Duke-ing It Out by Jami Albright
Sienna
Kill me now. This is the most uncomfortable situation I’ve been in since I accidentally crashed the Duchess of York’s garden party after a night of partying at the local pub. “Honestly, it’s no trouble to stay at the B&B.”
“I won’t hear of it. You’ll stay right here. I can cook a breakfast just as good as Ruby Haney’s,” Duke’s mom says. She’s a beautiful woman, tall, with minimal wrinkles for someone in their fifties. Her hair is nearly the same inky black as her son’s, and they share the same deep green eyes.
I allow her to guide me to a bedroom. “If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
Patty leads me up the winding staircase to a pretty room done in yellows and blues. The white distressed furniture is cozy but elegant. There’s a chaise lounge next to a window that opens onto a balcony, and beyond the balcony is a pool and a lush backyard. A luxurious cream rug covers the light hardwood floor. It’s the perfect place for me to rest and recover for a few days. “This is lovely, Mrs. Blue.”
“Call me Patty.”
“Okay. This is lovely, Patty. Did you decorate it yourself?”
Patty shakes her head. “No, I wish I could take credit for the way the whole house looks, but that’s Phil all the way. I just don’t have an eye for those sorts of things, nor do I have the time.” She moves to flip on the light for the adjoining bath. “I swear, if it weren’t for Phil, all I’d do is work.”
“So that’s where Duke gets his drive.”
A shadow of something passes over her face, but then it’s gone as fast as it appeared. “No, Duke gets his … drive from his father. I love what I do, and I’m a people person, so my business fills my extrovert’s well, but I strive for work/life balance.”
“Duke mentioned that his father was a coach.”
The woman begins to fluff the pillows on the bed like it’s her job. “Mm-hmm.”
I may not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but I know evasion when I see it. I’ve made a career out of being evasive. Time for a subject change. I point to the bed. “Well, I appreciate your hospitality. I promise I won’t be in your hair for long.”
Patty leans her backside against a gorgeous armchair. “You want to talk about what you’re running from?”
I nearly choke on my own spit. “Why do you think I’m running?”
She taps her nose with her forefinger. “I have a nose for these things. Besides, Duke said to keep your identity secret. That screams running from something or somebody.”
I stare at the soft carpet. “Yes, well, I’d rather my dad not know where I am just yet.”
“Are you in danger?”
I raise my face to hers. “No, not at all. It’s just I need to figure out what comes next before I see him again. If that doesn’t make you uncomfortable.”
Patty laughs. “Girl, Duke weighed nearly eleven pounds. If I can handle that discomfort, I can handle a little thing like you needing a place to escape and get her head on straight.”
“That’s very nice of you.” I lift my bag to put on the bed, and pain slices into my side and back, stealing my breath. I wince, and the air being sucked through my teeth makes a whistling sound.
Patty’s at my side in an instant. “Are you alright, dear?”
“Yes, I’m fine. I have a back injury that is not playing nice with the rest of my body. I’ll be fine once I’ve had a shower and some pain relievers, and slide into this gorgeous bed.” I take her hand. “Truly, thank you for everything.”
“You’re most welcome, dear. Any friend of Duke’s is a friend of ours.”
It’s my turn to laugh. “I think friend is a strong word for what I am to Duke. More like a millstone around his neck.”
Patty begins to take the mountain of pillows from the bed, and I help. “I don’t believe that. He wouldn’t bring you to us if you weren’t a friend.” Her words are confident, but I see a pinch of doubt in the crease between her eyes.
“Does Duke come home often?” Yes, I’m fishing, but I love a good mystery.
“Oh, you know, not as often as we’d like.” She continues dismantling the pillow mountain and won’t meet my eyes.
“So not that much.” I don’t know why I say it. It’s certainly not my business.
She wordlessly shakes her head.
Suddenly I’m furious with the gorgeous idiot downstairs. How dare he hurt his mother like this. “I’m sorry, Patty. I’ve heard that boys—”
“It’s not because he’s a boy. It’s … well … the issue is deeper than that.” She drags a breath into her lungs and turns back the covers on the bed. “But no matter. It will work itself out. You’re here now, and we plan to give you a comfy place to recuperate.” She turns toward the bath. “Let me show you where everything is in the bathroom.”
It’s all I can do not to wrap her in a hug. Mothers are a tender issue for me. I know it, and I need to stay out of this situation.
I follow her and a little sound of pleasure escapes my lips when I see the claw-foot tub in the middle of the room. A shower is situated in the corner, surrounded by beveled glass. The antique vanity painted soft yellow with dark hardware and a beautiful oval mirror are situated next to an upright cupboard painted the same yellow as the vanity. White subway tile covers the floor and the walls. “Oh, this is …” I turn in a circle. “Amazing.”
Patty seems to have rebounded and smiles happily at me. “I’ll be sure to tell Phil how much you like it.”
I move to the tub and run my fingers over the old-fashioned knobs and spigot. “Please do. If I had a house, I’d want a bath just like this.”
“You don’t have a house?”
I give her a tight smile, then study the white porcelain retreat that I plan to spend some quality time in. “No, I travel—traveled so much that it never seemed like a good investment, since I was on the road all the time. But now …”
“Now, you can do whatever you want?”
A smile as big as the moon splits my face. I quit tennis. Such a weird thing, to think I can do anything I want. “Yes, yes, I can. And the first thing I’m going to do is soak in this tub until I look like a shar-pei puppy.”
Patty laughs. “Then you’ll need bubble bath, which is in this cabinet.” She motions to the cupboard beside the vanity. “Along with enough Patty Blue skin and hair care products to last you a long time.” She opens the cabinet and pulls out a couple of the fluffiest towels I’ve ever seen, and places them on the vanity.
“I really don’t know how to thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. Thank Duke.”
Ugh, that advice is a hard pill to swallow, but I plaster a smile on my face and say, “I will.”
“I’ll leave you to it. You help yourself to anything you need. Mi casa es tu casa.”
She leaves me alone to ponder the fact that the last home I had that really felt like a home was many, many years ago.