Page 27 of Guarded Knight

The stable hand laughs. “Not this one, but it’s a question worth asking.” She darts her gaze over to Gabriel, as if to ask if he’s going to introduce us.

“Freya, this is my brother, Santi’s, girlfriend, Kat.”

Wow. Santi settled down? She must be something else. Suddenly, she’s gone from a stable hand to being a boss bitch in my estimation. I didn’t think that guy would settle down any more than I’d thought he’d make it to his thirties.

“Kat, this is Lara,” he points to me, “and her roommate, Freya. They’re in Echo Valley for a bit.”

“Nice to meet you.” Kat flicks one of thosethis is interestinglooks at Gabriel then clicks her horse back into walk. “I need to get Fuego out, but don’t be strangers.”

She leads the horse off, and a low chuckle behind me pulls my gaze to the door of the office building, where familiar broad shoulders, rolled-up sleeves, and fuck-you tats on thick forearms greet me.

Rio Mendez almost grins, though I’m not sure his lips ever curve upward enough to surpassalmost. “Lara Young. Haven’t seen you since you were what… seventeen? Eighteen?”

“In the flesh.” I rock on my heels, letting my nervousness get to me for the first time since landing in Echo Valley. Rio has that effect on people.

He sips from a steaming mug. “You look healthy. It’s great to see.”

Rio has always been blunt, cutting, even. But in this case, it warms me to him. I don’t like people skirting around the fact that I have a life-limiting disease, pretending it’s not there, as if that’s somehow going to make it disappear. Not that I want to talk about it all the time either. I’d rather they point out how great it is to still be alive, simple and to the point, like Rio.

“Yeah,” I shove my hands in my back pockets. “Surviving has been my greatest rebellion.”

Later in the office,I should be focused on my work, but instead, all day has been a wash. I haven’t gotten much done. Too many distractions.

Too many glances from those hooded eyes and heat on my back, my cheek, and if I’m not mistaken, Gabriel has had his gaze elsewhere, too.

And I can’t say I’ve kept mine to myself when I thought he wasn’t looking.

I wish we could just touch each other already and get this attraction, tension… whatever out of the way, but it doesn’t work like that.

I’d have been better off crammed at the baby table in our apartment, sipping lukewarm coffee and tuning out the world.

The office at Monarch Hills is admittedly gorgeous and smells faintly of leather, coffee, and cedar. Everything about it feels like a Western boardroom: wide boardroom table made of reclaimed oak, iron light fixtures, and enough cowboy flair to remind you this isn’t some sleek corporate suite in a tower downtown. There are also several desks, two of which Gabriel and Rio have claimed as their own.

I guess Enzo and Ava have left for their Tahitian vacation. She was so cute when she told me about their trip at book club, and I never thought of it until she said, but it’s true, Tahiti kind of does sound like a fictional place, like Timbuktu. Which I only learned yesterday, is in Mali.

Distracted again…

Freya, on the other hand, is happy as a clam. Her papers and pens are sprawled out on the opposite end to me at the long table, doing her thing.

Crap. I need to focus so I can get to the bottom of this Scarlet Hope expenditure issue. I picked up on the problem about a month ago when I started writing a bi-monthly donor newsletter to inform our donors where money was being spent. Accountability is huge, but people are motivated to continue donating where they’re certain it’s money well spent.

But for my first newsletter, I found a huge amount of funds were transferred to another charity I didn’t recognize, and I had no idea what they did with the money. I called the charity and got the runaround. When I asked Kevin, he didn’t try too hard to find out.

Then, it happened again mid-month. Same thing, different charity.

And now, it’s my third newsletter where I’m making up stories about where our donors’ money is being spent.

I need to focus because I no longer think this is slow communication on the part of the charities. My gut tells me something much bigger is wrong. That maybe even, Kevin is involved.

But every time I try to focus, Gabriel shifts… like now. He stands, and I work hard to look at my computer rather than him, but my screen is a blur.

He passes behind me, and the air stirs as if made of something heavier and softer than it was before he entered my space.

One second of nearness, and I lose track of my spreadsheet.

I pull up this quarter’s budgets and start clicking through data beyond when I first noticed the problem. At first glance, everything looks polished. Professional. But when I drill deeper into last quarter’s payments out, my pulse kicks.

Much more money has poured into other charities than I ever knew. Sure, they are nonprofits, but there’s not much due diligence, receipts, or any real reports of what they’ve spent the money on flowing back our way. Surely Kevin would require these charities to clearly state what they spent the money on.