The Cynic and the Wolf by Julie Steimle (first e reader .TXT) 📖

for another minute then shook it off with whatever thought was going on in his head, going back to what he was originally thinking. With all his wraps off, Audry noticed that he was hairier than the last time she had seen him. But then considering he had worn a classy, expensive suit at the convention two years previous, was clean-shaven and all that to represent his father's company at age eighteen, anything would look hairier. He was currently in winter coats, thick sweaters and the like, with mussed up hair and facial scruff. He also had sideburns. It was a rather manly look. Flummoxed, he stared into space and said, "I guess I could sleep in the kitchen."

Laughing, kissing Rick on the cheek, Mrs. Gruber then patted him on the head as he continued to liberate the rest of his winter things from off him. "Very cute. But I don’t think your father would approve. You will take the family suite."

He immediately groaned, following her as she walked back to her cocoa. She grabbed oven mitts to take it of the burner so she could transition it to the samovar.

"But I really need to remain unnoticed," he protested, towering over her even as hunched his shoulders in a beg. "What if I was followed?"

That part of him hadn't changed. He was still paranoid. Audry smirked inside. The first time she had met Rick Deacon was on top of the Eiffel Tower, and there too he was dodging people.

"She could always give up her room," said one of the staff, thumbing towards Audry.

Immediately Rick turned to Audry, hands up. "No, no, no. You are fine."

"Of course she is fine," Mrs. Gruber said, putting a lid on the cocoa samovar to keep in the heat, handing it to a staff member to put on the cart take out to the front of the lodge. They moved it immediately. "And you don't have to worry. Don't you recall the family suite has a backdoor?"

Rick stared at her, those gray eyes wide. "It does?"

Her stare went dry on him, so comfortably familiar with the wealthy young man enough to chasten him. "Come one. You know your father. He has a backdoor to any room he spends a lot of time in."

And he slowly nodded. "Then how come he never told me about it?"

"He didn't want you using it," she said, going back to the stove to start another batch of cocoa. She got a new pot, putting the old one in their industrial sized sink alongside ladles and other things to be washed. "…Until now, I'm sure."

Hanging his shoulders, Rick moaned, looking so…. normal. "Holy cow that man is a guy for secrets."

Mrs. Gruber chuckled, nodding fondly. "Let me show it to you."

But Rick hesitated. Audry could see his paranoia creep in. "What if someone sees a light on in that room? You know I'm being watched. People will know I am here."

Nodding once more, taking him by the hand, Mrs. Gruber said to him like one trying to assure a frightened child, "I understand completely, Howie. Believe me. And I can assure you that all you need to do is pull the blinds down. They're blackout blinds, incredibly heavy and completely secure. No light will escape. Trust me. Your father uses it all the time."

Nodding, led up like a little scared boy into the back stairs, Rick followed her in. As they went in and up, Audry overheard him say, "Can I ask you also to get some live chickens? I know it is a lot but--"

"I will take care of it, Howie," she said. "Just take a breath and calm down. You are safe here."

"But can you please make sure the staff locks their bedroom doors at night, just in case?"

"I trust you. It’s ok."

"But I don’t trust myself..."

By then Audry could no longer hear his voice.

Audry shook her head. He was still weird. He had a funny way of talking. And such a strange, almost feral nervousness. Even back in Paris he was like that. Looking back to the other staff, Audry noticed them whispering about him also. None of them had ever met him, apparently.

"What was that all about?"

"Did you hear the thing about us locking our doors?"

"Maybe he is OCD."

"Neurotic."

"And what was that about the live chickens?"

"I heard a rumor he had a meltdown two years back, or got put into rehab. His dad had people watching him and everything to make sure he didn’t run away and stuff."

Mrs. Gruber came back down, shooting them all chastening looks before picking up Rick Deacon's overnight bag to carry upstairs like the perfect Victorian servant. Gads, the guy was spoiled. She said, "Enough with the gossip. You’ll get your chance to talk to him in ample time. It isn't like he's not approachable or anything--but I warn you, he's got good ears. So whatever you say about him behind his back, you'd better be able to say it to his face."

She then marched back to the upstairs.

Audry chuckled, ducking down toward her cocoa. Things had definitely gotten interesting. And she wondered how good his ears really were.

Waxing Gibbous

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Two

 

 

Rick Deacon came down again long after Mrs. Gruber had returned to finish making dinner. He was in a different sweater, a green one with white snowflakes stitched in it--probably a Christmas gift as it didn't quite seem his style. His hair was a little better combed, his chin shaved, but he still looked hairier than when Audry last saw him. His eyebrows seemed thicker and his sideburns made her think of Hugh Jackman for some reason.

