Page 3 of On Thin Ice

He’d done a good job keeping up, wiping off the last plate with the now-damp towel. I picked up the dish drainer, tilting it over the sink so the water would pour out, and dabbed it dry before putting it back where I’d found it. “Thanks for your help.”

“I could say the same thing.”

There was an awkwardness between us that was palpable, and all I wanted to do was get back to my room and take a shower. I planned to spend some time on one of the patios reading a book, settling on the east side where there were more flowers. But before I could wish him a good day, he said, “Why don’t we take a walk?”

“Right now?”

“Sure. Walk off breakfast—and before it gets too hot out. If you wanted to change first…”

I was already wearing sneakers, having discovered early on that the marble and stone floors in a temperature-controlled house were chilly under bare feet. It wasn’t so bad in my room since I had rugs on the floor, but out here, I always wore shoes. And part of me was surprised my clothing choices, including shoes, hadn’t been part of my contract. “No. This is fine…if you don’t mind being seen in public with me wearing sweatpants.”

He actually laughed, and I tried not to love the way it made his eyes crinkle. “That’s honest running gear—but I promise not to make you run.”

We left the kitchen and were soon in the antechamber. Before he opened the door, he lifted the cover of a keypad that I’d never noticed before, because it blended in with the wall beside the door. After he punched a few buttons, he held the door open for me. Although it was still early, the air was warm and smelled good, and I was glad I’d said yes. I only hoped he would enjoy the relative silence like I was.

Silent here was not the same as silence in Winchester, however. Both places had the same sounds of birds, of course—but in the distance, I could hear the constant hum of traffic. That sound—one of vehicles cruising over asphalt—was ubiquitous here and, even though I didn’t spend much time outside, I’d already grown used to it, like how you tune out the sound of a refrigerator in the house.

Still, it was quite peaceful and, as we began walking down the block, I took in my surroundings. While the Whittier home was the biggest and most magnificent, it was not the only mansion in the area. Every home seemed as if it were in competition with its neighbors—not just the homes themselves, but the perfectly manicured lawns and shrubbery, carefully tended flowers and ornaments, not a stone or a leaf out of place. Most of the homes were brick in various shades and hues, but no one would mistake these places as belonging to anyone but one of the wealthiest people in this part of Denver.

It was a neighborhood of people just like the Whittiers.

Before I could muse on it any longer, Sinclair began talking, just as we got to the end of the block. “I wanted to apologize to you.”

My mind wrapped around his statement, and part of me wanted to ask which infraction he was feeling sorry about—but we’d had a pleasant enough morning so far and I didn’t want to ruin it. “For what?”

Like me, he kept his eyes forward as we crossed the street. “I…knew Danny had a reputation for getting a little handsy with women—and I’d seen him push his luck once or twice. Not anything egregious…but I should have nipped it in the bud from the first time I’d heard whispers. But I refused to believe the rumors, thinking they were just exaggerations, especially because no one had complained to me, even when I asked them directly. And Danny was such a great employee, able to get other organizations and families to open their wallets wide and contribute to the foundation—and I thought, surely a man this good with people wouldn’t be predatory.” He was silent for a few moments and I didn’t feel like filling the gap. “Obviously, I was wrong. And that’s part of why I wanted to apologize. I put you in harm’s way when I should instead be ensuring your safety, especially in the privacy of my home.”

“It’s not like you’re my bodyguard.”

“No, but I made it worse by making you wear that costume last night.”

Costume? Before questioning that word, though, I realized that I had him at an advantage. For once, the tables were turned, and I tried to remember the Employer Obligations clauses in the contract. I was pretty sure there wasn’t anything in it about guaranteeing my safety and, even if there had been, what good would it have done me? Did I have legal recourse over any clause he breached?

Even if I did, it wasn’t like I had a lawyer to call.

But I did sense I had a little leverage, especially in regard to the uniform I’d worn the night before that didn’t look like any other server’s clothing. “What was that all about anyway?”

He let out a sigh so heavy, it would have been audible to someone sitting on the ostentatious porch of the home we were walking past. “Lots of things. One was to remind you that I’m the boss.”

“That hadn’t escaped me.”

“And I wanted to see you in it.”

A lump formed in my throat. Between this admission and the kiss last night, there was no denying he felt the same way about me that I did about him. Did he also struggle with how wrong it was?

And why did that sometimes make me even more desirous of him?

“I suppose I need to apologize for that as well. But what happened last night will never happen again. I don’t just mean what I did—but I’m not going to hold the quarterly meetings here anymore.” As we continued walking, I realized he was actually saying he was sorry. After several more silent steps, he said, “Please tell me the truth. Did I get there in time? You said he didn’t hurt you other than your arms, but I need to know if you’re just not saying anything for fear of retribution.”

“I told you: all he hurt was my arms.”

“And psychologically?”

“I’ll be okay,” I said. If Sinclair hadn’t shown up when he had, I might have felt differently, but his appearance had made all the difference. In a way, he’d been my knight in shining armor, there to rescue me from the dragon. Had he not been there, the entire thing might have felt traumatic.

“Sometimes it takes time—so if you later feel like he did hurt you, please tell me.”

“He didn’t hurt me,” I said, carefully keeping the tone of my voice as calm as a summer lake. “But you did.”

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