willing to stop, but the little jerk had a clump of my long hair in his fist, and until he let go, I wasn’t going to release his ear.
“I mean it…really, you’re behaving like little brats.” Dad had reached his boiling point. I could tell by the way he said brats, as if he was describing two small children who’d just knocked over his favorite vase.
Just as I was getting ready to free Justin’s ear, I heard a loud clearing of a throat from the screen door. We all stopped moving, and simultaneously Justin and I both let go. The three of us turned to the doorway to see an Amish man, with a long, funky chestnut beard, standing there with a look of what could only be called wide-eyed bewilderment. He was wearing a dark blue button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled to the beginning of his well-defined muscles. The black suspenders were odd, as were the old-fashioned-looking pants he was wearing. Something about the man commanded attention, though, and I straightened up further as his eyes passed over me quickly.
“I am your neighbor, Amos Miller. I thought I would come by with my sons to offer you assistance getting settled in…if you need it.” He said it in a relaxed and placid way, directing all his attention to my father, who briskly crossed the floor and opened the door for the visitors.
“Oh, how nice of you, Amos. Ah…I’m David Cameron and this is my daughter, Rose, and one of my sons, Justin.” Dad stopped to look around and then went on, “My other son is Sam, and he’s here somewhere. I’m not sure where at the moment.”
Poor Dad—how embarrassing to be caught breaking up a fight between his kids the first time he meets his new neighbors, and Amish ones at that. Dad had already informed me that we would have interesting and eccentric neighbors here in Meadow View, but this was the first time I’d been so close to any Amish people. My heart started to drum faster when my eyes met and locked on the gaze of the boy standing a little behind and to the side of Amos.
Well, he wasn’t a boy; more like a young man. Amazingly, he was as tall as Sam and as well built—probably the same age, too. His hair was wavy and dark, poised on his head like on one of those European statues of the men with hardly any clothes on. You know, a little on the wild side, but still looking totally perfect. A bit of bronze streaks gave the locks a brindle effect that shone in the soft spray of late-afternoon sunlight coming through the screen door. The hair matched his warm, almond-colored eyes perfectly.
And for the first moment in a very long time, the world didn’t appear entirely in the muted, hazy color of doom. As a matter of fact, it seemed to have brightened considerably in the foyer when it sunk into my hardened brain that he was really cute—like Abercrombie & Fitch poster-guy cute—with his full, curving lips and sculpted nose and cheekbones.
I suddenly became conscious of the fact that I was standing in front of him soaking wet, muddy, with my hair in wild disarray. I could even feel a large portion of the strands sticking out from my head where Justin had pulled them. Figures, I finally meet a guy who makes my heart skip a beat, and I look like the Bride of Frankenstein.
He was appraising me from head to toe with interest in his eyes, subtle, but interested. I wasn’t surprised by his examination of me. I was used to guys checking me out. I discovered three years ago, when I turned thirteen and started to develop little bumps on my chest, that the opposite sex found me attractive. I had been blessed with a slender, athletic body and curves in all the right places. I’d let my thick, acorn-brown hair grow long enough to reach the top of my butt, which guys seemed to appreciate. And on more than one occasion, some member of the male species would tell me how pretty my light blue eyes were. I found it all pretty embarrassing, especially since every time I looked in a mirror, I still saw the same skinny girl with a mouthful of braces that I used to be.
The thing I wasn’t used to, though, was the way this Amish guy looking at me was affecting my body. As if it had just come out of a deep hibernation—all the fluttering and tingling vibrations that were now popping up in the center of my belly were spreading out, letting me know that I really was alive, after all the troubles of the past year.
Hmm…maybe this place wouldn’t be so bad after all.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, David.” Amos extended his hand and Dad grasped it in a friendly way, which was usual for my dad. “These are my sons Jacob and Noah.” He nodded in turn toward the two young men with him. I hadn’t even noticed the other one, probably because he stood directly behind his father with his eyes lowered, not looking at me at all. Almost rudely, I thought at first, but then it occurred to me that maybe his brother Noah was the rude one. He was still staring at me as if he’d never seen a girl before, only now a slight smirk touched his mouth. I liked his eyes, but I didn’t like the tilt of his lips, and I averted my gaze from his as Sam came bounding into the foyer covered in cobwebs.
“You should see how creepy the cellar is! There were actually some animal bones…” His voice trailing off, he was clearly surprised to see the Amish guys standing there.
“Well, we’ve found Sam. Sam, these are our new neighbors.” Dad motioned over at the guests with an impatient sweep of his hand, and Sam went forward automatically to shake their hands like a well-trained doctor’s son.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Sam said in the courteous voice he didn’t use much and definitely never used with me.
“What kind of bones do you think they are?” Noah asked curiously. For the moment, he’d lost interest in me, sending a ripple of irritation through my body. But I had gotten to hear his voice, and it was deep and sexy.
“Don’t know. Do you want to see ’em?”
Noah glanced at his father, who nodded once, and then he answered my brother. “Sure, let’s go.”
That’s just great. Within two minutes, fun-loving, happy-go-lucky Sam had made a friend—a gorgeous friend whose eyes made my stomach do flips. And even though I was cold and uncomfortable in my wet clothes, I decided to follow the boys and see what the fuss was all about in the cellar. The opportunity to spend more time with my hot neighbor had nothing to do with the trip underground, I told myself as I hurried to catch up.
We started down the crumbling rock steps, and Sam hit the switch, lighting the only bulb I could see. It was one of those scary dangling bulbs that are in all the horror movies. A chill ran through me, and I didn’t think it was just because of the wet clothes. It would be my luck that the house was haunted on top of everything else.
The last step was more like a two-foot drop, and Noah, who was right in front of me, stopped and looked back, offering his hand to help me down. Wow, this was a new experience for me, a guy actually being chivalrous. I spent way too much time with my Neanderthal brothers, I decided. Slipping my hand into his warm, strong grip, I made my way down the last step.
When I reached the floor, he held my hand captive for a few seconds longer than was necessary, sending major goose bumps along my arm. I glanced up at him, and when my eyes met his, he let go. As quickly as he had given his full attention to me, he shifted it back to Sam, following my brother deeper into the sooty darkness.
The cellar could have just as well been a New York sewer, as damp and murky as it was. I wrapped my arms around my chest, trying to warm myself in the nasty environment while I lightly stepped over the hard-packed dirt floor. The one little lightbulb only illuminated the area right below it, and the farther reaches of the room—and it was big—were inky black, except for a few shards of light slicing through the darkness from cracks in the rock foundation. I wasn’t an expert, but the cracks were probably not a good thing. Another part of the house Dad must have missed.
The light, sticky touch of something on my neck
