudge for days, but I don’t really care about their relationship and don’t want to talk about it. “Have a cookie.” I gesture to the cooling treats.
Drake helps himself. “Mmm. These are delicious.” He smiles at me. “You’re quite the cook.”
A blush rises on my cheeks. “Thanks.”
He eats another. “Aren’t you going to have any?”
My blush deepens. “I had some cookie dough.”
“Oh. You’re one of those.”
“One of whats?”
“The kind of girl who can’t wait for the cookies to be done, so she eats the dough.”
“I happen to like cookie dough.”
He pours himself a glass of milk. “You seem to feel pretty comfortable in my kitchen.”
I glance at him and notice a smile growing on his mouth. “Well, I am the housekeeper,” I say. “I should know my way around.”
“Yes, you should.”
Footsteps approach and a moment later Rachel appears in the entry to the kitchen. “What’s going on in here?” she asks.
“Ashley made cookies,” Drake says.
Rachel frowns. “Oh.”
I force myself to smile at her. “Would you like some?”
“Oh no. I don’t eat sugar.” Her mouth puckers like she smells something sour.
“Your loss,” I mutter as I turn my back on both her and Drake.
“Let’s go in the living room, love,” Drake says.
The sound of him calling her “love” irritates me, and I roll my eyes. Once I’m done cleaning up, I have nowhere to go but my room. This time when I pass through the living room, I see Drake and The Witch snuggling on the couch. Studiously ignoring them, I go up the stairs to my room and close the door.
A little while later I hear raised voices and I press my ear to my door to see if I can tell what’s going on. It sounds like they’re arguing, and when I hear The Witch mention my name, I cringe on Drake’s behalf. A moment later I hear footsteps ascending the staircase, then passing my room. Next, I hear a door slam.
When no sounds follow, I peek out my door and see that the door to Drake’s room stands open. Evidently his lady friend is in the other guest room. The thought makes me happy. If they’ve had a fight, she won’t be spending the night in Drake’s room.
Unless they make up.
I frown at the thought.
Thirty-One
DRAKE
I sit on the couch and stare at the crackling fire and think about my conversation with Rachel.
She’d started in on Ashley and how she thought I should fire her—as if I could. But when I told her I was happy with the job Ashley was doing—and she’d actually been doing a fantastic job—Rachel had become upset. Then she’d accused me of lying about who Ashley really was and of cheating on her with Ashley—which I had.
The conversation had deteriorated from there, and she’d stomped upstairs in a huff.
Now, as I consider who I would rather be with, Rachel or Ashley, I’m surprised when Ashley’s face fills my mind.
Huh.
With a smile of amused delight, I watch the flames consume the logs in the fire.
ASHLEY
I don’t come out of my room again except to get ready for bed, and when I hear Drake pass by, I listen intently to see if he stops to apologize to Rachel, but all remains silent. Inwardly, I smile, glad he seems to be leaving her to her own devices.
Early the next morning I hear a car start up. I jump out of bed and look out my window and see the black Escalade driving off. I sigh with happiness.
When I go to the bathroom to shower, I notice that Drake’s door is closed. After I get ready for the day, I peek into the guest room and see that the bed has been slept in. Giddy with happiness that Drake didn’t sleep with that woman, I strip the sheets off of the bed, find a fresh set in the linen closet, then begin making up the bed.
“She’s gone now,” Drake says from the doorway. “You don’t have to play housekeeper anymore.”
I turn and look at him, then laugh. “Okay. I’ll let you finish.” I step away from the bed.
Drake walks into the room and deftly finishes the job.
“I’m impressed,” I say.
He turns to me with a smile. “Why? You don’t think I’m capable of doing the housekeeping?”
I smile in return. “Maybe.”
“Shows how much you know.”
“She left kind of early,” I say.
“Uh-huh.” He stares at the bed, then turns to me. “How about if I make breakfast this morning?”
“It’s the least you can do after all the cooking I did yesterday.”
