Page 40 of Unspoken Promises

Julia is wide-eyed and impressed.

“Let me guess,” Rio says, “she was an art dealer. Twenty-something? Blonde…”

“She was brunette,” Santi corrects, leaning back in his seat, with a shit-eating grin. “And buying the painting was worth it.” He counteracts what we’re all thinking. “It looks amazing over my mantelpiece.”

Just then, the doorbell rings.

“Ah, that’ll be your dad.” Julia claps her hands together. “Be right back. Go on, Zo. Sit. Take a load off.”

Rio taps his fingers on the table. “Glad Dad decided to come. He’s been getting on all right?”

“As far as I can see,” Santi comments. “He rode Ginger a couple of times and spends quite a lot of time at the stablesasking if there’s anything he can do to help. And he seems to have made a new friend…”

In the background, Julia’s voice sings out, “Ah… Ava… glad to see you here, too.”

Santi tips his head. “Speak of the devil.”

Rio’s sarcasm doesn’t escape me. “Wow. Living on our land. Hanging with Luis. The woman got acclimatized fast.”

Only this time, unlike previously, it doesn’t sit right with me that he speaks of her with suspicion. Not that I know everything about Ava, but I know more, and what I do has brought out a protective side of me. She doesn’t deserve to be looked at like that anymore. The woman needs our help.

He’s going to go apeshit when I tell him.

My dad trails Julia into the kitchen.

“We were just at the bookstore arranging a night for my book club with James, and it didn’t feel right to send Ava home to her ramen noodles.” He looks back at her and chuckles.

When Ava walks in, chairs screech along the floor as we were taught to stand when you greet someone.

She slaps my dad’s arm playfully like they’ve known each other for years. “Hey, I made us a damn good spaghetti yesterday.”

My dad nods. “Not bad for a first try.”

Ava, looking beautiful with her hair swept off her neck in a top knot, gives a friendly wave from behind him. She’s not wearing her hoodie today, not even draped off her lithe and perfect shoulders. She just has on one of those loose and low-cut tank tops that hang seductively off the ends of her perky tits. She’s more delicious than anything else on offer here tonight. In fact, it’s getting harder and harder to concentrate each time I see her. She always wears the samethings, and yet each time they seem more tailored to her curves.

Julia rushes to the stovetop and stirs a pot where the scent of black licorice fills the room, and I know her famous fennel soup is for starters.

“More the merrier. I never did learn how to tone down cooking from eight people to one. I’ll be sending you all home with doggy bags even with the unexpected guest. Everyone is welcome here.” She wipes her hands off on her skirt apron. “Go on and sit. Soup’s ready.”

We all take our seats around one end of Julia’s long farmhouse table. Ava sits next to me, and the scent of that men’s cologne of hers washes over me. It’s strange how good it smells on her. I know a lot of redheads don’t get along with the heat, and she’s no exception, so her walk here in the sunshine warmed the woody scent and makes the masculine perfume sweet. Maybe it’s her deodorant. But I love her smell. This week while working, I found myself leaning closer than necessary when she wanted me to see discoveries on her screen.

She offers a shy smile as she inches her chair closer to the table, and for some reason, I wish we were still at the table in the offices above the stables.

Julia pours out bowls of soup, as is the traditional first course when we come to hers. She places one on each placemat then sits down. I’m starving after skipping lunch, and Ava is, too, I imagine. She wastes no time grabbing her spoon. Without even thinking, I put my hand on her wrist to stop her.

Sparks fly up my arm and drop right back down again through every nerve in my body, and they’re clearly being reminded of the night I tended to her. Flashes of her milky skin run through my mind as our gazes meet. I’m sure it isn’tlong that my fingers are wrapped around her delicate bones, but it’s long enough for me to see her eyebrows rise over those golden-brown eyes of hers and for her lips to part in surprise.

I pull my hand away and still feel her warmth on my palm.

I clear my throat. “Ava can’t have nuts.” I swallow hard, but not hard enough to feel heat creeping up my neck. Thank God I don’t go red.

Julia’s smile is wry and aimed right at me. “Well, luckily there’s nothing of the sort in the soup or main course.” She turns her grin on Ava. “Unfortunately, I used almond meal in the dessert.”

I steal another glance at Ava whose eyes meet mine briefly before giving me a thin-lipped smile and picking up her spoon again. She sits up straighter, and her shoulders ease back, her tits pushing out in some sort of goddess-like silhouette. We need to work separately for a few days. This is not good.

Ava already knows so much more about how vulnerable GhostEye is. I’m getting a clue as to how vulnerable she is, too. Feelings have no place in solving these problems. Feelings have no place in this situation period. She works for me and is a hell of a lot younger, even if we weren’t about to navigate a shitstorm together.

The room fortunately soon buzzes again with comfortable conversation. Compliments over the following dishes Julia so lovingly put together and shoot-the-shit catch-ups. We see each other often, and yet so much seems to happen in between. We finish the main course, and my dad gets up to help clear the plates.

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