Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 98823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ezra
“You’re about to be famous.” Mom said as she cut biscuit dough into perfect rounds. The kitchen smelled amazing, yeasty and warm, with an undercurrent of apples and spicy meat.
“I kind of am famous,” I pointed out as I poured two cups of coffee, leaving plenty of room in Duncan’s for him to sweeten and doctor it up to his heart’s content when he finally made it downstairs.
“I know.” Mom patted my cheek with a floury hand. “I meant your adventure yesterday. You were a real hero.”
“It was mainly Duncan.” I continued to feel some kind of way about what had happened at the golf course. “But he keeps saying we were a team, which I guess is fair enough. We worked well together, all of us. Dad’s the one who got the defibrillator. He’s a hero too.”
“He is. You all should be proud. And Dad has already had to say no comment to at least three news outlets.”
“Sh-shoot. Seriously?” Coffee souring in my stomach, I glanced over at the stairs. Duncan had said he needed to check his work email, but I was pretty sure that was a pretense for not wanting to walk into the kitchen together. He didn’t want to make it obvious we’d slept the whole night together, and I could respect that. Getting to snuggle with him all night was worth the secrecy, as was our early-morning shower for two before my mom started rattling around in the kitchen.
“Oh yes. I’m betting the town gossip network is already buzzing too.” She didn’t look up from rustling in a cabinet filled with various pans.
“Crap. Don’t let Duncan hear about us being news,” I said in a low whisper.
Stopping her digging in the cupboard, Mom frowned at me. “You don’t want your personal security to know your daring rescue is stirring up headlines? Isn’t that his job? Shielding you from things like unexpected paparazzi ambushes?”
“No. Yes. It’s complicated.” Groaning, I slumped against the counter.
“Complicated?” Mom raised her eyebrows above the rim of her gold glasses. “Want to tell me about it?”
“I can’t.” I pursed my lips. I wasn’t going to lie and tell her there was nothing there, but I also wanted to honor Duncan’s desire to keep things under wraps. “It’s nothing bad, promise. But I can’t talk about it right now.”
“I see.” Head tilting, she drew the words out as she considered me closely. Undoubtedly, she saw everything I wasn’t saying. I was pretty much an open book with her, and it sucked not being able to say more. As it was, she seemed to guess at least part of the truth. “Ezra. I like Duncan. A lot. But dallying with an employee—”
“He’s not my employee,” I snapped, then gentled my tone. I was only digging myself in deeper, but maybe part of me wanted someone to talk to about this. “I mean, he’s part of the team for the tour, but I’m not his boss.”
“Does he know that?” She lined up the biscuits on the large baking sheet she’d retrieved from the cabinet.
“I’m sure. We’re…friends.” I tried to sound certain, but my hands tensed against the counter. How would Duncan categorize our relationship? Did he still see himself as my security chief first? And why did that bug me so damn much?
“And you want to be more.” As usual, my mom nailed it.
Clamping my lips shut, I looked down at the brown tile floor. I didn’t trust myself to speak without blabbing the whole story.
“You might have to choose.” Voice pragmatic, Mom turned on the sink to wash her hands. “Is he your security or your…more? Because if he’s your security, you need to let him do his job. And even if he’s more, you can’t protect him from the world.”
“Sure I can.” Maybe if I acted like Duncan was my boyfriend enough, I could will it into existence. And whether he was my security, my friend, or something else, I was still going to do my damnedest to keep the media circus away from him. From us.
“Uh-huh.” Mom sounded decidedly skeptical as she dried off her hands.
“What?”
“Oh, nothing. It’s your life.” She waved the dishtowel. “But I do know how I feel when your dad and you try to manage information, protect me from news to keep me from getting anxious.”
“It’s not the same thing.” Now I was getting grumpy.
“Of course not.” Her voice was kind, but there was a certain amount of her humoring me there too. “And maybe nothing will come of the gossip and news digging.”
“Exactly. No need to worry Duncan prematurely.” Footsteps sounded on the stairs, so I quickly changed the subject. “What are we having with the biscuits? Your famous gravy?”
“Yes, and some eggs.” She gave me an indulgent look like she knew precisely what I was doing.