The first time I saw Kade Logan was at at a garden party, or rather about three hours before, in my friend's garden, hauling stacks of wood over his shoulder. I had moved in with my best friend, Francine, a fellow divorcee after my long, drawn out divorce. I had spent eighteen years with a husband who cheated on me with women half his age. I bore him two children who were ivy league students, and I, by all accounts, was a good wife. But I turned forty, and apparently forty did not amuse him. He was moving on, and moving up. In this case, up meant a twenty-two year old fashion model who called herself "Jahana" and fancied herself a photographer. He was no longer content to be the husband of a forty year old woman named Rachel, no matter how well I maintained my body and kept up my appearance. I had been left, dumped, better-dealed.
The thing was, I felt free. Finally, after eighteen years of marriage and twenty years with him altogether, I felt free. So, I decided when the divorce papers came through, that I would live with the shamelessness of a man. I took lovers, both men and women. I became... I hate the word slut, so I will say 'libertine.' And after a year of shamelessness, I saw him. And a whole new chapter of my life began. He was nineteen, and looked a few years older. A company had been hired to set up the garden area for the event and the company was one of those that mostly hires young men who take up several odd jobs here and there to get by. It was a warm summer day and I sat on my friend Francine's veranda, feeling quite useless in a sundress and sandals. I watched this crew of random people, most of them milling around, doing their best not to work too hard in the heat, and I couldn't take my eyes off of one of him. He was working hard, and that was the first thing I noticed. He took pride in his work, though it was trivial. He was beautiful. He was tall and his skin was lightly browned from working outdoors which made his blue eyes even brighter. He wore jeans and a white tee shirt with a button up blue shirt left open and slung over it and work boots. He was glistening with a light sheen of sweat. I couldn't take my eyes off of him and I felt like a horny letch for staring. Francine noticed him too, and we stood at the veranda like two predatory vultures swooping in for the kill.
"Quite a bulge the boy has in his jeans." Francine said with a grin.
Yes, I had noticed that too.
"When is their break?" I asked.
"Oh, I think I could ask the foreman to spare a man to help with some indoor chores any time we like." She said.
I went to the kitchen and made a pitcher of iced tea with eight glasses of ice for the crew and brought it out on a tray. There was a chorus of "Thank you, Ma'am" and several of the men took a glass gratefully. But MY young man did not. He kept working, nodding at me with a polite smile when he caught me staring. The foreman took a glass and shook his head.
"That one's my best worker. He does the job of three of the others, useless bastards."
"I noticed he seems a dedicated fellow. What's his name? I would like to give him a good reference if he needs it."
"That one's Kade. Kade Logan." The foreman nodded with respect. "Nice kid. Hard worker. Trustworthy. Never have any complaints about him." He took a moment to bark orders at a group of young men who were lazing around, avoiding their work, and the three men reluctantly went back to moving tables.
"You said Kade is a trustworthy sort?" I asked and the foreman nodded. "Because I was hoping to find a trustworthy sort to help with some of the indoor preparation. I need some furniture moved and some heavy plants rearranged, some pictures to hang, that sort of thing. Do you think you could spare the boy for an hour..." I thought about it. "Or two."
"Yeah, I suppose so. Once he gets that wood hauled out of sight then sure, I'll send him in. If he's any trouble, just let me know. Never known Kade to be any trouble though."
"He seems a nice boy." I said, staring at young Kade, who stopped by the table to guzzle down a glass of iced tea. I watched it slide down his gorgeous throat.
"Yeah, well, the ladies love him." The foreman said, glancing at me with a knowing look. I blushed. So, I was that obvious. "I'll need him back in an hour."
I waited inside, in the sitting room with the big open door to the veranda. Francine shook her head at me with amusement and went about instructing the workers where to set this table, this chair and this light fixture. I went about trying to look casual and reading an issue of Vogue while I waited for him. A few minutes later, I looked up to see him standing in the doorway, the sunlight making him appear Godly.
"Ma'am, you need some help with something?"
Oh yes, I did.
It occurred to me with a great deal of amusement that this was the opening scene of every cliched pornographic film.
"Yes. I need you to... eh..." Damn, I didn't know where to take it from here. "...take down that painting and hang it in the dining room." I pointed to the large oil landscape that graced Francine's sitting room and winced. Francine would kill me, but I was making things up and couldn't think of anything else. Francine's house was always perfect.
He looked at the painting, taking a white cloth from his back pocket and wiping his hands clean of sweat. He studied it a moment, and I was surprised at the intelligence in his eyes.
"That painting?" He asked, nodding it's way. "The Charles Mettigen? If you don't mind my saying so, I think you may want to leave it where it is. The light is perfect in here for it's palette. Further back in the house and it would be shadowed and lose it's sense of..." He paused to find the right word. "Resonance."
I was quiet a moment, a bit stunned by his intelligence. It was a Charles Mettigen, and he was right that it belonged where it was. In a way, I feel relieved he said something. If I had moved the painting, it would surely infuriate Francine. I wasn't thinking clearly at all. This young man had made my brain drop into my panties.
"You're right. Perhaps you wouldn't mine moving that plant then, the big fern. I can't lift it."
He smiled.
"Of course. Where to?" He went to examine the fern, lifting the 80 pound pot off of it's low marble base easily.
"The bedroom." I said, feeling particularly cougerly. "The guest bedroom right down the hall. The first door on the left. I'll run ahead with the base and open the door for you."I ran ahead and opened the door, watching him easily carry the thing inside and set it on the ceramic base I carried in. "Perfect." I said, which was ridiculous. The fern was too large for this room, and it didn't belong in here at all.
He glanced at me and scratched his temple."You sure?" He asked.