11. Kitty

11

KITTY

S leep was rough. Arriving back at the manor had been a whirlwind, especially when my parents arrived. While I’d expected them to be shaken up about the invasion of the protestors, I hadn’t anticipated them bringing the meeting back to our home to finish it up. It felt like a slap in the face after all my effort.

There had been a few tense moments when I was sure Rook would shop me in for helping the protestors, but to my surprise, he remained quiet. He didn’t say a word about it, but the knot of tension it left in my gut stayed with me all through a restless night's sleep.

I woke with a crick in my neck and a strange ache in my lower back from my constant tossing and turning. Lying in bed, I stared up at the ceiling and ran through the events from the day before. It was hardly a success if the meeting had concluded here after all that ruckus, and clearly, the presence of the protestors did nothing to make my father rethink his stance on this highway.

Was I fighting a losing battle?

Was there really no way to stop this? I felt like I was alone, fighting against a growing mudslide that was utterly unaffected by my efforts to stop it. No matter how I tried, my father didn’t care. And my mother was so in her own world that as long as the Yuletide Ball went ahead, she didn’t care either.

Strangely, I didn’t blame my mother as much. All my life, she had been endearing but somewhat… floaty. As if she were in her own wee world and only visited ours on occasion. I doubted she had much sway with my father when it came to business.

Part of me wanted Rook to tell the truth. Maybe that would be shocking enough to finally derail my father. At this point, I would try anything new because I was running out of ideas.

After a long shower to repeat those thoughts running through my mind, I headed down to breakfast with a dejected weight in my heart. Rerunning everything hadn’t brought me any closer to a solution, and I was pretty much out of ideas.

The house was quiet. I passed a few of the morning staff and greeted them with smiles, but I didn’t see anyone else until I reached the kitchen. Rook was standing at the far end near the coffee maker, his head tilted down and his attention fixed on the timer as it slowly ticked down.

“Fresh coffee?” I asked softly, admiring the way his back straightened and he turned to look at me. God, his olive eyes made me melt a little inside every time I saw them. We stared at each other for a few long moments of silence. Was he admiring me as much as I was admiring him?

Or was he debating when to tell the truth?

“Yes,” Rook replied finally. “You want some?”

“Please.”

Rook turned back to the machine, and I moved toward the opposite counter. Two slices of wheat toast slid into the toaster, and as I pressed the button, Rook had my attention once more. From here, I could smell his familiar scents of basic soap and coffee, but they were comforting scents.

When we’d been interrupted in the safe house, I’d spent a few minutes breathing him in from the pillow.

“Did you sleep well?” I asked, seeking to end the silence that only contained the soft whirr of the machine.

“Yes.” Rook’s head bobbed. “You?”

“Not even a little.” I sighed softly and slid one hand to the back of my neck. Applying gentle pressure, I kneaded my fingers back and forth along the stiffness. “You know when you’re trying to sleep for so long but it doesn’t really work out that way, so you just get snatches of sleep that don’t even feel like sleep? You just glance at the clock and see twenty, thirty minutes have passed.”

Rook turned to face me again. “To an extent.”

“That was me last night.” My head fell forward, and I groaned. “All my muscles feel twisted up the wrong way.”

“I’d ask if there was anything on your mind,” Rook said as his presence forced a warm wall behind me, “but we both know the answer to that.”

Before I can say anything in response, he moves my hand away from the back of my neck and places both of his there instead. A delighted shiver wormed its way down my spine and I placed both my hands on the countertop.

Without a word, Rook took over the massage of my stiff neck, and he was much more skilled than I was. His fingertips pressed deep in a slow, rhythmic manner. As his fingertips rolled, his palms followed and he worked swiftly but firmly along the back of my neck and then down both sides to the juncture of my shoulders.

Whether it was his touch or his presence, I couldn’t tell, but it was amazing . Tension eased away like a wave, and my shoulders dropped down an inch as relaxation swept through my muscles. His thumbs pressed from the tops of my shoulders down to the curve of my blades and then stroked back up. From there, the size of his large hands clasping my shoulders was enough to send a fizzing thrill of excitement right down to my core.

Was it appropriate of me to think of him shoving me down onto this counter and fucking me? No, but I was going to do it, anyway.

The moment was broken sharply by my toast popping back into existence, and Rook retracted his hands. Just in time, too, as not half a second later, the kitchen door swung open and in walked one of the staff. He glanced at the two of us with a polite smile, grabbed something from one of the cupboards under the sink, and left.

In his absence, I realized my heart was pounding. Was that from Rook’s touch or nearly getting caught? I might have confessed some feelings, but we hadn’t discussed how to make sure Rook kept his job other than a quiet understanding not to get caught. Not yet.

