Summer Love in the Country (Summer Instalove)

A door slammed from farther down the building, making me jump awake. Reaching for my

phone, I realized that it was five-thirty. Dammit.

Scrubbing my hands and face, and brushing my hair at top speed, I raced to the farmhouse

and into the kitchen. Miriam was there, calm and cheerful

as ever, stirring up a huge pot of

delicious smelling sauce. I saw that Dean was behind her, chopping green onions for the

salad.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, “I was working all afternoon and fell asleep, and forgot to set an

alarm.”

“It happens, honey,” Miriam said, waving her hand at me as if it was no big deal. I noticed

that today she had little tomato clips holding her hair in place. “Dean said that you worked

really hard this morning, so that will tucker a gal out.”

“I’m usually on time, really. I’ve set my phone so that there’s an alarm at ten to five every

day, in case it ever happens again.”

Miriam turned to Dean. “I’m glad this one is staying for more than a week.”

“Me too,” Dean said quietly as Miriam turned away. Something in the way he looked at me made my skin feel warm while my breath quickened.

Miriam turned back to the huge center island, handing me a freshly washed bowl of three

different types of lettuce. “Be a lamb and tear this up for me, then maybe you could make

us another batch of that salad dressing of yours.”

“Sure.” When she was back at the stove, humming to herself, I asked Dean quietly, “Where

are the other girls?”

“They’re leaving tomorrow, so they probably didn’t see the need to do another round in the

kitchen,” he shrugged.

“Wow,” I muttered, shaking my head. “I guess it must be odd having strangers in and out all

the time. It’s hard enough to learn whether you can depend on a person.”

“Don’t you worry, Dean,” Miriam said, shaking a spoon in his direction. “Do you remember

Ryan, that musician with the long black hair?”

Dean nodded slightly. “He was here last year, right?”

“That’s it. He’ll be here tomorrow. He’s only staying for two days, to lock himself in a room

to edit the lyrics of his new album. Something about construction at his apartment making it