All-purpose flour would have to do since she couldn’t find coconut flour. She stirred in the rest of the ingredients. Fruit would make the muffins better. In the freezer, she grabbed a bag of blueberries. As she poured the batter into the six muffin tins, her sleeve accidentally dipped in the bowl. Oh well. She set her communicator timer for twenty minutes.
Separating strips of bacon and placing them in a big black pan, she turned the burner to medium, and flames appeared like magic. Had she wasted some of her powers? She checked her emblem. Mostly white with a narrow strip of pink. Darn.
For scrambled eggs, she cracked one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight eggs. With no milk in the fridge, she recalled seeing a can labeled milk in the pantry. Yes! She found evaporated milk on the top shelf. The pull-top fought her. Half of the can spilled on the countertop. The video said to add a couple drops for each egg, so the rest of the can should do. She whisked the eggs. A little got on the counter, more on her sweater. What did it matter? This was fun.
With the egg content poured into the pan, she recalled the virtual cook saying to gently turn the eggs every now and then with a spatula. Not sure how long ‘now and then’ was, she waited two minutes. The eggs thickened. The cook had suggested sprinkling in cheddar cheese. In the refrigerator drawer, she discovered a bag already shredded, took a handful and threw it on top. The cheese melted in seconds.
As she turned the bacon strips, grease sizzled. The prong didn’t grip right, and she dropped two slices on the floor. The floor looked clean, so she set them on a paper towel. The next few pieces cooperated with her prong.
She carefully arranged the bacon and eggs on plates she found above the sink.
The timer buzzed. She opened the oven to golden brown muffins and gripped the pan with her fingers. “Ouch.”
What could she use? A towel on the stove would have to do, and she quickly set the tin on the stovetop.
Her fingertips throbbed. Instinct told her to use ice, so she shoved her fingers deep into the ice bin in the freezer. The pain diminished.
The front door banged shut.
Show time.
~ ~ ~
Rhett washed up at the outside sink and headed into his house. A sweet baking aroma fueled his hunger.
Michael fiddled with his phone from his usual spot at the dining table.
Rhett sat across from him. “A storm’s supposed to pound the area tonight. Dad’s helping me patch the old barn’s roof. Think you could bring hay to the south pasture?”
“Gotta pass that field on my way into town. Mom’s insisting I pick up more balloons and streamers at Party Heaven. You wanna switch jobs?”
“No thanks.” Rhett would patch a roof in a lightning storm rather than step inside that stupid store.
Cami set plates in front of Rhett and his brother. An uneven line of egg yolk decorated the front of her sweater. A streak of flour powdered her right cheek. Uncertainty graced her wide eyes.
He tried the bacon. Crispier than he preferred, at least it wasn’t burnt. Her fluffy eggs were a bit runny and bland, so he salted and peppered them.
“Be right back.” She barreled into the other room, came in with a cloth-covered bowl, and put it on the table. “I’m not used to your, um, oven. Hope the muffins turned out.”
Rhett grabbed one and devoured it in one bite. “Scrumptious.”
She smiled at his compliment.
“Don’t hog ’em all.” Michael took two from the bowl and polished them off in seconds. “These are really good.” He snagged another.
“We’re not formal around her, Cami. Join us for breakfast.” Rhett motioned to the end chair.
“I’ve already eaten.”
“In that case, sit and we’ll figure out today’s duties,” Michael gave her a warm smile.
“Alright.” She kept her posture ramrod straight, her eyes on guard. There was something off about her. He couldn’t quite place it, he just knew. Her last job had been with a family. Working for a couple of bachelors must make her uneasy.
“We desperately need clean clothes. Start with the shirts, socks, and boxers by the washer.” Michael said quickly.
“Mind if I borrow this?” She snatched a pad of paper from the center of the table.
“Sure. You’re gonna need this,” Rhett handed her a pen. Their fingertips touched and created an electric shock at the contact.
“Michael, you said shirts, socks, and?”
“Boxers.”
Her cheeks heated as she wrote down the name for men’s underwear. “Got it. Anything else?”
