Boss And Desi Secretary

Her sandals were still damp, so she had forgone any footwear. Her feet were so tough she wasn't even thinking about splinters from the wooden floor. She could see, though the windows, just the hint of light. Dawn was breaking.Stepping through the doorway, she was met with the rattling of wooden wheels over the stone plaza. Two horses pulled an empty cargo wagon past the central well, its burly driver nodding to her as he passed. She smiled in return, eyes taking in the small village. The sounds of morning life, familiar the world over, came to her. The blacksmith was already at work, trying to beat the day's heat. At the far end of the town, a group of men trudged through the wooden gate towards the fields. She could hear women, gossiping, as they began their day. She may have grown up in, been raised in the city, but ... this, this spoke to her. She would never be a farmer, no, nor a farmer's wife. But, the life of a small town, or traveling from town to town ... it was wrong to be. Did you just come down?” he asks.A smile crosses Rory’s face and she suddenly finds her voice and a little wittiness to follow. “No, I just sat here watching you beat off.” She smirks. “Of course I just got up. Didn’t you here the toilet flush?” Mortified, Chance stands there without anything to say. His face is beat red, like a fat kid on a diet caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Say, is that a bowl of oatmeal?”Chance recovers after another moment when he realizes that his sister loves oatmeal and like him is probably just as hungry after last night. “Yeah, I can uh, make you a bowl,” he offers.“Can I have that one?” she asks. “I’m starving.” Rory doesn’t know why she just asked that question, knowing full well what Chance just added to it.“This one is for me,” he counters. “It’s uh, already getting cold. I’ll make you a hot one.”Rory cannot argue with that. Logically it would make sense for him to quickly eat it while the water boils for hers. Logically it would, but this has.
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