Waiting For You

Chapter Two

~ Reba Cramer ~

From my place dusting the front living room, I saw Marshall Kennedy go tearing through the house from the front door in a straight path back to his father’s office. Not that he ran. No, a Kennedy wouldn’t dare show that lack of decorum in the house.

Ignoring the rush that went through me at the sight of his muscular somewhere over six foot tall frame. The boy just—

Well, okay, he was an adult, and I couldn’t call him a boy anymore. I’d used it for defense against him, not letting my feelings show at all, not letting myself be weak about him. But…dang, Marshall Kennedy was eighteen, almost nineteen, hot as hell and fodder for some filthy fantasies when I couldn’t resist any longer. He wasn’t just tall and fit. No, he worked out every single day and had the muscles to show for it.

The man just turned me on, igniting all my awareness. Sometimes even causing curious wetness at my core if I let my thoughts linger.

And he was nice, which was something not a lot of people living in this mansion could say. Someday, the guy would make a woman a beautiful husband. A stab of pain pierced through me, erasing the attraction I’d been feeling. I rubbed the mantel harder, though there wasn’t a speck of dust on it anyway. I hated to think about his romantic future, even if it was a totally expected progression for him. Grow up, move out, fall in love, get married and have perfect little Kennedy babies.

And I’d probably still be here, vacuuming the carpets.

I wanted to kick myself for this train of thought. I shouldn’t be thinking of Marshall like that. I shouldn’t be thinking of Marshall at all. I should have my mind on my job and avoiding Ardith Kennedy’s wrath. My cleaning partner, Kinley, and I were almost done with this room. It was our last for the day, then I could disappear back to my quarters in the servants wing and practice the fantasy makeup I’d been learning from a YouTube video.

Hopefully, I could do that. Marshall might be great, his father might be nice, too, but the lady of the house was a demon in disguise. I still had bruises and scratches on my arm from when she’d grabbed me last week because I’d been vacuuming too loudly. Doing my job. And vacuuming. Too. Loudly.

I turned from the lamp, I’d been dusting and saw Marshall leaving his father’s office, not five minutes after he’d entered. He smiled when he saw me, and I fought the urge to straighten the skirt of my dull gray maid’s uniform, an ill-fitting dress with a white bib apron. Such an obvious difference from his casual designer clothing that appeared tailored for him. Probably was.

“Mr. Kennedy,” I said with a nod.

He blew out a breath and rolled his eyes. “Mars. For the hundredth time. Mars.”

“Mars,” I repeated in a whisper. “Did you need something?”

Curling his fingers lightly around my upper arm, he drew me away from where Kinley no doubt avidly listened. As soon as we were out of earshot, his hand dropped and he crossed his arms, tipping his head toward me.

“You know what I want,” he said quietly, respecting my desire to have privacy and not broadcast things all over the household.

And yeah, as much as I tried not to think about him and I knew there would be no future for us, the persistent man had been trying to get me to go out with him since he was sixteen. After I’d told him no, that he was still a child while I was twenty-six, he’d given up asking. That hadn’t stopped him from staring hungrily at me as if he wanted to eat me up. Then on his eighteenth birthday, he’d started asking again. At least twice a week. For eleven months, he’d asked me out, and for eleven months, I’d said no.

“And you know what my answer is, what it has to be. I work for your family. I—”

“You don’t work for me,” he interrupted. “And I’m moving out in a month.”

“In a month?” I echoed, my stomach falling to my feet. I hadn’t thought he’d leave until he went to college, if even then. I knew he planned to attend Michigan Valley, which was only a short commute from here. Suddenly, I hated that I wouldn’t see him every day, though it was likely for the best.

“Yeah. Got my own place in town.”

“That’s great. Congratulations,” I said with all the enthusiasm I could muster. Some but not enough. Since my grandfather had retired, Mars was the only one here who made me feel safe, instilling a sense of security I shouldn’t need to crave. To say the atmosphere and working conditions in this house were toxic was an understatement.

“Thanks.” His smirk told me he didn’t buy my response. “But you didn’t answer. Go out with me?”

“Mars…”

“You want to. I want you to. Why not?”

Now, I crossed my arms. “Oh…I can think of about a hundred reasons.”

Or billions.

It wasn’t often that I stood in a place of strength with one of the Kennedys—like ever—but with Mars, I had that courage.

“Only a hundred? I should wear you down soon, then.”

“You know I can’t, for all the reasons I’ve already given you.”