“Throw in some jeans if you have time,” Michael said.
“For lunch, corn chowder, fried potatoes and ham sandwiches will do.” Rhett noticed her writing. She dotted her i’s with a heart. “Unless you have something else in mind.”
“I’ll have to see what ingredients you have in stock. If we’re done, I’ll get busy.” She pushed away from the table and dashed through the kitchen door.
“Skittish isn’t she?” Rhett whispered. “What’d you think of her cooking?”
“Eggs could be better, but those muffins. Yum.”
“Reckon I could’ve polished off a dozen by myself.” The sweet taste made Rhett’s mouth water even now. “I’m snagging another coffee before I head out. Want one?”
“That’s okay. I’d better deliver that hay.”
Rhett went into the kitchen and heard Cami from the laundry room. “What’s wrong with this thing?”
He stepped around the corner. She slammed the lid on the washing machine and twisted the knob. “Why won’t you work?” She twisted it around again.
“Push on the button in the center.” He leaned in and reached for the knob.
Startled, she backed into him, and he stopped her with his hands. A spark charged through his veins.
“Thought you heard me come in.”
“Do you need me for something?” She turned to face him.
“Just came in to get coffee. Need you to make another pot.”
“Could you show me how?” She gave a damsel-in distress-smile. “My ... um ... boss used a different device.”
“This one’s basic. It’s the same as the one in your apartment.”
“Haven’t used it. I drink tea.” She gave a flirty smile that undoubtedly worked to get her way.
“Live out here long enough and you’ll change.”
“I doubt that.” She blinked twice.
He’d swear he’d seen her before. “Bet you’re drinking coffee by the end of the month.”
“What’s my prize when I win?” She stepped close to his side.
Desire sizzled. “Hmm ... have to think on that.” He grabbed a coffee can on the counter. “Empty.” He threw it underneath the sink and snatched a can from the pantry.
She watched pensively.
“This is the last one. Better add coffee to this list.” He took a marker. “When you get low on anything, write it on the board. We’ll be sending you shopping later today.”
“Shopping?” She shifted back on her heels and sucked in a shallow breath. “I’m not familiar with the area.”
“This town’s easy to maneuver.” Might be fun to show her around when he had time. He pulled out the coffee basket. “Use three scoops. We like our coffee strong.”
“Cowboy coffee?” She eased closer.
“You guessed it.” As much as he like being near her, he had chores to do. “I’m up at the crack of dawn. If you promise to double the muffins, I’d be more than happy to make coffee in the morning. I’m not picky. Apple, banana, cinnamon will be fine.”
“You’ve got yourself a deal.”
They shook on it, and a buzz shivered up his arm.
Chapter Six
The human’s attention strained every magical sparkle inside Cami. Quit thinking about Rhett and find him a soulmate.
She glanced at the clock. Two hours had passed, and it was already eight. Dishes from breakfast filled the sink. She said into
her communicator, “Dish washing.”
“I have found twenty dishwasher photos,” a virtual voice answered.
Did this place have a dishwasher? The silver panel on the Whirlpool near the sink matched one of the pictures.
“How to use a Whirlpool dishwasher?” she asked.
“Would you like to connect with the first video?”
“Yes. Play in flash mode.” A six-inch virtual man in a navy jumpsuit appeared. “Rinse off the dishes and place them inside the machine.”
It seemed odd to rinse dishes when the machine did the cleaning. She paused the video. Since the sponge in the sink smelled like rotten pomegranates, she tossed it in the trash and got a new one from underneath the sink. Rinsing plates with hot water, she opened the appliance’s door and set plates on the bottom rack. Glasses and coffee cups on the top.
The bacon pan had a thick layer of grease. Not sure what to do with the mess, she poured it down the drain. Eggs had coated the bottom of the other pan. She scrubbed it and placed it on the bottom rack.
“Play.” The video man said to add soap. A bottle of Dawn dish soap was on the sink. Perfect. She added liquid soap into the dispenser, flipped it shut, closed the door, listened to the video, and started the dishwasher as instructed.
