Devil in Quarantine ~**FIRST HALF COMPLETE**~ Conclusion will be up in 3 days!

Chapter TwoDay One

Tristan

I watch Clara from the porch steps as she heads to the barn and brings out a bale of hay that probably weighs more than she does. I should probably help her, but the way she swatted me away before when I tried to, tells me I should probably just stay away. Holding my head in my hands, I ask myself what the hell I'm going to do here for two weeks with a woman who can't even stand my face. My confusion regarding her deepens as I lift my head and survey the property around me. What is this hot woman doing here all alone, in the middle of nowhere?

Clara's pert ass is in the air as she bends down to shake out the hay for her two dark brown horses, and although her shirt is loose, the sunlight streaming through hints at the shape underneath as she stands up and rubs a horse's nose. She turns to where I'm sitting and I look away, hating getting caught staring as though I'm in grade ten crushing on the girl who sits in front of him in class. I'm too busy inspecting her shed when she approaches me.

"I know, it needs to be fixed up," she says, sounding out of breath. Darn right it does. The shed looks like it's going to cave in any minute. The porch does too. Even though her farm is lovely, almost everything needs repairs.

"Yes, I was going to ask you if it was safe to go in there."

She shrugs, "meh, it's just for the one tractor and some grain." Clara walks up the steps of her brick Georgian home yet stops, nose scrunching up. "Jesus, Mr. Black, you smell worse than the manure the farmers are spreading in the fields today." Her voice drips like honey. Accompanying it is a shit-eating grin, at her amusement and my discomfort.

I disappoint her when I blandly say with a straight face, "So, that's what I smelled like when I arrived. It must mean it's going to rain tonight." I shrug.

She frowns at my knowledge. Her face always showing how she really feels, she can't smooth away the annoyance at my words, probably wondering how a city boy like me would know such a thing.

Refusing to ask me why I know this, she swings open the screen door and smiles in satisfaction as I hear the spring snap it shut. "Are you going to stink up my porch all day?" She calls out from within the house.

Standing, I begin to peel off my shoes, now with the feces of an animal at the bottom, and place them by the door, before entering the house. Clara is in the kitchen washing her hands and turns as she hears my shuffle in my socks She is wiping her hands on a dishtowel, eyeing my disheveled appearance.

I can only imagine what I look like right now. My hair is covered in dust from shavings, as well as my clothes. My shirt is crumpled and I don't even know where my tie and jacket are. She tries to hide a smile but fails, and I lift an eyebrow in question.

"I know. I look like shit."

Clara opens her mouth but I beat her to it. "And smell like shit. Yes, we covered this already. I bet you wish you could take a picture for Eve."

"The thought has crossed my mind," she bites her lip, eyes twinkling. "Mr. Bla--"

"Tristan. It's Tristan. We will be staying together at your house after all."

Clara clears her throat, "That would be unprofessional, Mr. Black. Yes, we will be staying together, but you are a guest and client. The bathroom is the third door on your right if you'd like to freshen up. The room at the end of the hallway is my guest room, you may use it. I'll start supper on the BBQ.' She begins to gather her things from the fridge and I take this as a sign to get lost. I collect my suitcase from my car and make my way to the guest room.

I stride to my room and close the door all the while hearing Clara's voice carries on the phone, probably with Eve. I go to my suitcase and yank out my laptop more forcibly than I should. Why did I care, and why am I so infatuated with her?

I groan as I remember her shocked face as I touched her earlier. She definitely didn't welcome my touch and was probably just waiting for me to find a motel. But I had tried and they were all closed. I am one of her clients, so she's always tried to keep her distance, always maintaining that professional boundary, and stopping all attempts of mine to flirt by calling me, Mr. Black.

I've hinted in the past I'm interested in her, with dinner and lunch invites and she's always accepted only to show up and rip my stories to shreds. When she did this I would, admittedly, become an ass. Already annoyed with her assuming these invites were not dates but for work, she was then destroying my words. I am only human after all. I had been hoping she would get the hint I found her sexy as hell and wanted to take her out for real when I sent her flowers, but she had just thanked me, 'Mr. Black', for the 'lovely flowers'. Yesterday, I got wind she was trying to pawn me and my writing off onto some other guy.

If I'm honest with myself, I was hurt that she would stop editing my work with none so much as a goodbye and a reason. When I confronted Eve about it, she told me straight up Clara was nervous around me and I came on too strong regarding edits, and Clara had enough. This news had gutted me since I thought she was enjoying the sparring, that it was all in good fun. Why else would she continue to join me for those lunches? Or take my calls and respond to my emails? I assumed she would have confronted me if I had made her so nervous and felt like a fucking dick. The thought of making any woman nervous around me made me feel sick. I should have known better that a woman like Clara wouldn't be into a guy like me. Once an asshole, always an asshole. It's one of the things my ex-girlfriend threw at me when I caught her cheating on me with my best friend in college. She pretty much told me I was a bastard and drove her into Brett's willing arms.

I had meant to come to see Clara under the guise of research when in fact I came to apologize and ask her to stay on with me as my editor. I would promise her to just email my work and keep edits strictly to emails only, once per week. But when I showed up here and witnessed how much I bothered her, I figured why bother? She hates me and I should just switch editors and leave her alone. She would never believe that I had wanted to apologize for being overbearing. I had decided to allow the switch in editors when I called Eve when she hit me with the news that I was stuck out here for an unknown duration with a woman who not only disliked me but whom I scared.

I scrub my face with my hand and grimace as I remember her lips. I shouldn't have touched her, but her lips looked so delicious and full, waiting to be kissed. I wanted to just bite them, and I shudder when I think of her chest and her perfect tits outlined in her t-shirt. When she was cleaning the chicken coop I couldn't stop looking at her in those tight jeans or as she bent over to feed her goats, the sweat making the t-shirt cling to those breasts. Fuck I'm getting hard just thinking of her. Shaking my head I head to the bathroom, ready to take a cold shower, wanting to forget the hot editor downstairs. This is going to be a long quarantine.