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“Hm?”
This time, she didn’t look at me. Was she deflecting on purpose? “What does Duncan say about me?”
“Nothing of consequence, really. But the number of times your name is mentioned is telltale enough.” She winked.
“To you?”
“Not just to me. I hear him talk about you to his friends. He sure does think highly of you. Here. Eat up.”
“Thank you,” I said, slightly stunned.
Hisfriends? He talked about me to his friends? Like Maddox and Hawk?
I ate in a kind of daze, checking my phone and replying to texts from Sarah about Dad. So far, he was doing great. In fact, she said a few new nurses would be coming in to trade out times to oversee his care.
Before I knew it, my plate was clear, my belly full. Neither state, however, had any bearing over the disbelief still raking over me.
Pat had left the kitchen, though I could still hear her humming somewhere nearby. Chuckling, I took my plate to the sink, rinsed it, and loaded it in the dishwasher.
She had to know more than she let on. Pat had the intelligent kind of mischievous look that told me she was hiding something, and I was beyond eager to know what more it was.
She said she’d worked for him for ten years now. That meant she probably had all the dirt on him. I was ready to probe, to bribe her if necessary, though what I’d give I couldn’t think. I doubted she was interested in editing or my organizational skills.
These thoughts dripped away the minute I turned around. Duncan had stepped into the kitchen. And he was no longer in the jeans and jacket he’d been wearing earlier.
He killed it in a dark suit.
The black fabric emphasized his shoulders. His blue, button-up shirt was a splash of color behind the gray tie he was in the process of adjusting after catching a glimpse of it in his reflection in the cupboard’s glass door, and his slacks emphasized the length of his legs. A soft hint of cologne wafted toward me, taking what was left of my breath and apparently my sanity, since all I could do was stare.
This was ridiculous. I’d seen him in suits plenty of times before this. What was my problem?
Hewas my problem. It was all him, no matter what he wore.
I attempted to play off the effect he had over me. “What are you all dressed up for?”
He wiggled the knot on his tie. “I’m meeting with the owner of that property today, and you need to?—”
I quirked a brow and folded my arms.
He grimaced. “I mean, I’dlikefor you to come with me. How do you feel about seeing Eureka Springs? It’s replete with those old homes you love.”
“I thought we already went to Eureka Springs.”
“Not exactly. You haven’t been to the actual town. It’s quite the sight. What do you say?”
I reached into the cupboard and retrieved a glass, setting it down on the counter. Though Pat had made me breakfast, I hadn’t had anything to drink.
“Why exactly do you needmewhile you meet with this realtor?”
Something flashed across his eyes, but it was gone so quickly, I probably made it up.
“It’s your job,” he reminded me. “You’re here to be my assistant and assist me, remember?”
There was more to it. He’d occasionally expected me to be there during his other business deals, but often, when I hadn’t been in the room, I’d found out after the fact what he’d needed me to do.
“What do you possibly need assistance with? You’re a brilliant businessman—I’ve seen you close deal after deal on multiple investments. You’ve never needed me for anything other than to run your errands and keep track of the paperwork.”
His voice perked up, and he opened his hands to me. “Exactly. I might need you to bring one of those files you’re so fond of. You know, put papers and stuff in it.”