Done.
Better check on the laundry.
The washer’s cycle finished, and she grabbed the bundle of whites with her right hand and flipped open the dryer front. With the washed items inside, she turned the knob to dry and pushed a button. The machine chugged.
A grandfather clocked chimed eleven times. Lunch in an hour.
Rhett suggested corn chowder. With potatoes, carrots, and onions on the counter, she opted for potato soup. She’d never actually made it before, but how hard could it be? Her communicator said to half fill a large stainless-steel pot with water and set it on the burner. Without magic to peel the potato skin, she opted to leave it on. She washed and cut ten potatoes and ten carrots with a sharp knife. Tears filled her eyes as she chopped onions. She sliced her thumb. “Ow.” Holding her hand under the faucet, the water washed away the blood, but her thumb hurt. Already, she’d burned her fingertips, now sliced her thumb.
The clock chimed once. She pressed a paper towel to her cut and scooped the onions into the pot with the other hand. While the soup cooked, she added salt and a pinch of cinnamon.
Carefully removing the paper towel and checking her cut, she thanked the gods it stopped bleeding.
Ham sandwiches better not be difficult. According to her communicator, the requirements were bread, cheese, lettuce, tomato, ham, and mayonnaise. The fridge had everything except ham. Roast beef should do. She slathered four slices of bread with mayonnaise, layered the lunchmeat, cheese, lettuce, and tomatoes and set the sandwiches aside.
Her sweater stained with egg, batter, and now mayonnaise. With fifteen minutes to spare, she had enough time to sprint to her apartment and change.
She took a step. Bubbles covered the floor. Automatically she flicked her fingertips. No sparkling flitters or swirls appeared or magical dust, while the foam multiplied.
Rhett and Michael were due back. Holy Zeus, if she got fired on her first day, she’d be doomed.
Think. What to do? Get towels.
She sprinted toward the laundry room and slid. “NOOOOOO!” Airborne she instinctively tried to flap her wings. Momentum pushed her forward. She landed on her knees with a thud and skidded across the floor into the refrigerator. “Ouch!”
“You okay, Cami?” Michael waddled his way through bubbles and kneeled next to her.
“Do I look okay?” She didn’t belong on Earth, didn’t know what to do, didn’t like being helpless.
“Let me rephrase that, are you hurt?” He offered his hand.
She stood, struggling to stay upright in the sudsy mess. “Besides demolishing my dignity, I’ll survive.” If only she could hide underneath a mound of bubbles.
“Where are all these bubbles coming from?”
“I believe the dishwasher decided to spit them out.” This wouldn’t be an issue if her magic worked.
He switched off the machine and held up the bottle on the counter.” You didn’t use dish soap in it, did you?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” He acted like she couldn’t read.
“We keep the right stuff underneath the sink.” He seized a yellow bottle labeled dishwasher detergent.
“Oh. I didn’t know.”
“You’ve never been a housekeeper before?” His mouth twisted into a smile.
“Why would you say that?” She batted her eyelashes.
“Because we’re taking a bubble bath in the kitchen. Grab towels from the laundry room, and we’ll sop up the suds.”
They hurried, each carrying armloads of towels, and wiped the floor until all the bubbles were gone.
“That was crazy.” He chuckled. “I’ll put in a load of towels. Go ahead and set lunch in the dining room. Rhett was a little skeptical about hiring you. Let’s not tell him about this mishap, yet.”
Mishap. She hated that word. Snagging the sandwiches out of the fridge, she went through the swinging door and placed them on the table. Back at the stove, she ladled soup into two bowls, grabbed spoons, and put them next to the plates.
Rhett walked in and sat down. “Smells delicious. What’d you make?”
“Um.” Her pulse sped fast, making it hard to think. “Potato soup.”
“What happened to your pants?” He eyed her jeans. Water soaked the hem and splattered along her knees.
“Spilled some um ... dishwater.”
“I’d like milk with this.” He started to rise.
