Maid for Him.

Chapter Seven

Cole had arranged for another wonderful meal to be delivered to Tess in the guest house. Her eyes lit up when she saw it and she immediately snuggled up by the television to eat the grilled chicken with white barbecue sauce. Picking the slightly charred edges off the meat, she savored the flavor of the oregano and paprika. It wasn't spicy in the least, just full-bodied flavor which submerged her mouth and turned eating into an experience rather than a necessity.

She wondered if it would be bad for her unborn child if she were to drink the leftover white, barbecue sauce. An image of her baby backstroking through the thick white gravy popped into her mind and she smiled. Compromising, she ripped apart a flaky buttermilk biscuit and used it to scrape up the leftover sauce and ate every, last bite, washing it all down with some homemade sweet tea.

If Cole's father wanted to get rid of her, he'd made a mistake hiring the chef. He knew how to make, good, old fashioned food and she could definitely get used to it. Much better than the hotdogs from the street vendors in New York. They'd become her staple diet just before she'd left the city. They were cheap, quick and not nearly as bad as people said. Although, there was no way they compared to the meals she'd been eating at the ranch.

Sitting back, she rubbed her belly. It'd been a long day, and all she wanted was to climb into bed and sleep. But guilt kept her from doing so. Getting up she straightened up the cushions, hitting at them in an attempt to plump them back up. She picked up her dinner plates and took them to the kitchen and washed them, before placing them back on the tray they came on. She supposed someone would come and get them in the morning and return them to the main house.

Contemplating if she should vacuum the rugs, she realized she hadn't seen a vacuum cleaner. Maybe she could sweep them tomorrow morning. The last thing she wanted was Cole's father thinking she was taking advantage of the staff and the privileges. If she could keep the place clean and tidy, he'd have to realize she wasn't there for the money. She'd always worked hard for what she had and she hoped he would be able to see that eventually. Thinking of cleaning, she remembered the clothes she'd put in the dryer that morning.

Padding across the floor, her bare feet moved silently along the polished boards to the laundry room. She grabbed the basket from the top of the machine and pulled open the door of the dryer. Only to find, her clothes weren't there, they'd gone. First the coffee mug and now her clothing. Frantically, her heart beating hard, she pulled open every cupboard in the laundry room.

Nothing.

Inside the washing machine.

Nothing.

Checked the dryer again.

Nothing.

Panic clutched at her heart and made it difficult to breathe. She was being ridiculous. Wasn't she?

She pulled out her phone, her hands jumping, and called Cole's number. Her head was spinning; she couldn't understand what was happening to her. By the time Cole answered, she'd worked herself up into a frenzied state.

"Cole, come quickly. I need you." She practically cried on the phone.

"What's going on? What happened? Are you in labor?" Cole's voice matched her own.

"Just hurry, please."

She paced the floor waiting for him to arrive, worried she'd wear a hole in the wood. Back and forth, back and forth. Finally, a frantic knocking on the door jolted her, sending her pulse jumping. She hurried to answer the door, uncaring that she waddled like an angry goose. Geese moved like they were 100 years old, but were terrifyingly fast. That was her at that moment.