CHAPTER FIVE
Standing on the porch with the duffel bag slung over his shoulder, Henry steeled himself for what lay on the other side of the torn screen door.
He wasn’t expecting the Ritz-Carlton, but he didn’t relish the thought of living in a dive for the next month.
On rare occasions, he’d stayed in four-star hotels, but he didn’t like roughing it.
He hoped for clean and comfortable. Perhaps it would have the rustic charm of a lodge, like some of the places in Hood Hamlet.
As Elisabeth opened the door, the hinges squeaked. Forest-green paint peeled away, revealing various layers of blue, yellow, and orange. “My great-grandfather built this house.”
Henry respected being surrounded by so much history and family.
His own grandfather had left him a legacy.
Instead of a farm, though, Henry had received a multimillion-dollar trust fund that Brett had turned into billions, and Blaise added more billions on top of that.
Henry was happy old Gramps had been a businessman and not a farmer.
Without his money, Henry couldn’t imagine what he would do every day.
He’d never had a job. Well, until today.
“It was a wedding present for my great-grandmother,” she added.
“How romantic.”
The faraway look in Elisabeth’s eyes intrigued him. “I suppose it was.”
She motioned him inside. As he passed her, a floral scent, like wildflowers, wafted in the air. The fragrance was subtle, too light for a perfume, and he wondered if it was her soap or shampoo. She bumped into him as he contemplated whether she preferred bubble baths or showers. “I’m sorry.”
“My fault,” he said, turning. He couldn’t help but notice when they collided that she was soft in all the right places. His temperature shot up. “I was blocking the doorway.”
They stood mere inches away from each other. A second passed, then another. He should move out of her way.
Or step aside.
Or kiss her.
“Excuse me,” she said finally and pushed past him.
So much for being suave and debonair. This awkwardness wasn’t like him at all. Must be the country air interfering with his gift of charm and sophistication.
As he followed her into the living room, the scent of something sweet, not floral but fruity, lingered in the air, making his mouth water. The delicious fragrance appealed to both his nose and his stomach.
“I need to help Caitlin. I’ll be right back.” She hurried up the stairs before he could say anything.
Henry stood in the living room. His first thought was that a tornado had hit the place. But the house didn’t look sturdy enough to withstand gale-force winds. That meant the mess was most likely man-made. Or rather kid-made.
He glanced around. How could three kids do so much damage?
Old stuffed animals that looked like thrift store rejects sat on the couch.
Bent and ripped playing cards were scattered over the scratched hardwood floors.
Coloring books and crayons covered the beat-up and ring-stained coffee table.
Overturned chairs were haphazardly tented with blankets and pillows.
A stack of very old magazines based on the cover photos littered a recliner.
The magazines moved. Henry jumped back.
A fat, long-haired gray cat crawled out from beneath the pile. The feline’s hypnotic green eyes focused on Henry, then it turned, fluffy tail swishing in the air, and bounded up the stairs. Henry wished he could walk out the front door and back home.
Not for a month.
It wasn’t that long. At least that was what he kept telling himself.
Henry had to give Cynthia credit. He hadn’t expected her to pull off a real adventure.
Elisabeth returned sooner than he expected. “The house is always a mess. I try to get everybody to pick up after themselves, but there’s only so much one person can do.”
“It has that…lived-in look.”
“Lived-in.” She smiled. “You’re just being polite, but I like it.”
I like you.
“You’ll see how lived-in things get with kids around,” she continued.
Stop now. Alarm bells rang in Henry’s head.
He needed to slam the brakes on his feelings for Elisabeth.
He understood his physical attraction to her.
Beautiful, gorgeous, sexy, she was all those things and more, but he didn’t understand why the rest of the package—server with a farm and three siblings—wasn’t putting a damper on said attraction.
Sure, they weren’t her kids, but with her parents gone, they might as well be. He avoided dating women with children. He worried about an innocent bystander getting hurt once whatever relationship he was involved in came to an end. And they always came to an end. He couldn’t help himself.
A good reason to keep his distance from his appealing boss.
As much distance as possible, considering he was living in the same house and working on the farm with her.
No matter his attraction, it couldn’t go further and wouldn’t.
There would be no flirting whatsoever between him and Elisabeth with an S.
Regret inched its way down his spine.
“This is the living room,” she said, looking away. “We have a new TV, but no satellite dish. Not that there’s much time to sit around and watch television.”