She planted her hand on his shoulder, his immense muscular shoulder. Awareness jolted through her. “You’re all out.”
“Water will do. Any idea what’s keeping Michael?”
She shrugged. “I’ll be right back.” Once through the door, she let out a sigh. What was she supposed to get? Water. Snagging two bottles from the pantry, she entered the room. Michael sat across from Rhett.
“Hey.” Michael nodded to his brother while ignoring her.
“Great soup,” Rhett said.
“Glad it turned out okay. I don’t quite have the kitchen appliances down.”
Michael winked at her. So what if he knew she was an inexperienced housekeeper. Thanks to him, she made it through her bubble dilemma unscathed. “Sandwiches aren’t bad either.”
Rhett scraped his spoon at the bottom of his bowl. “Are there seconds?”
“Yes.” She zipped into the kitchen and ladled the soup, half expecting to see bubbles.
She set a steaming bowl in front of him.
“You’ve done alright so far.” The corners of Rhett’s mouth quivered upward. Not quite a smile, but close.
“I’m trying.”
“We need groceries. Think you could take Cami into town this afternoon?” Rhett asked Michael. “In her last job, the supplies were delivered.”
“You don’t say.” Michael actually smirked. “Meet me by my silver truck at three, and I’ll be more than happy to take you.”
She was sure he’d be grilling her as they traveled, but she didn’t care. As nice as he’d been so far, he would make a great ally.
~ ~ ~
Cami waited by the truck shivering, even though she wore a puffy pink jacket. She stared at the patches of snow covering the ground. Cupid’s Corner never had snow, the town never got colder than fifty.
As she waited for Michael, she thought up questions he might ask her. Why was she faking her experience? Easy. She loved horses. Preferred unicorns but would keep that to herself.
“Hey.” Rhett’s voice made her jump. “Michael couldn’t make it, so we’re taking my truck.”
“Okay.” But it wasn’t okay. The handsome human unsettled her. Now she’d be alone in a confined space with him.
“Truck’s nothing fancy but does the job.” She followed him to the blue truck on her right. The door squeaked
as he opened it for her. “Allow me.” He offered a calloused hand to assist her. His touch caused a zing to shimmy up her arm.
She carefully lowered herself into the seat. Chariots were easier. All you had to do was step inside and hold onto the bar.
He shut the door and got in on his side. “Buckle up.” Reaching for a strap near the roof, he stretched it across his torso and clicked a metal end into a square thing. She copied his actions. Her strap went out an inch and stopped. She tugged. It wouldn't budge.
“That belt sometimes sticks. Let go of it and try yanking hard.”
Following his instructions, she managed to click the metal into place.
He inserted a key like the ones she’d seen in the television shows she’d watched. The engine roared. A song about a man demanding his girlfriend bring him a beer made her giggle.
“Not a Luke Bryan fan?” The car lurched forward, and he drove.
“Who’s he?”
“You really don’t know?” This time he gave her a broad smile, his white teeth contrasting his tanned complexion.
The dirt road bumped and jostled the truck as they passed a red barn and took a fork to the right. “The grocery store’s not far. Pretty much a straight shot. You won’t get lost when I send you out.”
“You expect me to drive?” She’d never even maneuvered a chariot.
“Is that a problem?”
“Yes.” Better to say something now.
“Let me guess? You don’t have a license.”
“A license for what?”
“To drive.” He blew air onto his upper lip.
“Of course. Guess I’m a little tired.”
“Fresh air here can do that to folks.” He stopped at the gate by the Lazy H Ranch sign and got out.
She stared at his backside, tingles rippled through her body. He pivoted to come back, and she pretended to check out her chipped fingernail polish.
They turned left and passed the Stone Meadow Ranch, Clearview Farm, and various homes and barns and open space.
“You’re from Heavenly Valley. I’ve stayed at the lodge on Pioneer Street. Had a blast.” He glanced over at her. “Great place. Close to the slopes. You snowboard or ski?”
“Neither.” She’d seen snowboarding contests on television. It seemed dangerously thrilling. “I prefer warmer activities.”
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