elderberry seeds.
“How the princess spent her summer vacation.” She could see the headline now.
She had to squeeze her eyes shut and bite her lip to keep the laughter from tumbling out.
She should refuse, of course. Give him the hundred dollars, beg a ride to town where she could contact her parents for a small loan or pawn the watch.
But, Lord, it was so
delicious.
And so wonderfully out of character. Wasn’t that precisely the purpose of this quest?
No televisions, no newspapers with her image on them. Interesting work in a beautiful part of the country she’d never spent time in. Learning things she found far more compelling than anything she’d studied in school and knowing she was making a positive impact solely on her own skills. Not because of who she was, or any obligations or favors—but most importantly because it was her choice.
No, she couldn’t possibly walk away from the opportunity that had just fallen into her lap.
“I’m very grateful.” Her voice trembled a bit with suppressed humor—which he mistook for the onset of tears.
Nothing could have frightened him more.
“It’s a fair deal, that’s all. Don’t get all sloppy about it.”
“A very fair deal.” She turned back, eyes shining, and struggled to keep her tone casual and brisk. “Accepted,” she added, and held out a hand.
He ignored the hand because he’d added a personal stipulation to the deal. He would not, in any way, shape or form, touch her.
“I’m going to get the generator started, in case we don’t get the power back. Clean something up. Just don’t touch my stuff.”
Camilla waited until she heard the rear doors slam behind him before she sat down and let the gales of laughter roll.
Chapter 4
An hour later, thoroughly appalled with the state of the cabin now that she had given it a thorough assessment, Camilla sailed into the shed. She was armed with a long list.
“You need supplies.”
“Hand me that damn wrench.”
She picked up the tool and considered herself beyond civilized for not simply bashing him over the head with it. “Your home is an abomination. I’ll require cleaning supplies—preferably industrial strength. And if you want a decent meal, I’ll need some food to stock the kitchen. You have to go into town.”
He battled the bolt into submission, shoved the switch on. And got nothing but a wheezy chuckle out of the generator. “I don’t have time to go into town.”
“If you want food for your belly and clean sheets on which to sleep, you’ll make time.”
He used the wrench to beat viciously at the generator, then gave it three solid kicks. Much too accustomed to the male response to irritating inanimate objects to be surprised, Camilla simply stood where she was, list in hand.
When he’d finished cursing, she angled her head. “I’ve always wondered why men refer to uncooperative machines with crude female euphemisms.”
“Because they fit like a glove.” He leaned over, slapped on the switch and grunted with satisfaction as the generator let out a loud belch and began to run.
“Now that you’ve accomplished that amazing feat, you’ll want to clean up before you go fill this list.”
Eyes narrowed on her face, he picked up the wrench again, weighed it consideringly in his hand.
The implication wasn’t lost on her. She simply stuck out her chin.
He tossed the wrench aside, snatched the list and smeared it with the motor oil on his fingers. “I hate bossy women.”
“I can’t stand crude men. We’ll both just have to live with it, since I’m currently washing your underwear.”
The faintest glint of humor flicked into his eyes. “You’ve got plenty of starch. Just don’t use any on my shorts.”
They started for the door at the same time, and ended up jammed together. Her hand went automatically to his chest where she felt the surprised kick of his heart match hers.
“You’re going to have to keep out of my way,” he told her.
“You’ll have to
“How the princess spent her summer vacation.” She could see the headline now.
She had to squeeze her eyes shut and bite her lip to keep the laughter from tumbling out.
She should refuse, of course. Give him the hundred dollars, beg a ride to town where she could contact her parents for a small loan or pawn the watch.
But, Lord, it was so
delicious.
And so wonderfully out of character. Wasn’t that precisely the purpose of this quest?
No televisions, no newspapers with her image on them. Interesting work in a beautiful part of the country she’d never spent time in. Learning things she found far more compelling than anything she’d studied in school and knowing she was making a positive impact solely on her own skills. Not because of who she was, or any obligations or favors—but most importantly because it was her choice.
No, she couldn’t possibly walk away from the opportunity that had just fallen into her lap.
“I’m very grateful.” Her voice trembled a bit with suppressed humor—which he mistook for the onset of tears.
Nothing could have frightened him more.
“It’s a fair deal, that’s all. Don’t get all sloppy about it.”
“A very fair deal.” She turned back, eyes shining, and struggled to keep her tone casual and brisk. “Accepted,” she added, and held out a hand.
He ignored the hand because he’d added a personal stipulation to the deal. He would not, in any way, shape or form, touch her.
“I’m going to get the generator started, in case we don’t get the power back. Clean something up. Just don’t touch my stuff.”
Camilla waited until she heard the rear doors slam behind him before she sat down and let the gales of laughter roll.
Chapter 4
An hour later, thoroughly appalled with the state of the cabin now that she had given it a thorough assessment, Camilla sailed into the shed. She was armed with a long list.
“You need supplies.”
“Hand me that damn wrench.”
She picked up the tool and considered herself beyond civilized for not simply bashing him over the head with it. “Your home is an abomination. I’ll require cleaning supplies—preferably industrial strength. And if you want a decent meal, I’ll need some food to stock the kitchen. You have to go into town.”
He battled the bolt into submission, shoved the switch on. And got nothing but a wheezy chuckle out of the generator. “I don’t have time to go into town.”
“If you want food for your belly and clean sheets on which to sleep, you’ll make time.”
He used the wrench to beat viciously at the generator, then gave it three solid kicks. Much too accustomed to the male response to irritating inanimate objects to be surprised, Camilla simply stood where she was, list in hand.
When he’d finished cursing, she angled her head. “I’ve always wondered why men refer to uncooperative machines with crude female euphemisms.”
“Because they fit like a glove.” He leaned over, slapped on the switch and grunted with satisfaction as the generator let out a loud belch and began to run.
“Now that you’ve accomplished that amazing feat, you’ll want to clean up before you go fill this list.”
Eyes narrowed on her face, he picked up the wrench again, weighed it consideringly in his hand.
The implication wasn’t lost on her. She simply stuck out her chin.
He tossed the wrench aside, snatched the list and smeared it with the motor oil on his fingers. “I hate bossy women.”
“I can’t stand crude men. We’ll both just have to live with it, since I’m currently washing your underwear.”
The faintest glint of humor flicked into his eyes. “You’ve got plenty of starch. Just don’t use any on my shorts.”
They started for the door at the same time, and ended up jammed together. Her hand went automatically to his chest where she felt the surprised kick of his heart match hers.
“You’re going to have to keep out of my way,” he told her.
“You’ll have to
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