The set was on the small size compared to his at home—thirty-two inches if he was being generous.
“The kids were so excited when we won the TV at Peterson’s Electronics and Hardware store last month.”
They weren’t the only ones. As Elisabeth smiled, a dimple appeared on her left cheek and made him rethink his no-moms rule, but only for a moment.
So much enthusiasm for a run-of-the-mill television set. He’d been excited by his theater room back home with its cinema-quality sound system and screen for a couple of days until the novelty wore off, as it did with all his other must-have toys. “How did you win it?”
“We guessed the number of nails in a five-gallon water bottle. Abby figured it out. She was off by four. No one else was close.” Elisabeth lowered her voice. “She’s good with numbers. And pretty much anything else.”
“What about Sam?” Henry followed her through a doorway and into a large kitchen. The white cupboards brightened the room and made up for the faded, peeling floral wallpaper. On the floor sat bowls of different shapes. No doubt the gray cat wasn’t the only pet.
“Sam’s a big help with the girls and the farm,” she said. “But I don’t want him to grow up too fast. He should be a kid for as long as possible.”
The kitchen was a mess, too, with bowls and glasses covering the faux-wood Formica countertops. Breakfast dishes? He could only hope. The one pleasant item he saw was a pie on the stove. Must be what he smelled earlier.
“Help yourself to whatever’s in the cupboards or fridge.
I keep the cookie jar filled, but with the kids, you never know how many will be left.
” She motioned to a large ceramic bowl filled with apples, oranges, and bananas.
“You’re welcome to join us for meals. It’s never anything fancy, but food is food. ”
His personal chef and Iris would beg to differ, but Henry wasn’t about to tell Elisabeth that. “Thank you.”
Her gaze met his. “You might want to wait until you taste my cooking before you thank me.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
A tinge of pink colored her cheeks. He didn’t know many women who still blushed. He liked it.
“The kids are a little too quiet,” she said. “We’d better head upstairs.”
The staircase was wide with a wood banister and carved balustrades. Photographs covered the wall leading up to the second floor. A picture of Sam riding a tricycle. Abby sitting on the back of a pony. Caitlin in the center of a pumpkin patch. Henry did a double take. “You were a cheerleader?”
“In high school.”
“Homecoming queen, too?”
“No, but I was the Berry Patch Harvest Princess.”
“Sounds better than homecoming queen.”
“It was.” Elisabeth’s smile reached her eyes. The effect—stunning. “I got to wear a crown for an entire week and ride on a float.”
“That does beat homecoming queen. But what is the Berry Patch Harvest, and why do they need a princess?”
“Every year, Berry Patch hosts a big harvest festival. It’s a glorified country fair with a carnival, dance, food, and competitions.”
Henry had never been to a country fair. It sounded old-fashioned but fun. Maybe that would be a good theme for one of his birthday parties, though he didn’t know what kind of adventure would go along with a fair. “Will you be running for the title again this year?”
“I’m too old for that.”
He wasn’t sure of her age. She looked to be in her mid-twenties but seemed older. Must be her circumstance. “I doubt that.”
“The cutoff is twenty-one, and I’m almost twenty-five.”
Henry was ten years older than her. “That’s too bad because I bet you were the best Harvest Princess Berry Patch ever had.”
The corners of her mouth curved. She started to speak but stopped. Henry thought he saw gratitude in her eyes.
“There are three bedrooms and”—she pushed open a door—“a bathroom up here.”
“Bathroom?”
“There’s only one in the house.”
But it was in the house. No treks to the outhouse in the middle of the night. He pumped his fist at his side. Cynthia would be so disappointed.
“It’s large, though, with both a shower and a bathtub.”
“Abby and I fit in there,” Caitlin whispered from a doorway. A small baby doll was tucked under her left arm.
Henry stared at the little girl.
“Why are you being so quiet?” Elisabeth asked.
“All of my babies are sleeping in my new bed. Your bed.” Caitlin put her finger to her lips and made a shushing sound. “We don’t want to wake them. Do you want to be the daddy?”
Henry’s jaw tensed. “Uh, not right now.”
“Later?”
“Where’s Abby?” Elisabeth whispered, trying to let Henry off the hot seat.
“With Sam.”
She took the little girl’s right hand. “Help me show Henry to his room.”