Hardship & Devotion

While contemplating on what she was going to do for the day, there was a sudden knock on the door, followed by the unwelcome ring of the doorbell. It frightened her to the point where she jumped, throwing the jasmine scented bubbles into her right eye. Fuming and with her eye on fire, she somehow managed to get into her bathrobe and stomp her way down the stairs. Who the hell could be knocking on her door? she thought furiously. No one knew her location—no one knew her for that matter. Cara peered out the side window closest to the front door, revealing a really old baby-blue pickup truck that looked like it’d seen better days. The side of the truck had a dent the size of the front of her car, the paint was chipping, and there was a crack in the windshield that went across its width. With disbelief that anyone would drive such a vehicle, she began eying the contents in its truck bed. Among the jumbled mess, she saw a ladder and other miscellaneous tools that she had no idea of their official names or what they’d be used for, but it looked like stuff one would use for construction. It reminded her that she’d forgotten to call the number the old man had given her. She thought about ignoring it, knowing whoever it was would eventually go away, but curiosity got the best of her. She wanted to know who the person was that would drive behind the wheel of such an old beat-up pickup truck and the reason behind them knocking on her door. * * * Irritated that he’d made the long drive for nothing, David started making his way back to the truck when he’d heard the door to the cabin opening. When he turned around to face the person at the door, his breath caught and his heart sank. Standing in the doorway was the most gorgeous woman he’d ever before seen. When his uncle had mentioned she was pretty, he hadn’t thought much about it, but now that he stood staring at her—“pretty” didn’t do the woman justice. She was clothed in a pink bathrobe—one he assumed was made out of some fancy silk—and though it covered her, it couldn’t hide the curves of her hourglass figure. Her dark brown hair was pulled up loosely, with escaping strands framing her face. Some of the ends were damp and she had a few stray bubbles on the top of her head; telling him he’d caught her while she’d been taking a bath. The thought of her naked and wet was almost too much for him. He trained his eyes to her face—which did little to help—by God the woman’s an angel. She had flawless porcelain white skin that he could only imagine would be wonderfully soft under his callused touch. The only color was the light blushing on her cheeks, showing the afterglow that the heat of her bath had left. Her nose was slightly upturned, her lips sculpted perfectly with the lower being deliciously fuller. He found himself wondering how such perfect lips would feel against his. He could only imagine taking her lower lip between his teeth and biting ever so gently. Then he saw, really saw, the light blue gems that were her eyes. It was her eyes that had him at loss for words. They were large and round, but not to the point where they dwarfed her face and they were the lightest brightest blue he’d ever seen. Dark eyelashes, so long he wondered if they were real, encircled them, making the blue stand out brilliantly. Her gaze grabbed a hold of him, as if she could see right through him—to his very soul. They were the kind of eyes any man could envision waking up to every morning for the rest of his life. What was going on? NO! She’s just another pretty face. Pull it together, man! he scolded himself. Though even as he scolded, his eyes began to wonder over her body again, and all was forgotten. He wanted to remove the soft silk from her body, he wanted to feel the softness of her flawless flesh under his touch, and he wanted to taste every inch of her; devouring those voluptuous lips too perfect to be fair. “Umm . . . can I help you with something?” The sweet sound of her voice was just as intoxicating as her looks. It was seeing her discomfort that made him snap out of it. He’d been caught staring and while he’d thought he’d seen the same lust-filled look that could only mean she was just as in wonder of him as he was for her; it was her discomfort that had him questioning if he’d seen it at all. David went to answer, but his throat was dry, and he had to clear it for fear that the words would come out sounding as if he’d gone back in time to his puberty years. He refused to embarrass himself in front of such a stunning creature. David could be accused of many things, but embarrassing him in a woman’s presence was not one of them. He had a reputation to uphold. More confident in his ability to speak, he finally answered, saying, “Sorry, miss, I didn’t mean to interrupt,”—he gestured toward her robe, which only made her clasp the top of it closed tightly in her fist—“My uncle owns the hardware store in town and said there was some work that needed to be done around here. I hadn’t heard from you, so I thought I’d stop in and see if you still needed the help,” he finished, fighting to control where his eyes lingered. He waited for her response and noticed her relax slightly. He watched as those big bright blue eyes moved up and down his body, unable to hide her appreciation at what they saw. Seeing her check him out made David feel elated, boosting his ego up several notches. She likes what she sees, he thought, fighting the smirk that threatened to surface. * * * Cara stood staring at the man before her—the man the old beat-up truck belonged to. When he’d first taken notice of her, he’d eyed her in way she’d never been eyed before, making her feel slightly uncomfortable. She’d only ever been with Will and he’d never looked at her like that—with such desire and appreciation—it unnerved her in a way she didn’t quite understand. As she let herself look him over—really taking in his appearance—her insides swirled in a way she’d never felt before. Attraction! She felt pure, raw attraction for this man, a stranger, but the sexiest stranger she’d ever seen. Sure, she had noticed how good looking he was when she’d first opened the door, but now that she studied him more, “good looking” didn’t even begin to describe his looks. No, the man that stood before her was remarkably handsome, a god clothed in that of a mortal. He was the true definition of what a man should look like—with deep cheekbones, square jaw, perfect height, with a strong build—one that could only begin to tell of the muscle that lied beneath his clothes.