Page 6 of My End
I kept my pace slow. Steady. Like I belonged here. Like I didn’t want to torch the whole damn mansion and take Boone and Gibbs with it.
I passed the formal dining room with the oversized table, ten-foot windows, and a centerpiece that probably cost more than a Harley. I figured that’s where dinner would be. Maybe they’d have some goon deliver food on a silver tray while Boone sat at the head like some corporate kingpin who glared at me with those soulless eyes.
But instead, the low hum of conversation and the smell of garlic and red sauce led me down a hallway to a different room.
The kitchen.
Bright and open. Marble counters. Huge island in the center. Stainless steel everything. You could run a five-star restaurant out of here. Maybe they did.
A woman sat at the island with her back to me. Her long, light brown hair was tied up in a messy bun that was probablyaccidental but looked perfect. She had curves—soft and real—as if she were made for comfort.
On the other side of the island stood a guy in a black apron, who wiped his hands on a towel slung over his shoulder.
“Hey!” the guy shouted when he saw me. “You must be the new blood. Come on in!”
I hesitated at the doorway. “Uh, yeah.”
“What’s your name?” he asked and was already reaching for a plate.
I almost said Stretch. It hovered on the edge of my tongue. Familiar and automatic, but I caught it just in time. “Jake. Jake Style.”
“Jake!” he boomed like we were old friends. “So good to meet you! I’m Adam. My job is to keep you guys fed.”
The woman lifted her hand without turning around and pointed at Adam. “And girls, too.”
Adam chuckled. “Of course, Tilly. My main mission is to keep you fed when you go off on one of your artistic jaunts where all you can do is paint and think of nothing else.”
She laughed. “Those artistic jaunts pay my bills, Adam. If they stop, so does my bank account.”
“And that’s why I kept you fed.” He winked and then looked back at me. “Come sit, Jake. You must be working the overnight shift if they told you to be here at six. Have a seat.”
He motioned to the stool next to her.
I scratched the back of my neck. “I’m okay to eat here?”
Adam looked around the room, with his arms wide like he was about to break into song. “Would you rather I serve you on the veranda?” he joked.
I held up my hands and grinned. “No, no. I just didn’t know if I was in the right place.”
That’s when the woman turned around.
Green eyes. Bright. Curious. Framed by full lips and an expressive face that didn’t hide a single emotion. She looked younger than I expected—late twenties, maybe—but she carried herself like she was older. “You’re in the right place,” she said. Her smile was easy. “Adam just likes to pull people’s legs.”
Adam pointed a spatula at her. “Now she is the one who’s in the wrong place. Boone would lose it if he knew you were down here eating with the help.”
Tilly rolled her eyes and turned back in her seat. “Boone needs to take a chill pill. What’s the point of you setting that huge-ass table for just me?” She popped a grape tomato into her mouth. “I’m more than okay eating my meals at the kitchen island with you keeping me entertained.”
Adam tipped an imaginary hat. “I aim to please, doll. Though I might have to ask Boone for a raise since I’m not only the chef but the entertainment.”
Tilly raised her fist in the air like a rebel. “Screw the man!”
That made me blink.
She didn’t act like someone terrified of Boone. Didn’t talk like someone waiting for a man to come downstairs and lord his power over her. She was comfortable here. Confident.
Which made it weird.
If Boone was so possessive and protective, why would he let his girl hang out in the kitchen with the staff?
