Lakeside Romance. Lisa Jordan
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her to help out. His sister had her hands full with her early-learning child care center, especially with her annual state inspection coming up. Maybe he’d have to consider hiring someone, but bringing in an outsider to rummage through his family’s things didn’t really sit well with him.
He’d find someone... He had no choice.
Climbing out of his car, he closed the door, silencing the trumpet sounds from the radio. He glanced at the yellow Beetle parked in the other stall.
Wait a minute...
What if he did agree to teach his neighbor to cook? Would she be willing to help him out in return? But asking her was crazy. He knew nothing about her.
But Gran and Chloe knew her. After learning about the fire-alarm episode, both reassured him Sarah wouldn’t be any trouble. They’d spent the next twenty minutes singing her praises.
He did know her brother, and Caleb was an upstanding guy, not to mention a Shelby Lake police officer.
Maybe asking wouldn’t be so bad. She could always say no.
He took the stairs to Sarah’s apartment two at a time and rapped his knuckles against the door.
Music blared. A crash sounded, then a muffled cry before the door was wrenched open.
His neighbor greeted him with something brown splattered across the front of her shirt.
“Bad time?”
She popped a hand on her hip and cocked her head. “You know, I don’t think there’s ever a good time when you put me in the kitchen. Come in.” Pulling the door open, she moved aside to let him in.
He stepped inside and slid out of the way so she could close the door. “I don’t want to keep you from...whatever it is you’re doing—”
She pushed hair off her face with the back of her wrist and glanced toward the kitchen. “Creating a disaster, apparently.”
“I stopped by with a proposal for you.”
She lowered her head, batted her eyes and fanned herself with her hand. “Why, Mr. Seaver, it’s a bit sudden, don’t you think? We’ve only known each other a few days.”
He rolled his eyes and shook his head. What a scatterbrain. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all, but he was running out of options. He braced his hand against the door frame. “I need help getting a house ready to list on the market by the end of summer. You need someone to teach you how to cook. What do you say about helping each other out?”
Her eyes widened. “Are you serious?”
“More than you know.”
“Why the change of heart?”
“I don’t have a lot of options right now.” Alec dragged a hand through his hair. “Someone is relying on me. I won’t go back on my word.”
“That makes two of us.” Sarah crossed her arms and tapped her index finger against her chin. Then she flashed a bright smile. “I’ll do it. I’ll help with your house, and you can help my teenagers learn to cook.”
He lifted a hand. “What? No. I said I’d teach you to cook. It’s up to you to pass your skills on to them.”
She shrugged. “But I’d need you in the kitchen with me so I don’t screw things up or set off more smoke alarms. Two hours each afternoon, and I’ll give you the same amount of time each evening with your house.”
More than anything, he wanted to turn around and head back down the stairs, taking his absurd idea with him, but he couldn’t handle having the same argument every time he visited his uncle. “Fine. I’ll give you a few basic lessons, and I’ll be on hand to help you out.”
“Really? Just so there’s no misunderstanding—you’re sure you want to do this?”
Want to? Of course not. But he needed help. “Yes, I’ll be a regular ole Henry Higgins.”
“Who?” She frowned.
“Henry Higgins. You know—the professor from My Fair Lady who taught Eliza Doolittle how to speak properly.”
Sarah wrinkled her nose. “I’m not crazy about old movies.”
“Not old. Classic. Apparently you have more to learn than cooking.”
“When would you like to start?”
He glanced at the stain spreading across her shirt. “The sooner, the better by the look of things.”
Sarah stuck out her hand. “I accept your proposal, Professor Higgins.”
Alec shook her hand.
What had he just agreed to?
If Sarah didn’t need Alec’s help so badly, she’d turn around and walk out the door. When he’d suggested cooking lessons in exchange for preparing his uncle’s house to be placed on the market, he hadn’t mentioned she’d be walking into an episode of Hoarders. Maybe for good reason.
And now he stood behind her, blocking her escape.
She set her bucket of cleaning supplies on the floor by the door and moved deeper into the abyss, wrinkling her nose. The air settled around her with the odor of mildew and vapor rub. The wooden floor creaked beneath her flip-flops as she stepped carefully onto a bare spot on the worn area carpet. She balanced herself on one foot while she searched for another space to step.
The image of jumping from rock to rock to cross the stream behind her childhood home slid out from a closeted corner in her mind. Finding there was no free floor space to move to, Sarah put her other foot down almost on top of her first, stayed put and turned in a slow circle to take in every angle of the cluttered living room.
Her gaze roamed over the rows of books spilling from the natural oak cases built around the door frame. Mismatched framed watercolor paintings in various sizes hung on the faded floral-papered wall behind a couch buried under throw pillows and knitted afghans. Towering stacks of magazines and newspapers lined a narrow path that led into another room. Heavy drapes concealed the sunshine that peaked through the gap and begged to light up the room.
She tried to keep her jaw from gaping like a trout, but she doubted she’d succeeded. A shudder shimmied down her spine.
She wasn’t trying to judge, but she just couldn’t wrap her head around the chaos. Sure, she needed things organized and put in their places. Otherwise, her brain simply couldn’t function. And obviously not everyone had to be like her, but still... Seriously, how did people live like this?
She dragged her fingers through her hair, then waved a hand over the room and looked at Alec. “I’m not gonna lie—I expected some light housekeeping. Maybe some basic organization. Or even some staging. But this...”
Even as her voice trailed off, the knots in her stomach cinched tighter. She needed the outreach program to be a success, but if those teens depended on her to help them cook, they were all in trouble. Somehow she’d have to figure out how to tackle this job.
Did Alec hope she’d take one look at his uncle’s house and bail? Set her up to fail so he could get out of helping her? If so, why even bother extending the offer? But he seemed so sincere, almost desperate.
He stuffed his hands in his pockets and pushed away from the wall separating the entryway from the living room. “I know. Uncle Emmett was a bit of a pack rat.”
“Pack rat?” She laughed and shook her head. “Alec, I’m sorry to say, but this borders on hoarding.”
“Oh, come on. It’s not that bad.”
“Okay, maybe not, but there’s no way I can have this house ready quickly, especially with everything else going