The Best Next Thing ((Un)Professionally Yours 1)

“You’ve clearly been ill and should stay out of the cold, wet weather.”

He felt his teeth clench as he fought the urge to tell her to mind her own damned business.

“No need to concern yourself with my health, Mrs. Cole. I know my limitations.”

His physician would get a hearty chuckle out of those words.

“Very well, sir. We’ll leave in half an hour.” The words were forced through tightly gritted teeth, and Miles bit back a grin. The prickly Mrs. Cole was proving to be unexpectedly entertaining. He didn’t respond and refocused his attention on his mouthwatering breakfast.

Fortunately, they left him to his silent enjoyment of the meal. A good thing since the delicious food soon rendered him incapable of coherent speech. He polished off his breakfast in no time and was tempted to ask for seconds but managed to restrain himself. He needed to gain weight and regain his strength, but overindulging could well see the pendulum swing in the other direction, especially since his exercise options were limited while he was still so weak.

He thanked Mrs. Cole quietly and got up.

“I’ll meet you in the garage,” he murmured, and left without further word. He had a bucket load of medication to take and would prefer not to have anyone witness that.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

Her employer’s voice held no inflection whatsoever, but Charity knew he wasn’t the slightest bit sorry that he had kept her and George cooling their heels for nearly fifteen minutes. She was riding shotgun in the massive SUV that was rarely used for anything other than shopping.

George leaped out of the car to open the sliding door with an obsequious little bow for their boss. The gesture looked vaguely sarcastic to Charity. She never could figure out the relationship between the two men. George didn’t seem nearly as deferential as he should, and Mr. Hollingsworth always seemed to tolerate it with gritted teeth and a stoicism that ran contrary to his usual assertiveness.

Mr. Hollingsworth took the seat behind hers, and the hairs at the back of Charity’s neck immediately stood on end. She should have anticipated this possibility and now regretted her decision to sit up front. Having someone directly behind her, close enough to sense but not see, made her feel horribly defenseless. She shifted her body to the right, ostensibly to face George in the driver’s seat, but really to keep Mr. Hollingsworth in her peripheral vision.

He had been behaving oddly all day. Mr. Hollingsworth was usually a creature of habit. And she had found his predictability comforting, but the unexpectedness of his demand for pancakes that morning had totally unnerved her, and she didn’t like it.

“Where are we headed??

? he asked, his voice curt.

“Knysna,” George responded cheerfully while clipping his seatbelt. “Buckle up, everybody.”

Charity was already belted in, and she knew the friendly reminder was for Mr. Hollingsworth, who hadn’t even attempted to reach for his seatbelt. An aggrieved look flashed across his face. The fleeting expression made his usually austere features boyishly petulant before it smoothed over and he assumed his usual façade of icy indifference.

He said nothing but found the belt and did as he was told.

Charity hid her smile behind a polite cough and fixed her eyes on George’s grizzled profile. The refreshingly frank man was in his mid-fifties, of medium height, and solidly built. His short, black hair was liberally sprinkled with salt, and he always sported a roguish silver stubble. His weathered, dark brown skin wrinkled attractively around his eyes and told the tale of a man who spent a great deal of time outdoors and who laughed frequently.

George lived in town and, though he didn’t have to, often popped in to check on Charity throughout the year. Especially during winter. He was contracted to do any driving errands she required of him, an amenity of which she made regular use.

Charity liked the blunt, no-nonsense man and felt safer when he was around. She regretted that he did not stay on the premises when the Hollingsworths were in residence. She always felt like George was in her corner, and it was such a comfort to have someone she could trust implicitly around. Especially when the Hollingsworths brought strangers on vacation with them.

After today—unless Mr. Hollingsworth needed George to take him somewhere—she and her employer would be alone. And the prospect of being alone with him all day, every day, filled her with dread.

“Why Knysna?” Mr. Hollingsworth asked, as George carefully navigated the dirt road toward the old, wooden bridge that led into town. “Riversend is closer.”

“Riversend’s supermarket may not have some of the ingredients I’ll need, they stock only the basics. Knysna has more variety.” Charity didn’t like explaining herself. He didn’t usually care about these things, trusting her to handle it efficiently. That’s what he paid her for.

“I told you, you don’t have to make any special effort on my behalf. If the weather is as unpredictable as you say, wouldn’t it be better not to chance the drive to Knysna? What if the bridge washes out before we get back? I say we go to Riversend and make do with what we can get from their local grocery store.”

Charity inhaled impatiently, counting silently to ten in German before pasting a fake smile on her lips and nodding.

“As you wish, sir,” she said, forcing the words out past the clenched teeth of her strained smile.

“I haven’t been to Riversend before,” he stated, leaning back—seemingly content now that he had gotten his way—and folding his arms across his chest. “We’ve always just passed through it on our way to Knysna or Plett.”

“Nothing much to see, really,” George weighed in on the conversation, more relaxed now that he had successfully reached the tarred road that led into town. “A few shops, one restaurant, one pub. And completely dead in winter.”

Charity felt that was an unfair assessment of the town George called home. It was quaint and while it was quiet—which she appreciated—it didn’t lack charm. The restaurant had changed management a year ago and was becoming quite popular with locals and tourists alike. Charity wasn’t one to eat out at all anymore, but she had heard about the splash it was making on the local scene. And it had been hard to miss how crowded it always was on her weekly forays into town.