He smiles. “Let’s go.”
I follow him down the stairs and into the kitchen.
“What would you like today?” he asks. “Waffles? Pancakes? Bacon and eggs?”
“Hmm. Waffles sound good.”
“Waffles it is.”
Twenty minutes later we’re sitting across from each other at the table, eating. “So, why did Rachel leave so early?” I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me.
“Why do you want to know?”
Not able to help myself, I grin. “She was pissed at you last night.”
Looking unhappy, he cuts off a piece of waffle and places it in his mouth. “Yeah. So.”
“Why?”
“Aren’t you the nosy one?”
“Aren’t you the lying son of a bitch?” I shoot back.
His unhappiness turns to outright anger. “What?”
“You lied to her and told her I was your housekeeper.” I enunciate all three syllables of the last word.
He grunts in reply.
When he doesn’t say anything else, I say, “I heard her say my name when you were fighting last night.”
He focuses on his food and doesn’t answer.
“So?” I say after his prolonged silence.
He looks at me, his eyebrows raised.
“You were fighting about me,” I say. “Weren’t you?”
He gazes at me a moment. “I don’t think she bought the housekeeper act.”
“What?” Somehow I’m offended. Didn’t I do a good enough job? Does she have a real housekeeper and that’s how she knew I was a fake?
“Yeah.”
“Huh.” Maybe that would be the last of her. Well, good riddance to bad rubbish, and all that.
“What do you mean, ‘huh’?” Drake drinks some orange juice, but keeps his gaze on me.
“I just mean, I don’t know why she didn’t believe it. That’s all. I mean, I thought I did a convincing job.” I frown. “I worked my butt off, you know.”
“I know.” He grins. “Maybe it was at lunch yesterday. I think she knew I was watching you.”
A smile lifts the corners of my mouth. “So you admit you were watching me.”
“You know I was.”
“Yes,” I say with a smirk. “I do.”
After several moments of silence, I say, “I don’t understand what you see in her.”
He scowls. “And since you know me so well, you know what I want in a woman.”
“I know the other day you accused me of having a princess complex, but it seems to me that The Wit . . . I mean, Rachel, is the one with the princess complex.”
His scowl remains. “You don’t know her at all.”
I lift my glass to my lips and murmur into the rim, “And I don’t want to.”
“Look, I have a lot of work to do.”
I set my glass down and smile. “I’d be happy to clean up, Mister Drake.”
His scowl deepens, if that’s possible, but he mutters, “Thanks.” Then he gets up from the table and strides out of the room.
As I clean the kitchen, I smile when I remember Drake’s comment that I seem to be really comfortable in his kitchen. It’s true, and I marvel at it as I only met the man four days earlier.
My, how things can change.
When I’m done, I go upstairs to get my Lord of the Rings book and carry it to the living room where I stretch out on the couch and continue reading, happy to have my spot back. Two hours later I decide Drake needs a break from working so hard, and I go to his office. He’s poring over some document on his computer, so I stand in the doorway and loudly clear my throat.
He turns and looks at me. “What’s up?”
“You need to take a break and come play.”
He stares at me a moment, then the creases on his forehead smooth out. “You know, I think you’re right.”
I’m delighted because I thought he would refuse. “Really?”
He grins. “Yeah, really.” He stands. “I think we need to have another snowball fight. You know, to see if you’re any better.”
My eyebrows rise. “It’s not like I’ve had any practice since the last one.”
He grins. “Then you’d better be good at hiding.”
A thrill of anticipation pulses through me and I’m eager to play his games. “That sounds like a challenge.”
“It is indeed.” He smiles. “I think your snow clothes are still in the laundry room.”
“Okay. I’ll meet you in a bit.”
Thirty-Two
ASHLEY
A short time later we’re standing in front of the snowman we built three days earlier.
“Still think it looks awesome?” Drake asks.
Drake and Ashley: The Complete Story Page 11
