Page 42 of Brother In Arms

Chapter 14

Bailey

I winced and Rush cursed a whole hell of a lot sending things crashing off the nightstand as he groped for what I assumed was his phone. He found it and silenced what sounded like the alarm to a nuclear reactor in full meltdown.

“Oh my god, was that your alarm?”

“Yeah,” he grunted.

“What time is it?” I demanded.

“Two-thirty,” he answered sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Oh, hell no. Come back to bed.”

“Can’t, my boss is kind of a bitch and she’ll fire my ass if I’m late.”

It took me a full minute for my tired mind to catch up to what he was saying and when it did I scoffed and said, “Fuck her! Now come here.” I pulled him back under the warm blankets and pressed my nude body to his. He came willingly and laid down with me, cuddling me close.

“Is that a request?” he asked, his breath stirring the hair by my ear, causing it to tickle.

“Mm, I wish.”

“Sore?”

“Yeah, in all the right ways.”

“Sorry about that.”

I chuckled, “No, you aren’t.”

“Yeah I am, if it means I gotta wait to fuck you again.”

I laughed and drifted back to sleep surprisingly quickly, wrapped up in his warm embrace.

When I woke again, the sun was streaming through the wooden slats of the blinds casting the room in bars of light. I sat up and stretched and confirmed that, yes, I was alone, and Rush had intentionally let me oversleep. I got out of bed and still took the time to make it the way my nanny had taught me, growing up. I went about pulling clothes out of dressers and armoires, laying them out for use.

I went in and took a hot shower, using the rainfall showerhead feature in my bathroom which, let me say, was hard to pull away from in anything under a half an hour, but I managed. I wrapped my hair in one towel and my body in a bath sheet and went back out into my bedroom to get dressed.

I heard the screen door open out in the living area and Rush called out, “Hey, boss lady! You up yet?”

His strange greeting could only mean that he had people with him, so I called back, “Yeah! Give me just a few minutes. Can you get out some refreshments for our guests?”

“Tea or lemonade?” I heard him ask, his boot falls receding against the hardwood as he moved away from the cracked bedroom door toward the kitchen. I heard a woman’s voice say, “Lemonade, thank you kindly.”

“You bet.”

I knew the voice, but I couldn’t place it. I chewed my bottom lip and double timed pulling on my jeans and tucking my camisole into them. I pulled on my boots after I finished sweeping my hair over my shoulder and whipping it into its braid to keep it out of things.

I stood up, and grabbed my blouse, a peach plaid pattern, and threw it on over my even lighter peach cami. I didn’t bother snapping the buttons closed, my curiosity winning out. Instead I strode out of my room and across the entryway toward the dining room.

Thank god I picked up the kitchen last night,I thought to myself when I saw who was sitting at the table. Marion Cranston, of the Kentucky Cranston racehorse dynasty. What in the hell was she doing in my kitchen?

“Thank you, Rush. I appreciate it,” I said as he set the tray down on the table and poured Mrs. Cranston a tall glass with ice.

“No trouble at all, boss lady,” he said with one of his wicked grins and a wink. I tried not to smile and failed.

“Anything I should know before you get back to it?” I asked.

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