Guarding Sophie by Julie Brannagh Read Free Book Online

enforcement, Mr. Thomason?”
    â€œNo, but I’m on very good terms with the local police departments in Newcastle and in Bellevue. Would you like me to call them?”
    â€œAbsolutely. Maybe you could tell them that you’re harassing me, and you have no business involving yourself in my private life. I’m an adult. I don’t need to give you any information at all as to where I am, whom I’m with, or what I am doing. I don’t need to give anyone else that information, either.”
    The private investigator adopted a fatherly tone of voice. “Look. They’re worried about you. Why don’t you make it easy on everyone and contact your family? They want to be sure you’re okay.”
    â€œThat’s interesting, Mr. Thomason. They’re more concerned about access to my bank accounts than they have ever been about me. And I want you to know that if you persist in bothering me, I will call the police and my lawyer, give them your contact information, and let them do their jobs. Are we clear?”
    â€œMaybe you could answer a few more questions before we hang up—”
    â€œI’m not answering any more questions. And I’m hanging up now. Don’t contact me again.”
    Kyle hit End on his phone with relish and settled back into the chair. He bought this place because he hoped for a little solitude, but he’d barely lasted twenty-four hours before going out to find some human contact, no matter how fleeting.
    He missed his teammates and their easy rapport. They knew what it was like to deal with the challenges of fame and money. He enjoyed his time with them. Maybe he should invite a couple of them over for a barbecue or something.
    Most of all, he needed to get it together. He pulled his business cell out of his pocket and tapped in a text to his mother.
    I AM FINE. I WILL CONTACT YOU ALL SOON.
    There were a million other things to say, but they could all wait. He could still enjoy the evening with Sophie, the woman he couldn’t quite forget.

Chapter Six
    I T WAS ALL Sophie could do to let the prime rib sit in its protective butcher paper wrapper on Kyle’s kitchen counter for an hour. It needed to come to room temperature before cooking. She preheated his oven to five hundred degrees, lined the ingredients up behind the disposable roasting pan on the island, and got to work.
    She poured a teaspoon or two of olive oil into the bottom of the roasting pan and rubbed it over the meat. She laid a dishtowel on the quartz counter to protect it and hit a Ziploc baggie of peppercorns with a heavy stainless steel measuring cup to break them up. Normally she’d use a rolling pin, but she wasn’t surprised Kyle didn’t have one yet. She washed her hands, and combined the salt, peppercorns, diced garlic, and rosemary into a mixture she pushed onto the exterior of the meat. It would form a delicious, fragrant crust when it was done cooking, infusing the prime rib with flavor.
    Miraculously, she’d found a meat thermometer in one of the kitchen drawers. She stabbed it into the meat. It would cook for an hour, and then she’d shut off the oven and let it continue cooking for another three hours. She should make Kyle some lunch while they waited. He was probably hungry.
    She heard footsteps behind her, and Kyle settled onto one of the barstools that sat on the other end of the island.
    â€œIs everything okay?” she asked.
    â€œIt’ll be fine,” he said. “Something smells good.”
    â€œI have good news and bad news,” she said. “Which would you like first?”
    â€œHow about the good news?”
    â€œI can make lunch while we’re waiting for the roast to finish cooking.”
    â€œHow long will it take?”
    â€œAbout four hours.”
    â€œThat’s crazy. Why?”
    â€œIt has to cook slowly. And we can’t open the oven while it’s cooking, either.”
    â€œSo you’re