Willa gave a wicked grin. “Right, right,Max.On first-name terms now, are you?”
“Well, I’m hardly going to call him ‘Mr Fitzroy’ like a scullery maid.”
“Maybe you should. Maybe he’d be into it.”
Bo paused, the polish brush hovering over her thumbnail, lacquer dangerously close to dripping over the countertop. “It’s not like that. Not at all. We’ve put the past behind us and have reached an arrangement which works for us both.”
Willa shrugged. “Seems like the arrangement works more in his favour than yours. You’re cooking and cleaning for him, remember?”
“It’s not a favour. He’s going to pay me, just like Geoffrey did. It’ll supplement my income from Ida’s until the house is sold.”
“It was different with Sir Geoffrey though,” Willa remarked, nudging Bo’s fingers towards her nails again. “You worked in thegarden with Geoffrey. Ate lunch and dinner with him. Somehow, I don’t see your Mr Two out of Ten being quite so welcoming.”
“I don’t want him to be welcoming,” Bo replied easily. “I told you; it’s not like that. It’s much more . . . professional. We worked out boundaries which suit us both. Max has given me a copy of his schedule and expectations regarding meals, and neither of those involve my spending any time with him.” She paused. “Besides, his work schedule looks insane. Lots of long evenings. Even if I was expected to eat with him — which I’m not — it would be nearly impossible. Most nights he isn’t back until one or two in the morning.”
Willa looked up at that. “What does he do?”
“What do you mean?”
Willa prodded Bo. “His work, the insane schedule . . . what does he actually do?”
Bo paused. “Oh, I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“No, I never thought to ask. Our first conversation wasn’t really . . .” Bo trailed off, feeling awkward.
Willa grinned once more. “Wasn’t really as informative as it could have been?”
Bo blushed. “No.”
Abruptly, Willa looked concerned. “Bo, honey, I know you’ve slept with this guy, but you know fuck all about him other than that he’s an abrasive two out of ten who works long hours. He could be a murderer for all you know, and you’ve just agreed to cook, clean and live next door to him, as well as shower in his bathroom.”
“He’s not a murderer,” Bo scoffed. “He’s Geoffrey’s nephew. Geoffrey would have told me if there was that kind of scandal in his family.”
“Maybe, but still, you told me that he and Geoffrey were pretty much estranged. In fact, the very reason you ended up inbed with this guy was because he and Geoffrey had an argument. There must be a reason why Geoffrey didn’t get along with him.”
The nail brush hovered again as Bo digested Willa’s words.
Willa’s right,Bo realized.Geoffrey didn’t get along with Max, and the only time I ever heard Geoffrey raise his voice was when Max was around. Geoffrey was the kindest and sweetest man I ever knew; no one who ever met him didn’t like him. So, what went wrong between him and his nephew?
“Maybe I should talk to Max,” Bo agreed slowly, reaching for the polish and dipping the brush into it liberally. “I mean, you’re right, I should learn a little more about him. Make sure he isn’t a murderer, secret gambler or drinker or drug addict—”
Bo stopped as Willa stiffened, internally swearing at her own carelessness. Her friend’s lovely face had paled, a woebegone expression settling across Willa’s delicate features.
“Sorry,” Bo whispered. “I wasn’t thinking.”
“No,” Willa replied, shaking her head, and with it, the sadness that seemed to have enveloped her. “No, it’s okay.”
Bo reached for Willa’s hand, taking care not to get polish on her friend. “Have you heard from Berg yet? Since you argued with him?”
“No.”
“You should get in touch with him.”
Willa shook her head, however. “There’s no point. It won’t change anything.”
“But maybe—?”
