Bedside Manner (Love Under Lockdown)

The door joining the kitchen to the garage closed behind us with a soft click and then he led the way into the house. I had to hold my breath to keep from gasping. The house wasn’t only large, but it was also absolutely beautiful. Whoever decorated it— or, more likely, had had it decorated— had done a wonderful job.

“Did you do this?” I asked him.

“What’s that?”

I swept my hand over the entire scene.

“Oh, yeah. The décor. I did. Not personally, of course, but I did draw up the layout and choose each of the pieces. I was going for a Swedish home-craft feel. Like the one devised by Karin Larsson.”

The style he was talking about mostly sounded like Greek to me, but I couldn’t deny that it also sounded impressive. I was mostly just amazed that he had any sort of aesthetic sense or skills at all, especially with the amount of time I knew he had put into studying in medical school. He was multi-talented, indeed.

“Follow me,” he said, as he went up to the second level.

I followed him, not quite sure what awaited me. It had been a while since a man had led me upstairs for any reason. Let alone the one I was suddenly fantasizing about.

“This will be your room,” he said, opening the door.

We’d stopped by Grandma’s place to get the bags she’d put out on the stoop for me. Packing my clothes would seem to be at least a bit of a guessing game but, as usual, she’d gotten everything exactly right. The wheels on the bags rattled softly on the hardwood floor as I followed Jake into the cavernous room.

“I’m guessing you’re hungry,” he said.

“Starved.”

I hadn’t eaten for hours, and even then, I hadn’t had the opportunity to actually finish my salad. If I didn’t have some food, and stat, I was likely to faint on the lovely Persian carpet. In fact, I was starting to feel dizzy.

“Are you okay?” Jake asked me, as if he looked at my face.

I most have grown visibly pale.

“I think so,” I told him, a bit worried. “I guess I just keep thinking about my poor Grandma. I hope she’s alright. And what if I have Covid, too?”

“I doubt you do,” Jake said. “But if so, you’re in good hands.”

It was so sweet of him to take care of me like this. I couldn’t help but let my heart melt a bit for The Iceman.

“You can have a seat,” he offered. “And I’ll get us something to eat. I’ll be right back.”

True to his word, Jake returned within minutes, bearing a glass of milk and the sort of sandwich you’d pay ten dollars for at a restaurant.

“Get this down as a snack, and I’ll go and get dinner started,” he instructed me.

And with that, he was gone again, like an apparition seen in a haunted house. I did as he suggested, drinking the milk and scarfing down the sandwich, it taking every bit of food available to get my stomach to calm down. Not to fill up, of course. There would still be plenty of time for that when dinner was ready.

It wasn’t long before I could smell it. The delicious aroma was wafting up from the ground floor, beckoning me down there, despite his request to stay put.

I was never one to do what I was told, anyway, or at least not for long. So, one by one, I took the stairs, the plush carpeting under my socks relaxing me. Jake had insisted I take my shoes off at the door and now I could understand why.

I stopped at the door, not wanting to break his rhythm. Jake moved around the kitchen like a drummer at a multi-piece drum kit. Each of his hands were holding a different implement, and he switched seamlessly between tools. A spurtle became a whisk, and a spoon was switched out for a spatula.

I couldn’t believe how nice Jake was being to me. It made me feel like I could trust him, which was a vital element if we were going to be living together for the next two weeks.

Jake was soon finished cooking and he then served up the luscious meal. I only had to take one bite to know it was by far the best I’d ever had! He joined me at the antique table that was complete with white linen cloth— the sort I would expect to see only in some Victorian costume drama.

It was a struggle not to ogle him as we ate. My panties were actually getting wet as the evening continued. I found my attitude toward Jake not only softening but also warming considerably.

I’d always thought he was hot, at least on a subconscious level, even when I hated him most. It was getting hard to keep hating him, though. Not with what he’d done for Grandma and everything he was doing for me.