So instead, I keep my eyes forward and let myself into my room before I can do anything stupid. Once the door is shut, I lean against it and take out my phone. Pulling up the text thread with Beau, I shoot him a quick message.
Larkin: Shit went down with the Chance family. Be prepared.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
FORD
“Larkin!” Mom shouts, pulling her into a hug, bypassing me in the hallway of my childhood home. I bump into the wall as my mom gushes over my assistant.
Even though I want to be insulted, I get it. It’s not the first time she’s chosen to hug Larkin first, and I’m sure it won’t be the last either.
“You’ve been here for a week, and we haven’t seen you yet—do you not like us anymore?” Mom asks, still squeezing Larkin tightly.
“It’s not by my doing,” Larkin says, her voice muffled by my mom’s shoulder. “Your son has been bogarting me. Take your complaints up with him.”
My mom lets Larkin go from her bear hug but doesn’t let her get far as she reaches down and holds her hand. Yeah, if Larkin was anybody else, they’d probably be reporting us to human resources in a second, but not Larkin. According to my parents, she’s a part of this family, and it didn’t take my parents very long to stake such a claim on her. Dad remembered her from visiting the store so much, and Mom was immediately charmed by Larkin’s smile. It’s pretty much impossible to keep it professional with Larkin where my family is concerned.
“Oh, I’ve been letting him know how unhappy I am that he’s secluding you in the bed-and-breakfast. Did you know I told him you two should stay here? I even offered up his bed for you, but he denied that request faster than I could ask.”
“What? He didn’t tell me that,” Larkin says, giving me a suspicious look. “You know the breakfast would be a thousand times better here.” Suck-up. I hold back my smirk.
“That is precisely what I told him, but he decided to deny you my pancakes. The nerve.”
“Larkin will survive,” I say.
But, of course, Larkin plays along and drapes the back of her hand over her forehead. “I won’t. He has me living on kale smoothies.”
“Preposterous. Is that what you had this morning?”
She nods. “Forced it down my throat via straw.”
“Way to be dramatic,” I say, rolling my eyes and making my way to the kitchen.
“It was horrible. He said, ‘Drink this or you’re fired,’” Larkin drones on as they follow closely behind.
“You poor dear. Shall I make you some scones while you’re here?”
“Oh, you don’t have to, but if you do, you know I’ll eat them.”
As I enter the kitchen, I spot Palmer at the kitchen table hovering over a bowl of Froot Loops, head down and giving off a “stay the hell away” vibe. She glances in my direction, her face completely emotionless, and I realize our spat from yesterday has not simmered. It’s still full-on boiling.
Why did I think she wasn’t going to be here? From the look on her face, she wasn’t expecting me to show up either. She drops her spoon in her bowl and pushes away from the table before standing and bringing her bowl to the sink. She sidesteps me and heads toward the hallway, where she runs into Mom and Larkin.
“Palmer, hi,” Larkin says in a cheery tone. “How’s your wrist?”
“Broken,” Palmer answers flatly as she pushes past them and heads toward the stairs, her irritation in full bloom.
“Don’t worry about her,” Mom says. “She’s been cranky lately. I think she’s missing her friends in New York.”
“Then why doesn’t she go home?” I ask, casually.
“I think she’s working on some sort of travel thing about Washington, but then again, she hasn’t done much since she’s been here.” Yeah, the PNW thing she’s mentioned, but not a single person has seen her work on it, which only helps confirm my suspicion that there’s more to her story. “Can’t be quite sure with that girl; just glad she’s here.” Mom clutches Larkin’s hand to her chest. “Can I have a few minutes with Larkin before you make her do whatever she’s here to do?”
“Clean my room,” I answer.
Mom’s brow pulls together in distaste. “Excuse me? She’s here to clean your room? Oh no, sir, that will not be happening. Have you lost your mind? She’s your assistant, not your maid.”
“I offered to help,” Larkin says kindly.