Billionaire Daddy and Nanny 1(133)

“I would invite you over to have dinner at my place. My wife makes an amazing casserole, but I doubt that she will be very happy to have any company at this time of night. I’ve done the next best thing and I brought you some leftovers. It’s a poached salmon dinner that was left over at the end of the night in the restaurant. I did heat it up, but you do have your own microwave and stove to use as you see fit.” I was wondering about the package that he had left on my table when he came in with a handful of wood.

I stood by the window watching the snow slap against the pane of glass. The wind was scratching branches making me feel like there was an intruder trying to get in. Lillian had really affected me on a level that I didn’t think was possible.

“I had a feeling that the restaurant was closed. I am famished. It was very kind of you to think of me in this way.” I rewarded him with a soft and delicate kiss on his cheek. He blushed and I could tell that the attention that I was giving him was more than his wife had done in quite some time. Couples get complacent, forget to say certain words and even relegate sex to special occasions and birthdays.

“I’m just doing my job. I like to make sure that all of my guests are comfortable. I pride myself on going the extra mile to make sure that everybody has what they need. I would offer some extracurricular contraband, but I don’t think that you indulge.” He was referring to Mary Jane and I had tried it, but I saw nothing good coming from it. It had a tendency to make me feel mellow. Time would slip by without being noticed. I didn’t like the way that it made me feel, but I had to give him credit for making the effort to make my stay here more pleasant.

“I don’t do any of that and I barely drink unless it’s during social occasions.” I escorted him to the door, opening it and then closing it behind him as he disappeared in the storm.

I could smell the aroma of the maple coated salmon that was poached to perfection. I lifted the tray to see the steam escape. The mashed potatoes had a hint of garlic that wet my appetite.

There didn’t seem to be any need to heat things up in the microwave. I sat down, grabbing a red linen napkin and placing it in my lap before grabbing the gleaming silver of the fork in my hand.

I heard the whistle of the wind, but I was safe and secure and happy to be off the road. I ate in silence, thinking about Marshall and wanting him to be here to experience this with me. The salmon flaked off my fork. There was a medley of fresh vegetables that were most likely in season this time of year. I devoured the entire plate, thinking that it was the perfect way to end a very confusing day.

The future was unclear and murky like I was looking into the dirty water under the bottom of a bathtub. I had no idea what would be waiting for me when I went back to civilization. I’d seven days to think about that and to not think about that. It was hard not to think about the words that Lillian and Marshall had said to me.

I went to the fridge and I opened it to see the complimentary bottle of wine. I looked for a corkscrew and saw that one was magnetized to the door of the fridge. This place really did think of everything including more blankets and dishware for whatever I would pick up and make on my own in the small kitchenette.

I pried the cork loose, poured myself a glass and then sat down by the fire. I looked into the flames and I could remember the heat that penetrated into my clothes every time that I was around Marshall. My legs would be weak at the knees. My heart fluttered and my eyes glazed over with amorous intentions.

I got up and I walked to the window, pacing back and forth and then draping myself over the chair by the fire once again. Any problem seemed to wash away. It was a perfect venue and something that I should’ve done a long time ago. I was a summer person and winter was a time to cloister and hibernate by binge watching old shows and movies on Netflix.

This place had all the comforts of home and was definitely my way of roughing it. I found a few books that were probably left during somebody’s stay. I got quite involved in a mystery that was taking place on the orient express. I was breezing through the pages, holding the book in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. I felt like I was getting a better understanding of who might have done it. I had my assumptions, but I had yet to find any evidence to corroborate my theory.

The murder was in the dining car after the lights had inexplicably gone off for only a few seconds. When the lights came back on, young Mr. Peterson was flung over his food with blood dripping from his mouth. The evidence of foul play was quite apparent by the hilt of the blade sticking from his back.

I curled up with a blanket over me. I was in the Lotus position. I was quite comfortable and finding that this time away was doing me a world of good. Marshall still lingered in my thoughts. Touching his lips with the deep impression of my lipstick was keeping me from getting to the bottom of the mystery in the novel. I didn’t recognize the author and it was not one of those that would be found on the New York’s best seller list.