drained, she reached in the fridge for a Mountain Dew and popped the top. After a long swig, she felt better. Then she slipped a Kid Rock CD in the boom box for added inspiration. In no time, she had the rest of the cookies baked and spicy-hot chili simmering on the stove in a big pot.
While rubbing the small of her back, Sierra glanced at the digital clock on the microwave and wished it was later in the day. She winced when she remembered she was supposed to sweep out Dakota Dunn’s cabin and take her some supplies. “Well, hell’s bells.” Grumbling under her breath, she gathered up some linens and soap along with a few other basics and loaded them in the golf cart that she used when cleaning the cabins.
Even though Dakota’s car was still parked out front, no one answered her knock. But wanting to complete her task and head home, Sierra opened the front door with her master key.
“Hello?” she called out, but when she discovered that Dakota was sleeping, Sierra closed the bedroom door, thinking it must be nice to be able to sleep in this late. She decided to do a quick, quiet once-over and leave the supplies. While humming softly, she broom swept the floor and then lightly dusted the furniture. Since they didn’t offer daily maid service at the fishing camp Sierra didn’t have to clean on a regular basis, but even so she had the drill down to a science. And so her mind wandered, usually about what her menu was going to be or supplies she needed in town. But today visions of Grady filled her head.
As Sierra spruced up the bathroom, she wondered how it would feel to be in Grady’s arms and to kiss him. But after wiping Windex from the mirror, she paused to gaze at her reflection and shook her head slowly. “Lordy, I need help,” she whispered.
Wayward curls that had escaped her ponytail had started to frizz, and her dark eyebrows, she knew, were in need of plucking. She decided her mouth was one of her better features, and she shrugged, thinking that her nose was okay. Not too big or small. She put her fingertips to her high cheekbones but had no idea how to play them up. And while she knew that her eyes—vivid green flecked with gold—were unusual, they were her best feature. But makeup and fashion left her totally clueless. Her few experiments with eye shadow had left her looking as if she should be standing on a street corner, and so she had quickly given up.
“Oh, well,” she mumbled, and dropped her gaze from her reflection to the sink and finished up. After placing a small bar of soap in the dish, she leaned over to put a fresh roll of toilet paper in the holder when a high-pitched “Ohmigod!” startled her from her thoughts.
Sierra stood upright so fast that she lost her balance and grabbed for the shower curtain, which came loose. She landed with a painful thump in the bathtub. Groaning, she struggled to free herself from the clear plastic decorated with fish, but had somehow become entangled in it.
“Ohmigod!” Dakota yelped. “Are you hurt?”
“How the hell do I know?” Sierra looked up through the plastic and saw a blurry but clearly startled Dakota with her hand to her mouth. “Well, don’t just stand there! Give me a doggone hand!”
“Oh! Okay.” She started to bend over, but then paused. “Hey, just who are you anyway?”
“The damned maid service for your ass!” Sierra grumbled, sounding muffled behind the swimming fish. Then she reluctantly remembered that Dakota was her boss. “I mean for you . Hey, come on and help, would ya?”
Dakota reached over but tripped over the cleaning-supply caddy and stumbled. Sierra’s eyes widened when Dakota reached for something—anything—to break her fall, and yelled as Dakota turned on the coldwater nozzle before tumbling into the tub.
“Holy crap, are you trying to kill me?” Sierra grunted after taking an elbow to the gut.
“Sorry! God that water is freezing!” she sputtered.
“Get off!”
“I’m
While rubbing the small of her back, Sierra glanced at the digital clock on the microwave and wished it was later in the day. She winced when she remembered she was supposed to sweep out Dakota Dunn’s cabin and take her some supplies. “Well, hell’s bells.” Grumbling under her breath, she gathered up some linens and soap along with a few other basics and loaded them in the golf cart that she used when cleaning the cabins.
Even though Dakota’s car was still parked out front, no one answered her knock. But wanting to complete her task and head home, Sierra opened the front door with her master key.
“Hello?” she called out, but when she discovered that Dakota was sleeping, Sierra closed the bedroom door, thinking it must be nice to be able to sleep in this late. She decided to do a quick, quiet once-over and leave the supplies. While humming softly, she broom swept the floor and then lightly dusted the furniture. Since they didn’t offer daily maid service at the fishing camp Sierra didn’t have to clean on a regular basis, but even so she had the drill down to a science. And so her mind wandered, usually about what her menu was going to be or supplies she needed in town. But today visions of Grady filled her head.
As Sierra spruced up the bathroom, she wondered how it would feel to be in Grady’s arms and to kiss him. But after wiping Windex from the mirror, she paused to gaze at her reflection and shook her head slowly. “Lordy, I need help,” she whispered.
Wayward curls that had escaped her ponytail had started to frizz, and her dark eyebrows, she knew, were in need of plucking. She decided her mouth was one of her better features, and she shrugged, thinking that her nose was okay. Not too big or small. She put her fingertips to her high cheekbones but had no idea how to play them up. And while she knew that her eyes—vivid green flecked with gold—were unusual, they were her best feature. But makeup and fashion left her totally clueless. Her few experiments with eye shadow had left her looking as if she should be standing on a street corner, and so she had quickly given up.
“Oh, well,” she mumbled, and dropped her gaze from her reflection to the sink and finished up. After placing a small bar of soap in the dish, she leaned over to put a fresh roll of toilet paper in the holder when a high-pitched “Ohmigod!” startled her from her thoughts.
Sierra stood upright so fast that she lost her balance and grabbed for the shower curtain, which came loose. She landed with a painful thump in the bathtub. Groaning, she struggled to free herself from the clear plastic decorated with fish, but had somehow become entangled in it.
“Ohmigod!” Dakota yelped. “Are you hurt?”
“How the hell do I know?” Sierra looked up through the plastic and saw a blurry but clearly startled Dakota with her hand to her mouth. “Well, don’t just stand there! Give me a doggone hand!”
“Oh! Okay.” She started to bend over, but then paused. “Hey, just who are you anyway?”
“The damned maid service for your ass!” Sierra grumbled, sounding muffled behind the swimming fish. Then she reluctantly remembered that Dakota was her boss. “I mean for you . Hey, come on and help, would ya?”
Dakota reached over but tripped over the cleaning-supply caddy and stumbled. Sierra’s eyes widened when Dakota reached for something—anything—to break her fall, and yelled as Dakota turned on the coldwater nozzle before tumbling into the tub.
“Holy crap, are you trying to kill me?” Sierra grunted after taking an elbow to the gut.
“Sorry! God that water is freezing!” she sputtered.
“Get off!”
“I’m
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