Cecilia woke up in a strange place. She inhaled the now familiar fabric softener scent from the pillow her face was buried in.
'That's right,' she thought to herself as she stretched like a cat enjoying the silky feel of the sheets against her bare body. 'I successfully invaded.'
Looking around, she found herself in bed alone. The sun was bright outside as evidenced by the strong glow at the edges of the curtains. She looked for her clothes where she had left them scattered across the floor, but they were gone. Sitting up, she saw them folded neatly atop a vanity.
She chuckled to herself, 'What man owns a vanity?'
After being pleasantly surprised to find to clothes freshly laundered, she stepped into her underwear and ran for the master bath. After addressing her more urgent needs she looked at herself in the mirror. Her state was worse than she imagined, blonde hair was somehow tangled and flying at once. Digging in a draw she located a hair brush and attempted to restore order. With her hair somewhat under control she went to take one of his shirts from the closet.
"What the fuck?" she cursed upon seeing the closet contents.
Standing in the closet, she looked around and half the space was dedicated to women's clothes. She took a particularly cute sun dress and held it up for inspection. It was a size two, perfect for her. She put it back and checked several other items. All of the clothes were in her size, so it was unlikely they were there to accommodate a crossdressing fetish for Martin (which would have been a preferable conclusion than the idea she was in another woman's house, sleeping with another woman's man, thus making him unavailable for her to have). She noted a foot of empty hanger space, the likely home of the cold weather gear Martin have given her.
Shoes lined the floor, she loved shoes and these were nice. Discovering they were all in size 6, a size and half too small for her feet, she pouted, cursing her feet for being too big for this adorable collection.
Suddenly the vanity in the bedroom made a little sense. Turning to his clothes she took one of his soft flannel button-ups.
Martin had some explaining to do.
Wearing only the flannel she went in search of the man of the house bare legged. As the scent of bacon drew her along the hall, she passed a wedding photo on the wall.
Lurching to a stop so sudden she had to reel her arms for balance, she went back for a second take. Wedding photo?
It was Martin and a young, pretty brunette. A very pretty brunette. Irritated malice toward the woman grew in her. She saw that Martin had been younger by a decade.
She finally looked at the other pictures scattered around the house. The happy married couple on vacation in Hawaii, another skiing, one hiking at the Grand Canyon and so on.
Cecilia was jealous. Insanely jealous. She felt a horrible, hideous twist in her gut and a possessive anger, but Martin cheating on an amazingly beautiful wife with her did not fit and she knew she was missing a critical piece of information. At the end of her quest to find the source of the bacon smell she found a kitchen and Martin. She wanted to ask about the woman in the photos, but feared what answers she might receive. Martin was hers now. She had conquered him.
"Good morning," Martin offered brightly, sitting a cup of coffee in front of her. "If I remember correctly, you take it black?"
"Yes." his good mood was killing her take-no-prisoners attitude.
"How do you like your eggs?"
"Over medium." She eyed him suspiciously. "Someone's chipper this morning."
She chalked his good mood up to the fact he had gotten laid last night. They both had. She would most likely be riding the same high he was, if not for her mother.
The floor went out from under her feet. Her mother was dead. Gone forever.
Then she found she was feeling guilty about not being more sad. The truth that had been eating her was that she was relieved that her mother's suffering was finally over. Should not she be overwhelmed with grief?
"Do you want toast, hash browns, potatoes, bacon, sausage? What do you like?"
She supposed he was making an effort to learn about her.
"Bacon always, potatoes never with breakfast, sometimes toast but not today. I like fruit. Do you have a banana or orange or something?"
Feeling overwhelmed, by the growing mountain of questions and doubt, she walked over and hugged him from the side. Was she a horrible person for being relieved her mother was with God now? Did Martin have another woman? Was she a married man's unwitting mistress? Is that why Martin refused to kiss her? She wanted to forget it all and pretend everything was normal and would turn out okay.
"Just hold me for a bit," she asked.
"Of course," he turned off the burner and turned to embrace her. "You okay?"
"I'll be fine in a minute."
She rested her head on his shoulder and squeezed him tight. All of the fucked up questions could wait until later. Why ruin what she had right this second.
"I was going to serve you breakfast in bed," he whispered, "you can go back to bed if you want and I'll feed you there."
"The table in here works, and I can operate my own fork you know. What's with you wanting to hand feed me?"
"I like the intimacy."
"It makes me feel helpless."
"And you can't ever allow yourself to feel helpless," he added.
She did not like to hear this startlingly correct evaluation of her character so she changed the subject. "So what's on the docket for today, Tin-Man."
Martin grimaced at her evasion. He was becoming used to her using it as a defense mechanism now. At some later date he was going to push her about it, but not today.
***
After breakfast they went about their day, going down to the cabin where she lay on a blanket by the lake in her bikini working on her notepad while Martin went about wading in the water with a tape measure.
After 15 minutes Cecilia's curiosity got the better of her so she asked, "What in the world are you doing?"
"I'm measuring for your boat dock."
"You're really going to build it?"
"Yeah. I thought you wanted one."
"I do."
She pondered the fact that a man who refused to kiss her and kept clothes and photos of another woman was building a dock only because she asked.
"Give me your shirt before it gets wet."
He shrugged it off his shoulders and tossed it to her.
Enjoying the view of his muscles, she held the shirt to her nose for a moment breathing in his unique musky scent.
"Your shorts are getting wet too," she added hopefully.
"They'll dry," he muttered. "Can you take a couple of notes for me?"
"Sure."
He rattled off a series of measurements that she dutifully wrote down.
Deciding she would like to sunbathe topless she reached back to untie her top.
Martin grunted. "Can you keep that on until I'm done working?"
"Really?"
"Yeah, it's hard enough to concentrate with you in that bikini. If it comes off my brain will shut down and I'll be a total disaster."
"Maybe I don't want your brain to work." she said in a seductive voice.
"I still need to chop some wood. I might cut off a foot."
"You could live with one foot."
"Yeah, but I wouldn't want to ruin my best work boots."
"Fair enough." She said her next words as though she was afraid of being rebuffed. "I'm not spending the night in the cabin anymore."
"That's good, what I hoped, but I wanted to stock up anyway so we could spend the night here together if we wanted."
"You want to play lost hiker with me again?" she asked with a hopeful tone. "Make me pay? Oh, I need pay you so hard baby."
He looked at her curiously for several seconds before saying, "Or maybe we could act out your fairy princess story. For accuracy of course."
