the caretaker here,” he replied. “I live in the carriage house on the grounds.”
“You live here?” Emily cried, her image of a peaceful weekend in her father’s old home shattering before her. “But I wanted to be alone this weekend.”
“Yeah, well, you and me both,” Daniel replied. “I’m not used to people barging in unannounced.” He glanced over her shoulder suspiciously. “And tampering with the property.”
Emily folded her arms. “What makes you think I’ve tampered with the property?”
Daniel raised an eyebrow in response. “Well, unless you were planning on sitting here in the dark and cold all weekend, then I’d expect you to have tampered. Got the boiler running. Drained the pipes. That sort of thing.”
Emily’s gruffness gave way to embarrassment. She blushed.
“You haven’t managed to get the boiler working, have you?” Daniel replied. There was a wry smile on his lips that told Emily he was slightly amused by her predicament.
“I just haven’t had the chance to yet,” she replied, haughtily, trying to save face.
“Want me to show you?” he asked, almost lazily, as though doing so would be no skin off his nose.
“You would?” Emily asked, a little shocked and confused by his offer to help.
He stepped onto the welcome mat. Snowflakes fluttered from his jacket, creating a mini snowstorm in the hallway.
“I’d prefer to do it myself than have you break something,” he said by way of explanation, accompanied by a nonchalant shrug.
Emily noticed that the falling snow outside her open front door had turned into something of a blizzard. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she was beyond grateful that Daniel had shown up when he did. If not, she probably would have frozen to death overnight.
She shut the door and the two of them paced along the corridor to the door leading down to the basement. Daniel had come prepared. He pulled out a flashlight, lighting a path down the staircase into the basement. Emily followed him down, a little freaked out by the darkness and cobwebs as she descended into the gloom. She’d been terrified of the old basement as a child and had rarely ventured down there. The place was filled with all the old-fashioned machinery and mechanicals that kept the house working. The sight of them overwhelmed her and made her wonder once again whether coming here had been a mistake.
Thankfully, Daniel started the boiler up in a matter of seconds, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. Emily couldn’t help but feel a little put out by the fact she’d needed a man to help her when the very reason she’d come here in the first place was to regain her independence. She realized then that despite Daniel’s rugged hotness and her undeniable attraction toward him, she needed him to leave ASAP. She was hardly going to go on a journey of self-discovery with him in the house. Having him on the grounds was bad enough.
Finished with the boiler, they both left the basement. Emily was relieved to be out of the dank, musty place and back into the main part of the house. She followed Daniel as he went down the hall and into the utility room out the back of the kitchen. Straightaway he got to work draining the pipes.
“Are you prepared to heat the house all winter?” he called to her from his position under the worktop. “Because they’ll freeze otherwise.”
“I’m just staying for the weekend,” Emily replied.
Daniel shuffled out from under the counter and sat up, his hair ruffled and sticking up all over the place. “You shouldn’t mess with an old house like this,” he said, shaking his head.
But he sorted out the water nonetheless.
“So where’s the heat?” Emily asked as soon as he was done. It was still freezing cold, despite the boiler being on and the pipes now unblocked. She rubbed her arms, trying to get the circulation going.
Daniel laughed, cleaning his dirty hands on a towel. “It doesn’t just miraculously start working, you know. You’ll need to call for oil delivery. All I could do is start the thing up.”
Emily sighed with frustration. So Daniel wasn’t quite the Knight in Shining Armor she thought he was.
“Here,” Daniel said, handing her a business card. “That’s Eric’s number. He’ll deliver to you.”
“Thanks,” she mumbled. “But I don’t seem to get service out here.”
She thought of her cell phone, of the empty bars, and remembered how wholly alone she really was.
“There’s a pay phone up the road,” Daniel said. “But I wouldn’t risk going there in the middle of a blizzard. And anyway, they’ll be closed now.”
“Of course,” Emily mumbled, feeling frustrated and completely at a loss.
Daniel must have noticed that Emily was put out and feeling dejected. “I can get a fire going for you,” he offered, nodding toward the living room. His eyebrows rose expectantly, almost shyly, making him look suddenly boyish.
Emily wanted to protest, to tell him to leave her alone in the freezing cold house because that’s the least she deserved, but something made her hesitate. Perhaps it was that having Daniel in the house made her feel suddenly less lonely, less cut off from civilization. She hadn’t expected to have no cell phone service, no ability to communicate with Amy, and the reality of spending her first night alone in the cold, dark house was daunting.
Daniel must have read into her hesitation because he strode out of the room before she got a chance to open her mouth and say anything.
She followed, silently grateful that he’d been able to read the loneliness in her eyes and had offered to remain, even if it was under the guise of starting a fire. She found Daniel in the living room, busy constructing a neat pile of kindling, coal, and logs in the fireplace. She was struck immediately with a memory of her father, of him crouched by the fireplace expertly creating fires, spending as much care and time over them as someone might a great work of art. She’d watched him make a thousand of them, and had always loved them. She found fires hypnotic and would spend hours stretched out on the rug before them, watching the orange and red flames dance, sitting for so long the heat would sting her face.
Emotion began to creep up Emily’s gullet, threatening to choke her. Thinking of her father, seeing so clearly the memory in her mind, made long suppressed tears well in her eyes. She didn’t want to cry in front of Daniel, didn’t want to look like a pathetic, helpless damsel. So she balled her emotions up inside and strode purposefully into the room.
“I actually know how to make a fire,” she said to Daniel.
“Oh, you do?” Daniel replied, looking up at her with a cocked eyebrow. “Be my guest.” He held out the matches.
Emily snatched them up and struck one alight, the little orange flame flickering in her fingers. The truth was, she’d only ever watched her father making fires; she herself had never actually made one. But she could see so vividly in her memory how to do it that she felt confident in her ability. So she knelt down and set fire to the bits of kindling Daniel had place at the bottom of the fireplace. In a matter of seconds the fire went up, making a familiar whomp that felt as comforting and nostalgic to her as anything else the great house contained. She felt very proud of herself as the flames began to grow. But instead of going up the chimney,
