For Another Day (One Strike Away Book 2) by Mary J. Williams

Author:Mary J. Williams [Williams, Mary J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Brook Publications
Published: 2017-06-20T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

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"MARSHA CALLS THIS a cabin? I don't think so."

Rowan stared at the building wondering if they had the wrong place.

"A little shack in the woods doesn't need a caretaker," Nick told her as he unloaded their things. "But I agree. Marsha undersold this place just a little."

Rustic chic? Was that even a thing? Rowan figured the term fit. The logs—hewn by hand, no doubt—were huge. Which made sense. So was the house. The porch alone could hold a hundred people comfortably. She could almost see the beautiful people dressed in white, sipping some ridiculous cocktail invented especially for the occasion.

"Too many Dynasty reruns."

"Whatever you're daydreaming about, save it for tomorrow. The temperature is dropping as we speak. Let's get inside."

"How many rooms do you think this place has?"

"While I light a fire, you can count." Nick opened the door, standing aside for Rowan to enter.

"Somebody beat you to the punch."

On the far side of a huge living room, a stone fireplace dominated the wall. The wood inside was ablaze.

"A cheery welcome."

"And a dangerous one."

"Don't worry. I would never leave a fire untended."

Startled, Rowan spun around. A small, wiry-looking man of indeterminate age set their suitcases by the stairs. A big, welcoming smile on his face, he held out his hand.

"Name's Jimmy Sears. No relation to the store."

Shaking his hand, Rowan had to smile back. Jimmy had that kind of face. One that drew a person in.

"You must be Marsha's caretaker," Nick said.

"Right the first time. I live about three miles up the mountain. Take care of several homes 'round these parts. Lots of city folks build vacation places. I'm one of a handful of year-round residents."

"We appreciate the fire."

"All part of the job. There's plenty of split wood in a pile just outside the back door." Jimmy tipped his head in the direction of the kitchen. "I'll bring in the last of your bags then get out of your way. If you need anything, don't hesitate to call. If I'm not around, my wife will take a message."

"Thank you, Jimmy." Rowan looked at Nick. "Want some tea?"

"Sounds good. And something to eat. Marsha mentioned that Jimmy stocked the fridge."

"Angie already took care of dinner."

Rowan picked up the wicker basket sitting next to their suitcases, sitting it on the granite countertop.

"You unpack that while I heat up the water."

The cupboards were well organized—another thank you to Jimmy. With little trouble, Rowan found a canister of loose-leaf tea and two heavy ceramic mugs. She filled the electric kettle which sported more buttons and settings than she had ever seen on a small appliance.

"There's enough food here for a small army." Nick lifted the lid on one of the containers, breathing in the aroma. "I don't know what this is, but I think I'm in love."

"When food is involved, Angie believes the more, the better." Rowan opened another container. "Ravioli. My favorite. Green salad with her special dressing. Black olives. Spaghetti. Manicotti. Chicken Parmesan. Antipasto."

"Tiramisu?" Nick showed her the luscious dessert.

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