The Boyfriend Gambit by Elle Keaton

Author:Elle Keaton [Keaton, Elle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dirty Dog Press LLC

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Prosser is nice enough these days, not the dirty beatdown farm town of my very young days. The wine industry discovered the small town and the fertile land surrounding it, and has brought new wealth and economic opportunity along with it. I keep expecting memories to assail me like boogeymen, but they don’t. Prosser is just a town now and the people here who knew me have gone. The retail spaces along Main Street are filled with tasting rooms, quaint souvenir shops, specialty delis, even a toy store. The tension I’ve been feeling, and trying to hide, slowly starts to release.

The address we’re headed to turns out to be a large farmhouse dating to probably the 1930s. I don’t think I’ve ever been to this side of town—all nice with tidy lawns and well-kept houses. This particular property has an expansive front yard surrounded by a split rail fence along which fairy lights have been strung, sparkling against the late fall evening. It’s only three in the afternoon but the day is already darkening.

“What do you know about this person?” I should have asked him before, but he took my advice and we quietly enjoyed the ride, only stopping again in Ellensburg for more coffee—where, apparently, we could’ve have gotten a discount if we’d been wearing plaid because it turns out that is a thing there on the Friday after Thanksgiving.

“Benzoin only told me they are a distant relative of Beatrice Wood and that’s how come they have this tea pot. He doesn’t like to share details, he just likes to prove he’s the boss.”

A curtain at the front of the house twitches. The mysterious donor has noted our arrival.

“Do you want me to wait in the car?” I ask. “I don’t exactly look like a museum curator.”

Charley’s gaze roves over my body, a glance heated enough to make my skin tingle. “If they ask, I’ll just say you’re my bodyguard.”

My body has no business reacting the way it does. I will guard Charley’s person anytime he needs, and the rest of him too. Charley climbs out while I take a moment to adjust myself. He waits impatiently for me to join him, raising an imperial blond eyebrow when I finally get out and hurry to his side.

The front door opens just as we step onto the wraparound porch and an elderly woman smiles out at us. She doesn’t seem familiar to me, and I release a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. Her short hair is completely white and her shoulders are stooped, but her sharp blue eyes tell me she hasn’t lost a step.

“You must be here about the teapot. I’m surprised you made it today. Come on in. Oh, I forgot to introduce myself—I’m terrible about that. Louise always did say I needed a minder.” She offers her hand to Charley. “Frankie Tuttle.”

“Charley Hunter,” Charley says, “and this is my friend, Simon Ellison.”

Inquisitive blue eyes land on me. Panic rises again but I force it down.

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