My grandfather turned to me, his gray brows lifting. “What? Don’t you want them to enjoy some times off, Lennie?”
“Of course, but I want themallto enjoy time off. Offering two of them the weekend off and not the other two when we have enough security is rude,” I said with a shocking amount of fierceness.
“Ms. Holloway, it’s fine,” Dallas said from behind me, probably trying to keep me from arguing with my family.
I slashed a hand through the air. “It isnotfine, Dallas.”
The air in the clearing seemed to freeze as I realized my mistake.
I watched as my grandfather’s expression turned thoughtful. “You’re right, Lennie, my apologies. All four should have the weekend off.”
“Hey! I know you three are working and you had better stop by the time I make it over there!” My grandmother’s voice broke the sudden awkward silence and we turned to find her stomping through the grass toward us with the three massive Great Danes that she and my grandfather shared circling around her like overprotective sharks.
My mother, who had been silently watching the entire interaction play out in front of her, looked from me to Dallas with narrowed eyes and panic welled up in my chest.
Looping my arm through hers, I offered her a sheepish smile and launched into my own version of a distraction as we hurried to join my grandmother. “So, the delegation dinner…”
Chapter Thirteen
Laughter filled the backyard of the lodge that had been fully decked out for annual Holloway barbeque.
Despite this supposedly being an ‘intimate’ family barbecue there had to have been almost a hundred people filling the space, milling around and engaging in the mind-numbing small talk that I had been doing my best to avoid all afternoon.
People usually ignored my presence entirely thanks to my Secret Service uniform. During my day to day I was basically apiece of decor to these people, only meant to come to life in case of an emergency to save them from impending doom.
But right now? Now that I was standing next to my grandfather who seemed to know every single person at this party and had been waiting for the perfect moment to show me off?
Now I was in pure hell.
“Oh come now, Maverick,” Philip Onassis said in his Greek accent, still thick despite decades of living in the states. “Try not to look like such a thundercloud.”
“Tell me again why I couldn’t just wear my regular suit?” I asked, as he gave the back of my neck a slap.
Upon his arrival to Camp David this morning he’d brought me a pair of linen slacks and a collared blue polo that he had insisted be buttoned up all of the way.
“Because it is not often I get to show my grandson to all of my friends, Maverick, so I want you to look nice,” my grandfather answered, clearly pleased as hell with himself. “Besides, your mother actually picked that outfit out herself, so unless you want me to tell her how much you hated it I suggest you, as the Americans say, perk up, buttercup.”
“That’s not how you say that,Pappou,” I corrected, already surrendering to the man’s whims, just as I had for the past thirty years of my life and as I probably would continue to do for the foreseeable future.
“Pah,” my grandfather said, waving his hand through the air as he made a noise deep in his throat. “The meaning is still there.”
I just shook my head.
My mother was a saint to put up with both him and my father for so long, so if she wanted me to wear the damned linen pants, then I would. I’d just add it onto the list of weird shit that was happening to me and my team this weekend.
Zeke was standing across the yard with his own family. The Adams clan had shown up in force, dressed like a bunch of GAP models as they schmoozed like professionals with the other partygoers.
Even Zeke looked like he fit right in as he laughed at whatever an older woman was saying to him. His ability to charm had made him irreplaceable on our team, but I also knew that it took a lot out of him to do in situations like this.
We’d been friends since high school and Zeke liked nothing more than to curl up on his own after a day of socializing and recharge his battery. I was pretty sure he called it something like an introverted extrovert.
My gaze shifted away from Zeke and his perfect family to Dallas and Brooks who were both hovering awkwardly on the outskirts of the party, each nursing a beer.
After Lennon’s outburst yesterday, Farrow Holloway had insisted they have the day off and that they be a part of the barbecue despite their protests.
The old man seemed to be testing them—or at least testing just how close they were to his granddaughter.
How close we were, I mentally corrected as I took a swig of my own beer.