"Mrs. Gruber, you really didn't need to change those sheets. The ones on the bed were perfectly fine." He stepped into the kitchen and passed Audry, giving Mrs. Gruber another hug and a peck on her cheek. "It was like you had put the other set on the day before."

"It is common practice to make sure the sheets are always fresh for if ever your family arrives," she said, yet she was visibly pleased, happy he noticed.

He was practically beaming when he sat in the chair opposite Audry, crossing his feet and resting them on the near step-stool. The staff quickly brought him some hot cocoa, smiling and nodding at him like little sycophantic minions. Maybe they were hoping for letters of recommendation or something, after all, a number of them were also students putting themselves through school.

"Thanks," he said, taking up the mug, though his eyes did not show any form of recognition of their faces, not even hers. As he cradled the warm mug in his hands, all the muscles in his neck and body seemed to relax. He was no longer twitching like he was searching for assassins. A secure at-home-ness was about him as he sat there, almost snuggling into the seat. As his eyes absorbed the room, taking in the walls, ceiling, cookware, staff, and everything on the walls, they finally rested on Audry who had been silently watching him. A look of memory came in his eye and he said to her, "So, what's this project you are doing at the lodge? What are you researching?"

Apparently his memory only extended to recent events. He definitely did not seem to recognize her at all.

"You don't remember me?" Audry asked.

Rick honestly shook his head, his stare blank. "Remind me."

But this annoyed her. As friendly as he was with Mrs. Gruber, he clearly was still a pompous billionaire who considered those not in his tax bracket below him. It annoyed her so much that Audry replied, "I don’t think so. We have interacted twice before today. And if you can’t remember a person's name, then that is an indication of your own vanity."

"What?" Rick leaned back. His gray eyes blinked in shock. Perhaps he was not used to be talked to that way.

Mrs. Gruber coughed, but did not interfere. Her eyes were wide, though. It just was not clear which thing she was reacting to—Rick or Audry. He should have remembered her, but Audry was being a little mouthy to the boss also.

"Look," Rick said with that tone of annoyance she had heard twice from him in the past when she had called him out on things. "I have signed thousands of permission forms for over two years now, and there is no way I can remember every single face--including one as pretty as yours."

He always had some snarky comeback. But that?

Audry blushed, a little flustered at being called pretty in that way. Not that she wasn't trying. She had been styling her hair like Lorde lately, and it suited her. However, like most rich men, he probably just wanted what Harlin wanted--to get into her pants. He probably thought she'd swoon simply because he was a handsome rich guy--a stoosh ginnygog as her Jamaican friend liked to say. He had another thing coming.

"Funny," she said, "But as I said, we've met twice already. You had remembered me the second time we met. And if you have forgotten, it is not my fault."

Tossing up his hands in open exasperation, Rick rose from his seat. "I give up. I don't need to argue with you." He looked like he was about to go off into the lodge but his cell phone began to sing out. "...Darken the city, night is a wire.... Steam in the subway, earth is afire. Do do do do do do do do do do do do do do...."

Quickly divesting it from his sweater pocket, Rick pressed talk before it played more of Duran Duran's song Hungry Like the Wolf, his cheeks coloring.

Mrs. Gruber broke into a laugh, staring at him.

But Audry sat straighter, for a second stiffening—as that was Harlin's ringtone also. It sent weird chills down her arms.

"Hello?" he said, then covered the mouthpiece to whisper to Mrs. Gruber, "It’s just Dad checking in."

"You use that ringtone for your father?" Mrs. Gruber muttered with another laugh.

Rick just shrugged with a private look between them as he said into the phone, "Yeah... I made it safely here. Why didn’t you tell me the lodge suite had a secret door?"

No one else seemed to get his and Mrs. Gruber's joke about the ringtone, and some apparently didn't even know the song. Too young. Audry thought about his choice of ringtone though, recalling that the Deacon family were wolf aficionados who regularly donated to wolf preservation causes. It fit him. When he finished the call, Rick tucked the phone into his pocket again.

"Is your father joining us?" Mrs. Gruber asked, interested--perhaps even a little hopeful. Audry had never met Mr. Deacon the Second, so she didn't know what he was like. She only guessed he was like any other rich man—full of himself.

Rick shook his head. "Nah. He's got a secure place tonight. He just wanted to check in."

"Overprotective, huh?" one of the staff asked, being rather brave actually.

Shrugging, Rick then walked to the fridge to peek in for something to eat. "Kinda. But he has every reason to be--so I am not going to complain."

Mrs. Gruber silently sighed, nodding.

 "You know," Audry couldn’t resist saying, "My boyfriend has the same ringtone."

Blinking at her, pulling his head out the fridge to stare, Rick laughed