Hotter Horizons (2 page)

The air had cooled, the days now longer. Fern
directed her gaze toward her surroundings. The Jake Brake of the train hissed
and squeaked.

We’re
stopping.

It looked to be a lumberyard. Stacks of wood sat on
pallets, lining the edges of a large, fenced-in area. This was it. She’d have
to get off here. She looked down at the feedbags, unsure if they were being
unloaded. The train whined one last time before coming to a complete halt.

Several workers moved about the yard, loading planks
of lumber onto carts. Fern looked both ways and hopped out, darting up the
track, looking for an opening beyond the fenced-in yard.

The sweet smell of sap and sawdust swirled around
her as she eased into a jog. A shrilling whistle rang in her ears. Her chest
tightened with alarm.

“Hey, you!” a gruff voice called out to her. Fern
felt her body go stiff. She broke into a sprint, her breaths heaving. He yelled
to her again, but Fern kept going, not daring to look back.

As the brush and tree line grew thinner, she
downshifted
her efforts into a slow, steady jog. Her eyes
locked in on a small convenience store. Her legs burned with exertion. Fern
ducked into the weeds. Thickets and thorns scraped over her skin, stinging her
flesh.

“Shit,” she gasped. Fern directed her steps and
headed right to the side of the building, the restroom sign welcoming her.

Chapter
Three

Fern ran cool water over the thin lines that trailed
across her forearm. After patting her skin dry and a much-needed visit inside
the stall, she gathered her composure and entered the store.

Cars pulled in and out for gas. Fern made her way to
the rear of the small store and got two bottles of water and a package of trail
mix as well as a coffee.

She stood in line with what looked to be people
stopping in on their way home from work, picking up some last-minute things for
dinner. A display of sandwiches had her stomach waking up with the dull burn of
hunger. The woman behind the counter intercepted her gaze.

“Those are nice and fresh, just made them.” Her smile
was warm. Fern pointed to the roast beef and cheese, grabbing a small package
of pretzels off the nearby rack. The woman handed her the sandwich wrapped in
butcher’s paper. While checking out, Fern asked her if there were any hotels in
the area.

“Well.” The woman turned, glancing out the front
window. “We have a small motor inn about a half mile down. Go out of the
parking lot and make a right. Fields Grove Motor Inn, you can’t miss it,” she
said, handing Fern her change.

Fern thanked her and headed out. As she passed
through the vestibule, she picked up a local community flyer out of the “for
free” bin.

Fern ate her trail mix as she walked down County
Route 4, saving her sandwich for later. She’d landed in what appeared to be the
small, quaint town of Fields Grove, New Jersey.

The town had a nice hub, all the necessities you
needed accented with quaint shops and a small café. As she passed the post
office and what Fern knew was a seedy pub just by looking at the battered
shingles and peeling paint of the Gray Wolf Tavern, the roadside sign for the
Fields Grove Motor Inn came into view.

A row of white buildings with red trim sat behind a
large parking area. Fern aligned her steps with the lit-up “Vacancy” sign.
Opening the door that sounded a tinkling bell, Fern rested her hands on the
aged, Formica counter.

A TV blared from behind another door behind the
counter, masking the bickering whines of children. Fern removed her money,
concealing it behind the counter. In what seemed like a cashless society these
days, the roll of cash Jada had given her could raise suspicion.

An older woman’s voice jarred her. “Can I help you?”
Her weathered, blue eyes clung to Fern’s. A red bandana pulled across her head,
covering rows of pink rollers.

People
still wear rollers?

“I’d like a room, but I’m just not sure how long I’ll
be here,” Fern said, struggling for a courageous tone. It was an older
establishment, not as polished as the Estonian back home.

“I got a special … one-fifty for the week.” Her
rough tone scraped over Fern. The screams from behind the door amplified. The
woman turned, yanking the door open. “Excuse me.” She shot Fern a hard glance
over her shoulder. The woman stepped into the threshold, closing the door,
concealing herself, her tone seething.

While she reprimanded what sounded like an unruly
group of kids, Fern laid her money out on the counter. Her abrasive voice had
Fern meeting her frustrated expression. “I’m sorry, Ms.” She shook her head and
took Fern’s cash. She turned and removed a key from a pegboard that hung on the
wall. “Here you are.” She was seemingly trying to smooth away her impatience
with a smile. “Let us know if you need anything. Ice machine is outside at the
end of the building.

“Thank you.” Fern nodded.

****

Enclosed in a paneled room and lying on a
dank-smelling chintz bedspread, Fern leafed through the local bulletin. She’d
eaten all the food she bought and was now looking for a job, unsure of what the
small town had to offer.
No more bars or
nightclubs!

Her phone chimed, and she saw a text from Jada.

Are u
okay? I’m at work, but let me know u r safe.

Fern texted her back, telling Jada sarcastically
that she’d landed in Kansas. Jada then sent a photo of the Blue Collar Comedy
men that were performing that night.

Glancing down at the paper once more, an ad caught
her eye.

Housekeeper
needed for two busy young professionals.

Live-in
preferred—details to be discussed at interview.

Fern reached for a pen in her satchel and copied
down the number. It was late. She’d call tomorrow. A job with board included.
Sounded like a no-brainer. It all depended on those details. She’d have to wait
to learn more, if she landed the interview, hoping things got that far.

Two
young professionals.
The
scenarios ran through her mind. Businessmen who traveled maybe?
Do these guys want someone who can cook?
She wasn’t overly clever in the kitchen.

Fern got up and padded into the bathroom. After she
brushed her teeth, she slipped between the musty-smelling sheets, her nose
twitching. The idea of smelling these sheets for a week was unsettling. She’d
just have to make that call tomorrow and take the rest as it came.

