Unmasked (Godmother Security Book 1) by June Stevens, DJ Westerfield

you,” she said.
    He shrugged.  “Suit yourself.  What’s with the fanny pack?  You look like a gangster tourist.” He pointed to her waist.
    She flashed a grin at him and slid the zipper around and pulled the flap down to reveal her gun.  “It’s open on this side,” she said as she zipped it back up and slid her hand into the opening.  “So I can draw quickly.”
    He laughed.  “Yep, gangster tourist.  Okay, let’s go then.”
    Instead of going out the way they came in, he led her through one of the four doors she’d seen earlier.  It opened into a large room, but this room was different than the rest of the house.  It was darker, cozier, somehow.  She noticed a fireplace on one wall, and didn’t see any electric lights.  Instead glass oil lamps sat on small tables around the room.  The room was furnished in rustic and antique furniture. 
    Sebastian must have noticed the curiosity on her face because he said, “This is the original cabin.  The rest of the house was built around it, but I left this room as natural as I could.  It doesn’t even have electricity.”
    Cindy didn’t say anything, just looked around as they walked through, and went out the front door.  They walked along the dirt drive in silence for a few minutes.
    “Does Faye have a rule against talking to clients?”
    Cindy, who had been looking around at the countryside, was caught off guard by Sebastian’s question.  “I beg your pardon?”
    “I was wondering if there was a rule that you couldn’t be friendly with clients.  If so Gus and Jack are some serious rule breakers.  They’ve had dinner with me, talked with me, even watched movies with me while guarding me this week.  You, however, have barely exchanged five words with me that didn’t directly pertain to safety protocols.  Why is that?”
    Cindy gaped at him, her mind flitting around to justify her behavior.  She couldn’t very well say I didn’t want to be too friendly in case you remembered we made out on your balcony .  Finally she told an abbreviated version of the truth.  “I’m sorry.  Sometimes in my effort to be alert and professional I can come off as rude.”
    He seemed to mull it over for a moment, then said, “I guess I can understand that.  I can tell you though, this is a weird enough situation for someone to be in—needing twenty-four hour guards—without having that guard be rigid and taciturn.”
    She nearly shouted at him that she wasn’t rigid, but she caught the quirk of his mouth and realized that was just the reaction he was looking for.  Instead, she decided to give him what he asked for.  Conversation.
    “You know, this is not the sort of place I would have expected you to live.  I’d love to hear all about it.”
    He shot her a sideways glance.  “Now you’re just making fun of me.”
    “No, I’m not.  I’d really love to hear more about the cabin, and this whole place,” she said, truthfully. 
    “Okay, then.  The original cabin was built in 1797 by my several times great grandfather.  He and his and his six sons farmed the land and built a sawmill about a mile in that direction, down the river,” he said, pointing off past the lake.
    “Six sons.  You must have a huge family.” 
    “Maybe, but I don’t know any of them.  By the time my great-grandmother was born in 1896 the family had dwindled down to just her father, who was an only child.  The valley around here may be littered with my distant relatives, but connections have long since been lost.”
    “That doesn’t bother you?” Cindy asked.  Faye was the only family she had, and it was a bit lonely sometimes.  As a child she’d always wondered what it would be like to have siblings or even cousins.
    “Not really, my Dad has four sisters, and I have a half a dozen or so cousins and they all have kids.  I’m not lacking for family.  Besides, apparently family ties aren’t all they are cracked up to be,” his voice lost some of its