Page 13 of The Oscar Escape
“You’re drifting.”
He rolled the smoke between his fingers and put up his defenses. “Maybe I’m a drifter.”
“Something happened, Oscar. You weren’t always like this. What made you so restless? This has been going on for a while. I still can’t figure out why you left college only to enroll in culinary school and then drop out six months later.”
His stomach tightened into a knot. “My dad is a legendary chef, and Charlotte is an acclaimed photographer. I grew up surrounded by cooking tutorials and the art of capturing a subject. I don’t need to waste money on some piece of official university-endorsed paper,” he shot back, trying to play it off. Too bad he sounded more like a whiny teenager.
“Does it have to do with your mom?”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. He wasn’t about to get into that—not with Inez—not while he already had too much on his mind.
A chilly breeze picked up as he tapped the ashes out the window and peered into a nearby alleyway. “Why did anything have to happen? Maybe I’m just not cut out to stay in one place.”
“Fair enough. But as someone who guided many successful careers, I’ll give you this advice.” Inez paused. “It’s okay to move around when you’re following your passion. But it’s an entirely different ball game to flit from here to there because you’re running from your demons. Take it from me, kid. One way or another, they always catch up with you.”
The knot in his stomach tightened.
“What is this? A therapy session?”
Inez didn’t reply.
He rubbed the muscles at the base of his neck. “I’m not running. I’m working,” he answered, hating that his response had a hollow ring to it. “And what do I have to escape? I’m six four and built like a linebacker. I’m not scared of anything.” He knew damned well that wasn’t what she was alluding to, but he couldn’t come up with anything better.
“Are you smoking again?” she asked in a tone that said she knew the answer.
Shit!He ground out what was left of the cigarette in a to-go box. “No.”
“Mm-hmm,” Inez hummed.
He stared at a stream of cars passing by and didn’t utter a word. Better to say nothing than keep digging that hole.
“I’d like to discuss something else with you,” she added, her tone softening.
“Okay.”
“The Telluride house is under contract, Oscar.”
He glanced at the pack of smokes on the dash, wishing like hell he could light up.
“It’s as good as sold. The buyers agreed to the asking price. I’m still surprised you asked me to put it on the market.”
He pictured a gravel drive winding up to a cabin nestled in a blanket of evergreens. He could hear the splash of rocks dancing across the creek and feel the coolness of the stones against his palm. He recalled the hum of his Polaroid camera as he snapped shots of carpenter ants and mule deer hiding among the aspen trees that graced the slopes of the mountainous terrain.
And then he heard a voice.
Oscar, sweetheart, your grilled cheese sandwich is ready. I made it with apple butter the way you like it.
He swallowed past the emotion in his throat. “It’s just a house. It’s been empty for years.”
“It was where you lived with your mom.”
He hardened his heart. “She’s been gone a long time. And . . . it wasn’t the only place that was special to us.”
Why the hell had he said that last part? Perhaps it had to do with his current location.
He exhaled a jittery breath. Adrenaline pumped through his veins. If he didn’t have to stay in the shadows, he’d happily join Inez in knocking out a marathon. “Do I need to do anything with the sale? Sign anything?” he mumbled, then glanced at his laptop and refreshed the page, sharpening his focus on his covert project.
“That’ll come later. A couple wants to purchase it. I believe the realtor mentioned they wanted a place in Colorado. You’re making quite a bit of money. One point five million, to be exact. For that chunk of change, you could settle down and get yourself a bachelor pad just about anywhere.”
