Voices flitted through your consciousness, but didn’t register.  

“And this is the kitchen.  As you can see, it’s open plan, leading into the dining room, and in full view of the front room/parlour area, which is ideal for entertaining.”

A self-deprecating masculine chuckle, and a pause before, “Oh, I won’t be doing any entertaining…”

“Really?  A handsome young man like you?  You know, ladies love a man who can cook.”

“Really?”

Wrinkling your nose, you put a pillow over your head, cursing yourself for falling asleep with the TV on.

“Of course!  Just make them whatever dish is your specialty and between that and those dimples, I’m sure that you’ll find a nice girl in no time.  What do you like to cook?”

“I make toast very well.”

Long silence.

“You know, toast is very delicious; I think that I have a talent for making toast.”

Another pregnant pause.

“Yes, well…you do have lovely dimples.  Let me show you the master bedroom.”  

Now that woke you up.  A bolt of lightning shot through your belly and, disoriented, you yanked your head out from under the pile of pillows and blearily looked around the darkened bedroom, taking a moment to scowl at the dresser mirror that reflected you looking a little less than fresh, and a little more like an unusually large, demented breed of molting chicken, surrounded by blankets and pillows.

The creak of the loose floorboard approaching your bedroom sounded and, without stopping to think, you grabbed the aluminum baseball bat that you kept beside your bed for…well for appearances really, because you never thought that you would actually have to use it, it was more of a just in case decorative item; a conversation piece.  

Flailing against the clinging nest of blankets, you dropped to the floor, gratified that the sound of your decidedly ungraceful landing was deadened by the thick, stormy-blue carpet.  It only took a few steps until you were in front of the entrance leading to the kitchen and, lifting your leg, kicked the door with all of your might.

The door remained closed, but the talking on the other side of it did stop.

Remembering that the door opened inward you yanked it open before the intruders could regain their bearings, and charged into the sun washed kitchen, yelling like a bloodthirsty amazon, the baseball bat poised over your head to deal swift punishment to whomever decided to invade your space on this most exalted of days, the first day of summer vacation.  Fortunately for your future, you recognized the terrified face of your landlady just before you began to reign bloody metallic death on both her and the owner of the male voice, in equal measure.  Freezing, you stared at her in shock, unable to react until a soft cough to your left drew your attention to…

A man so handsome that the breath involuntarily exited your lungs in a whoosh.  

“What?”

No one could ever accuse you of being overly eloquent first thing in the morning.  

“Oh, dear…”

Your eyes cut back to where your landlady was…was she actually wringing her hands?  You hadn’t seen actual hand-wringing outside of Dickensian BBC television reproductions.  But yes, she was wringing her hands and looking absolutely discomfited.  “‘Oh…dear?’” you repeated, slowly lowering the baseball bat.  “What, ‘Oh dear’?  Why, ‘Oh, dear’?”

“Who oh dear, where oh dear,” the man playfully added, his grin cut short by your sudden glare and twirl of the baseball bat.  He cut his eyes to the floor and, with a  small bow, motioned for you to continue.  

“Tall, dark, and dimpled is right,” you said, returning your glare to your landlady.  “‘Oh dear…why?  What is going on?  Who is this?”

From the corner of your eye, you noticed said man looking at you rather intensely, but chalked that up to the fact that you were still in possession of an aluminum baseball bat.

“Well, you see…”

“Yes, perfectly since LASIK, as a matter of fact; keep going, but do it faster.”

“You see, this is Mr. Zhang, he’s visiting us from China, and he wanted to rent one of my cottages for the summer, and I suppose that I just…”

“Mrs. Fairfax, the sudden and discomfiting addition of ellipses to your normally garrulous vocabulary is not endearing you to me this morning.”  You were waking up now, as was your temper, and with it, a sharp tongue.

“I must have forgotten that I already rented this one to you,” she said, all in a breath.