3/24/12
"So while you'll be staying, I want you and Mr. Lutz to take full advantage of the house's amenities. The house is fully furninsh and staffed- a maid, chef, personal assistant. The studio wants you to be comfortable for the next three weeks of your life, alright Mr. Pattinson?"
"Yeah, sure, thank you," he said into the receiver of the house phone tucked between his head and shoulder, scrolling idilly through his email on his iphone in his lap.
"Great. The car will be there at eight am tomorrow morning. It will be fantastic to get this project started."
"Definitely. I appreciate the accomodations, Mr. Kelson."
"You're very welcome. I'll talk to you tomorrow, Mr. Pattinson, have a good afternoon."
"Yes, thank you, you too." He pulled the receiver from his shoulder and looked at it with a disdained expression, barely restraining himself from sticking out his tongue at it before replacing it in it's cradle. Who uses corded phone land lines anymore anyway? Settling with rolling his eyes, he stood up and stretched, then slid his phone into his pocket. As he made his way to the bathroom, the most amazing scent caught his attention. His stomach growled in response, since he'd not eaten since the airport six hours ago. Must be the chef at work. Sending up a thank you to the ceiling, he made his way to the bathroom, all sepia walls and marble flooring and countertops, and stood in front of one of the two separate vanities. He studied his reflection quickly, taking in his disheveled brown hair, tired blue-gray eyes and two day old scruff on his chin and jawline. His green faded tee could probably use a change, but who was he trying to impress? His jeans were his favorite, comfortable and worn in. He turned on the faucet and splashed water on his face, then shook it dry. He exited the bathroom and padded in his bare feet down the grand curving staircase to the first floor, and followed his nose to the kitchen. As he rounded the corner, he stopped dead in his tracks at the scene in front of him. Expecting to see the traditional guy in a chef's hat and jacket in front of the stove, he was confronted with an entirely different situation. He immediately stepped back, behind the wall, and peeked around.
His eyes swept over the only person in the kitchen. A female, standing in the fridge, reaching up for something on her tip toes. He couldn't quite make out her facial features clearly with the contrast of the bright light in the fridge and dim lights of the kitchen, but her long curly cinnamon colored hair was touching the small of her back. Her breasts, fully covered to his disappointment- in a purple turtleneck with no sleeves, were well placed. Her flat stomach and small waist, down to her tight ass and slim legs. Her blue skinny jeans and black ballet flats complimented her curvy figure, but didn't add any height, which she needed at the moment. It had to be her cooking. Why else would this strange female be digging in his fridge? Taking a deep breath, he crossed the room to her.
"Here, let me help," he said quietly, trying not to startle her. She looked at him over her right shoulder, flashed him a quick friendly smile, sank back down to her heels and took a step back, giving him room. "What did you need?"
"The fresh thyme, up on the top shelf please," she said. He noticed her thick Southern accent, flashed her a crooked smile, and looked into the fridge on the top shelf. There was a variety of fresh herbs up there, and he silently thanked his mom for letting him watch her cook when he was growing up, so he knew what the thyme looked like, and he didn't look like a complete dumbass. He pulled it down, turned and handed it to her, then made his way to a set of two stools on the other side of the island with the sink, not on the side by the stove. As he sat, he flinched, remembering his now incorrect thoughts about not having to impress anyone as he watched her rinse the herbs. Her able hands ran over the plant, very sure of their actions.
"Thank you for your help," she said, glancing up at him from the sink through her lashes. His eyes raised up her arms to her face.
"You're welcome. My name is Rob," he said, extending a hand. She took it.
"Gracie Jo," she said with a smile. He watched her turn back to the sink, and began drying the herbs with a towel. He took the minute to get a good look at her face. Heart shaped, well groomed arching eyebrows, long thick lashes over- were her eyes blue? Maybe. Some kind of light color. Her skin looked like soft peaches and cream over high cheek bones, her nose was small and straight, and her full balanced lips were a healty natural pink. Her face looked clean of any makeup, but maybe a little mascara. She was a natural beauty. He bet if she had makeup on, she'd be like a sex doll. He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to picture her in some kind of red teddy.
"Aw, poor thing, I'll have your food plated in two minutes, so you can go lay down. You look exhausted," she said to him, and he snapped his eyes open, the mental picture vanishing in a poof of smoke. She must have thought he'd fallen asleep.
"Oh, no worries," he said with a smile and a shake of his head. With a nod, she spun around and began serving his food. He took the oppertunity to check out her back side. She definitely had the hourglass shape going on. "So you're the chef, then?" He asked.
"Yes, and the maid," she said. She turned a moment later, and set a plate of food in front of him with a shy smile.
"I smell food!"
Rob cringed, then smiled. Like him, Kellan obviously didn't know the chef was a female. He looked over his left shoulder towards the sound of heavy footsteps, and watched Kellan freeze as his eyes took in the setting. He slowly made the rest of his way to the other stool and sat down.
"Hello, I'm sorry about my rudeness, I'm Kellan." Kellan told her with an apologetic smile, holding his hand out to shake.
"It's quite alright, it's comforting to know someone's enthusiastic about eating. Gracie Jo." She shook his hand quickly, then turned to Rob and added, "not that you're not." She flashed him a smile as she set a plate of food in front of Kellan. "Stuffed turkey breast with a grilled peach salad. When you're finished, if you could please leave your plates in the sink, I'll get them in a while. My servant's quarters are downstairs, but there's an intercom in most every room, give me a buzz if you'd like somethin'. Welcome to Atlanta, Georgia." She turned, then winked at them over her shoulder, and disappeared up the steps to their left.
Rob looked down at his still untouched food.
"This smells amazing," Kellan said, taking his first bite. "Mmmm. It's hard to beat Southern food made by a true Southern Belle. She's totally hot, by the way."
Rob wasn't quite sure what to make of the last ten minutes, so he only nodded in agreement to Kellan's opinion, and began to eat.
Chapter Two