Distracted by Madeline Sloane Page A

white
clapboard house with dark green shutters. In the distance, Spence
spied a red barn bearing a large painted star. Chickens bobbed and
weaved in the July heat, separated from the driveway by a wire
fence. A couple of barn cats, fat and luxuriant, were perched
outside the fence, focused on the jerky movements of the plump
hens.
    A brown painted fence stretched from the barn and
into the woods on the far hill. Cattle dotted the hillside and in a
separate, smaller pasture Spence saw white spots.
    “Those are sheep,” Erin said with an incline of her
head. “I told you I was a farm girl. Come on, my sister and her
husband are waiting to meet you.”
    Erin caught Spence’s hand and pulled him towards the
house as the front porch opened. A tall woman, a slightly faded
version of Erin with a few extra pounds on her hips, stepped out
and arms open.
    Erin dropped Spence’s hand and rushed up the steps,
sweeping her sister into a bear hug.
    “I’m so glad to see you honey,” Mariah said, her
cheek pressed against her younger sister’s golden hair. She looked
beyond Erin’s shoulder and into Spence’s eyes. Her warm smile and
green eyes were welcoming. He saw her lips move against Erin’s ear
but didn’t hear her speak, “Oh my, he’s gorgeous. I want your
job.”
     
    * * *
     
    “Mr. Spence, this is your room for tonight,” Mariah
said, pushing on the door. “My husband, Jerry, hasn’t had a chance
yet to air out the cabin. It’s been closed up all winter.”
    White walls painted many years ago had faded to
cream. The queen-size bed bore a handcrafted quilt, washed so often
its flowers were pastel. A narrow window reached from the floor to
the ceiling.
    Erin walked over to the window and slid open the
curtains, admiring the view, pastoral and green. “I’ve always loved
this room,” she said.
    Spence moved behind her, slid his arms around her,
enveloping her body. He pushed his chin against the back of her
neck, his lips caressing her hair. Erin instinctively leaned into
his embrace.
    Mariah’s eyes widened as she watched the couple,
already oblivious to her. She backed to the bedroom door and
slipped out, closing it quietly behind her. She suspected from the
moment she saw her sister’s face, her “client” was much more than
that. Their embrace only confirmed it.
    She went down the stairs and into the farmhouse
kitchen. Warm, cozy and filled with century-old wood cabinetry, the
kitchen was Mariah’s retreat. Dried herbs and flowers hung upside
down from the large wooden beams, usually a copper kettle kept
water warm for her multiple cups of tea. Marsh, the family’s dog,
snored under the spacious oak dining table.
    Jerry came in, stamping the mud onto the wooden grate
by the back door. He sat down on the nearby parson’s bench, bent
over and began unlacing the work boots. He pulled them off and
reached under the bench for his leather mocs.
    “Are they settled in? Did you take them up to their
rooms?”
    Mariah smiled impishly, raised her dreamy eyes from a
cup of tea. “Room.”
    Jerry’s eyebrows shot up.
    Mariah chuckled. “Well; she’s allowed.”
    “Hey,” he said, his hands defensively in the air. “I
say ‘Go for it.’ What’s he like? Bookworm?”
    “Not exactly,” Mariah said, arching her eyebrows
suggestively.
     
    Upstairs, Erin held her breath until her chest hurt
and sanity returned. She tried to pull away, but the window blocked
her escape to the front and Spence’s chest, warm and intoxicating
against her bare shoulders, eliminated that route. She stepped to
the right, but his arms tightened around her rib cage.
    “Where are you going?” he said, his breath soft and
moist against her neck. His lips caressed her earlobe and she
shivered.
    “We agreed we wouldn’t do this here,” she said.
    “Don’t worry, She’s gone.”
    “That’s not the point. You know …”
    “I can’t stop, either,” he said, finishing her
sentence.
    Spence stepped back towards the bed