“Are you going to talk to my father?” I asked softly, placing my toast down on a wooden board as the coffee machine beeped its completion song.

“About?” Rook asked, busying himself with two mugs.

“About yesterday. What I… told you.” I had to ask him. As relaxed as his brief massage made me, it did nothing to soothe the anxious knot in my gut. I needed to know if Rook was on my side.

The coffee mugs clinked, and the machine beeped a new tune as Rook removed the coffee pot and began filling our mugs.

“No,” he replied once the coffee reached the brim of each cup. “I won’t tell him.”

“Why not?” I couldn’t look at him as I quizzed him, too unsure of what I would see on his face. Instead, I focused on buttering my toast and seeking out some raspberry jelly to sweeten my breakfast.

“Because, Kitty, you are my charge. My job is to protect you in any way that you might need protection. That doesn’t just cover crazy townspeople in the street. That includes anything at home that might cause you harm.” Rook moved beside me and set a steaming cup of coffee just next to the wooden board. “You are my charge. I was serious about that when I took this job. I won’t be telling him because you don’t want me to, and I’m not entirely convinced that it would be a safe thing to do.”

I finally lifted my head and stared into his gorgeous olive eyes. “You think it would put me in danger if my father knew?”

“Maybe. All I know is that the act of telling your father would cause you harm and I don’t want to do that. Not just because of my job.” His lips twitched slightly, and I was locked in the intensity of his gaze. “So my silence is yours.”

“Thank you,” I breathed out. “I was so worried that you would… well, he pays you, so I thought that’s where your true loyalty would lie.”

“We would not have done what we did if that were the case.” Rook’s face softened slightly, and he looked more like the version of him that had rocked my world. I liked that version the best.

“And if I do more things with that group?” I asked, lowering my voice. “Is your silence guaranteed?”

“Yes, until there is a point when my silence is harmful,” Rook said. “And I was thinking about your predicament.”

“My predicament?” I picked up a slice and took a bite, savoring the sweetness of the jelly mixing with the saltiness of the butter.

“What you attempted yesterday and the rather surprising lack of effect it had.”

I snorted. “That’s my dad. A hurricane could blow through here, and as long as his stocks are safe, he wouldn’t notice.”

Rook nodded, then with his mug in hand, he tilted his head toward the glass double doors leading to the garden. Taking the hint, I gathered my own mug and followed him outside while enjoying my toast. It was a brisk morning outside, with winter frost clinging to every blade of grass and surviving plant that the eye could see.

Still no snow. We were in December now, and the snow was somehow a distant thought.

“What if the answer to saving the town lies within the town?” Rook asked. He stamped his feet slightly against the frosty ground as if fighting the bitter cold.

I quite liked it. “What do you mean?”

“Helping outside protesters is one thing, but out of the people I saw yesterday, there were very few I recognized from town. I don’t know how Anton organizes these things, but there didn’t seem to be many townspeople.”

I frowned and took a welcome sip of my hot coffee. “I’m not sure.”

“So, what if you took a different approach? The people who live here are the ones directly affected by this change. Business will close, tourist foot traffic will dry up, people’s homes face the risk of flooding and more when more of the forest comes down.”

“What are you getting at?” I asked as Rook listed out everything I had already thought of.

“Your mother’s Yuletide Ball.” Rook looked at me and held my gaze. “What if you changed the guest list?”

“The guest list…” Each year, I had to smile politely at strangers with more money than sense—people who flashed the cash and had no problem turning a beautiful tourist town into a gas station stop. “You mean invite everyone from town?”

“Correct. As I understand it, that’s how the ball used to be held, correct?”

I nodded. “Yes. It was a bit of a free for all, with a few VIP tickets just to raise a bit of cash either for the community center or a charity. You know, if we still did things that way, we would have raised money for Melanie’s barn.” Just thinking of how that great place now lay in ruins broke my heart a little.

“Do you think your mom could be persuaded? A return to old roots. You could spin it as a last hurrah before the change if she’s unwilling, but maybe having those people here will have the bigger impact. In my experience, people often get away with things because they avoid being around those actually affected. If they don’t look their victims in the eye, then they can pretend everything is fine.”

“You want me to shove the town in my father’s face?” I asked as the plan quickly formed in my mind. It was kind of brilliant.

“Exactly. It might work, it might not, but it’s worth a try, wouldn't you say?”

“Oh, Rook, that’s brilliant!” I bounced up onto the balls of my feet, sloshing some coffee over the edge of my mug. “And if I get a handful of people on board before I ask my mom, I bet she would say yes. She is kind of weak to peer pressure.”

“Do you have anyone in mind?” Rook asked, and a small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth when I grabbed his arm.

“We have to talk to Melanie!”