Chapter
Four

He’d only placed the ad three days ago, and they had
a call already. Levi raced around the kitchen and living room, tidying up. Alec
had just left for work. With Alec’s crazy schedule and Levi’s demanding
clients, there just wasn’t enough time to get the basic housekeeping done, not
to mention the laundry that was often piled four feet high.

Being a headhunter in today’s economy was rough.
Levi often felt like road-kill, being pecked to death by clients who hadn’t
worked in months, desperate for Levi to find them that dream job.

Alec worked at the Red Rooster, the only prestigious
restaurant in Fields Grove. His schedule often flip-flopped between the lunch
and dinner hours. Alec was a valet, parking cars for the more affluent
population of their community. Now, with the adjoining golf course open, this
was Alec’s busiest time of year.

He hoped, if this girl worked out, that they’d be
able to take a trip without worrying that no one was home minding the house. It
wasn’t that they resided in a high-crime area, but they’d both worked hard for
what they had, and Levi wasn’t taking any chances.

Levi did a sweep underneath the sofa, catching the
small bottle of lube in his hand. He smiled, recalling taking Alec over the arm
of the sofa two days before. Levi’s cock thickened behind his jeans. That’s all
it took. One thought or graphic, mental visual of Alec made his body hum with a
thrill that never dulled.

It’d been a glorious two years with Alec. Buying the
house was a bold move for them both, but Levi knew they were secure. They loved
each other and were both committed.

Though their preferences went both ways, which was
why he and Alec were a perfect fit, the string of women Alec could usually
round up had slowed. They hadn’t enjoyed the soft, warm flesh of a female in
months.

Alec blamed it on the clientele of the restaurant,
that being where he made most of his connections. “They all seem so snobby
lately, not the type to engage in any consensual fun with two
bi
guys,” he’d say.

A light knock on the door had Levi freezing in the
middle of the living room. He looked at the small bottle of KY in his hand and
jammed it deep into his pocket, then went to let in his first interviewee.

His eyes fixated on the back of her head through the
small window in the door. Tousled, layered strands of dark-brown hair blew
against the nape of her neck. Levi could hear the wind chimes sounding in the
breeze. When his hand turned the knob, so did she. Warm hazel eyes latched onto
his, the color unique. Flecks of brown and gold swam through her irises. Her
thin but shapely lips curled into an easy smile, glossy with a natural pinkish
hue.

Holy
fuck!

Levi returned her smile, opening the door, his
stomach flipping instantly with excitement. Her low, smoky voice filled the air
between them, sounding unsure.

“My name is Fern
Carone
.
I’m here to apply for the housekeeping position.” Her fingers clenched the strap
of a rather large purse.

“Yes,” Levi breathed, stepping back. “I’m Levi
Peridi
. My roommate, Alec, is at work. Please come in.
Fern, what
an
usual name.” His words were a bit
rushed. This girl had him as nervous as a juvenile.

“My real name is Frances,” she
said
 
her
cheeks flushing. “It’s just
that everyone calls me Fern, though it makes me feel frumpy,” she said,
laughing as her eyes changed shape with her smile.

“Let me guess.” Levi laughed.
“
Charlotte’s Web
?”

“Yeah, it’s a tough analogy to escape.”
 
Fern chuckled.
 
 

Levi waved her in, closing the door behind her. His
eyes quickly slid down the curvy profile of her body.
Jesus, help me!

“I like both,” Levi told her, wanting to ease her
reservations. He directed her into the kitchen. “Can I get you coffee?”

“I’d like that, very much.” She nodded. Her eyes
darkened once inside the confines of the house.

I’m
liking
you
…
very much!

Levi got her settled in behind the narrow island and
turned to retrieve their mugs, struggling to conceal his elation.

****

The house was small, yet inviting, holding a charm
that could catapult one back into a different time. Fern guessed it was about a
hundred years old, the outside a weathered red brick.

The inside had been cleverly designed with a mid-western
feel. Soft, neutral tones were the backdrop to accents done in bold reds and
oranges, with a vibrant teal green that tied it all together like the knitted
threads of a Mexican blanket.

“Sit … please.” Levi pulled out a stool.

Fern took in the cabinetry in a light honey, the
walls a maize-yellow, as Levi fixed their coffee. The island was small, only
meant to accommodate two for a quick meal. The Pergo floor gleamed with a high
sheen. They had an extensive collection of
Fiestaware
in a variety of bold colors that accented the kitchen perfectly. Soft classical
music was being piped in from somewhere.

Fern’s eyes wandered over to Levi as he worked at
the counter. He was tall, his shoulders broad. Long legs encased in faded denim
took her gaze right down to his bare feet. A white button-down shirt, its tails
untucked
, added to his casualness. The
Keurig
machine hummed, filling the silence that stretched.

Fern set her satchel on the floor. Levi turned,
holding two steaming mugs, sliding one toward her. His eyes were a rich brown,
mirroring everything around them. He smiled, his angled jaw dusted with a dark
growth that wasn’t unkempt, but classy.

“Thank you,” Fern said, lifting the bright-pink mug
to her lips. His gaze joined hers over the rim of his mug. Fern shifted in her
seat. A wave of uneasiness moved through her. She shrugged it off. The thought
of not getting this job had Johnny’s irate face haunting her mind’s eye. Fern
sat up, setting her mug down. Levi placed his mug next to hers.

“So.”
He
lifted a shoulder. “Let me tell you what we’re looking for. I’ve never done
this before, so please bear with me,” he said. He dug a few fingers into the
short, dark strands of his hair, smiling. His teeth caught his lower lip, which
had Fern mentally running for cover
. This
guy could stoke a fire without a match.