Page 193 of Hide and Keep

Wordlessly, Crue maneuvers me to his left side, but again, I was already planning on going this way. Well, not on this side of the island—the chef’s side. I only wanted to stick as close tothe outside of it as possible. So as confidently as I can, I stroll between the island and the custom Diva de Provence range, surprising the chef as he minces chives. I’ve never ventured into his work area, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I’d rather face Ryan right now than my father.

“Good morning, Miss Munreaux. How can I serve you this morning?”

Sickening. He’s beyond sickening.

“Miss,” Crue tries to call me back.

What’d he expect? He’s the one who put me on this path.

My father’s voice makes everyone else’s sound like children’s. “Ah, Never, I’ve been waiting for you.”

My eyes flit between Ryan’s, Crue’s, and the back of my father’s head, all three men expecting…something out of me.

I look at Crue again, his nostrils flared as his jaw flexes. What is he so mad about? He’s the one that basically called me a dog.

Is it because I’m standing next to Ryan? If I wasn’t repulsed by the mere thought, I’d get even closer to the chef just to spite him.

“Apologies, Father, I’m on my way out to make up a test.”

Crue frowns.

Keeping his gaze straight ahead, my father lifts his head. “Why do you need to make it up? Did you miss class?”

The same time Crue says, “No, she didn’t,” I start to explain.

“During the test, I was starting a different project for my professor, Mrs. Flemming.” She still goes by Mrs. I’m not sure she was being honest when she told Crue she was getting divorced. “I’ll be working on the project the rest of the term, so I’ll be busy…a lot more.”

Crue’s frown deepens but he doesn’t question me.

“Would you like me to make you something to take with?” Ryan asks, leaning toward me enough that I have to lean, too—away from him.

“I don’t have much of an appetite this morning.” Especially not now.

The chef returns to his regular posture before twisting to address Crue.

“What about you, Mr.—”

I rush to add, “Mr. Brantley was just telling me he doesn’t either.”

One hand on the counter, I turn a nice big smile on my bodyguard.Contradict me publicly, I dare you.

“Are you sure? I can pack you both something for later,” Ryan offers.

Crue’s eyes drill into mine.

“That’s not necessary. We don’t want Miss Munreaux to be late.”

“No, we certainly don’t.”

I peer over at Ryan, finding him watching me while he sprinkles the chives on my father’s omelet, probably trying to figure out why I’m over here but not wanting to outright ask and draw attention to himself. He’s smart like that.

I need to be, too. Why would I approach him? Nothing other than food, that’s for damn sure.

“For tonight’s dinner, I’d like a steak salad,” I tell him.

Instead of saying, “It’d be my pleasure,” he just says, “Pleasure,” making me want to scream at the top of my lungs. I hate this manor and everyone in it.

I consider doing it.

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