King's Treasure (Oil Kings Book 3) by Marie Johnston (great novels .TXT) 📗

I got out of my comfort zone all the time. But dammit, she’d hit the target. I never stayed there. “I’m a privileged snot, is that what you’re saying?”

After a beat of silence, she said, “I think you’re afraid Xander’s going to think you’re a privileged snot.”

I averted my gaze to the bookshelves. I couldn’t look at my new husband, who was outside doing more manual labor around the house than I ever had. “I don’t know him well enough to know what he’ll think.”

Pearl stretched her hands above her head. “Then go get to know him.”

The movement caught the attention of the men working outside. I glanced over, right into Xander’s direct stare. He lifted a gloved hand. They weren’t the traditional puffy winter gloves meant to get him from a warm house to a heated car to a ski lift. These were grungy, beaten-up gloves that had been used for years.

I waved back.

Pearl rose and drifted toward the door. “You have a year. Just sayin’. You licked him, you can keep him.”

Xander was back at work, this time clearing a path from the patio to the shed, where the landscaper stored much of the lawn equipment he didn’t need in the winter. The landscaper said something and he turned around.

I jumped out of the chair before I could be busted staring again. He was my husband, but Pearl’s stalker comment would hit too close to home if I sat here longer.

Get to know him.

What would it hurt?

For once, I was going to escape the endless loop of questions in my head and do something. I went down the hall, my slippered feet whispering on the cherrywood floors. I stopped at the closet. It was full of fluffy ski gloves, snow pants, and parkas. Gear we packed and took to Aspen once a year, then had cleaned and packed away for another year.

Opening the door, I peered in like I was in the middle of a horror movie and the killer was going to jump out at me. I yanked on the chain hanging next to the bulb. When the light turned on, the closet went from dark and creepy to fluffy and colorful. I grabbed my fuchsia winter coat and shrugged into it. The boots I’d worn yesterday were in the closet by the front door. They should be good enough. They weren’t made for actual snow, but they’d keep my feet warm.

I found gloves on the top shelf and made my way through the silent house to the front door and located my boots. Carrying them, I went back through the house toward the door to the patio. Mother stepped out of her office, her reading glasses perched on her nose and a paper in her hand.

“Oh, Sapphire.” She took the glasses off and dropped them to her chest. I’d teased her that the 1950s was calling and wanted their reading glasses chain back, but it didn’t bother her. For good reason: she rocked it and I’d told her that too. Mother was a lot of things, but unstylish was not one of them.

She tilted her head at my coat, her gaze dropping to my boots. “Is something wrong?”

“Xander’s outside, so . . .” I didn’t even know what I was doing, only that it seemed weird he was out there working and I was bored inside.

“Yes, I saw him helping Michael. He’s . . .” Her smile wavered, then solidified. “Different than what I expected.”

“You don’t mind that he’s helping Michael?” Not only did she know the landscaper’s name, but she didn’t mind if the neighbors saw her new son-in-law helping the help?

She blinked. “Why would I?”

I had no answer. I’d spent a lifetime not getting my mother, and times like these hammered it home. “Yes, he’s certainly different.”

Her eyes crinkled at the corners. “I imagine that’s what got your attention.”

Sometimes she surprised me with what she saw and understood. It was too easy to assume she was oblivious or uncaring, an unthinking follower of her status’s demands. Then there were times like this. “His looks helped.”

Her chuckle was like the tinkling of chandelier crystals. Mother had more sophistication in her left pinky than I did in my whole body. “The fireplace in the sitting room is electric if you two get too cold out there. Just go in and turn it on.”

Her words summoned a long-forgotten memory. Me and my sisters would spill inside after building snowmen. We’d find Mother and Chief sitting by the fireplace, deep in conversation.

Those times were some of my favorite memories. The thought propelled me out the sliding door to the patio. Xander turned at the sound.

I hadn’t been in the backyard during winter in years. Now that I was out here, faced with my new husband, I had no idea what to do.

Xander

My little snow bunny’s gaze darted all over the yard like she was looking for shelter before a predator could snatch her up. She took a tentative step. And another, her boots crushing the remaining snow that Michael intended to sweep clean.

Overkill in my opinion, but he didn’t mind doing it and the Abbots didn’t mind paying. It also gave me something to do, which in this house was a godsend. I’d never been so bored. When I went back home, Dawson always had chores for me. If I traveled, I had to worry about the necessities or I could fall back on taking pictures. The Abbots had staff do any and all manual labor. They had their groceries delivered, and they had a driver. The only reading options were the military history paperweights on the shelves in the library. I’m sure there was a TV somewhere, but I wasn’t one to sit and binge shows. And there was no one to talk to.

Mrs. Abbot had retreated to her office to rule the Abbot world. Chief was gone and I got the impression he was gone a lot. Pearl was around between classes, but she wasn’t who I