Page 70 of Rules in Love
Shirtless and hot, Finn stood to my right. Fully dressed and lukewarm-at-best, Brett stood to my left. My future, hopefully, and my definite past stood directly opposite each other, eyes darting back and forth between us.
“You’re awake,” they said in unison, exchanging a stern stare.
Following an excessively loud throat clearing, Brett sat on the bed and possessively claimed my hand. “I was worried about you, Lette.”
I pulled free of his grasp and shifted away. It was exorbitantly rude, but my tolerance for his shenanigans was at an all-time low. “Why are you here, Brett? How did you even know what happened?”
Smugly smirking, he replied, looking at Finn, not me. “I’mrecorded as your next of kin, so the hospital called me when you were admitted. How are you feeling?”
“Oh, right. Umm, I’m okay. I think. Bit of a nasty headache, though.”
Finn joined Brett in sitting beside me on the bed. This time, I didn’t move. I may have leaned in a little and nestled into his warmth. “The doctor said you would. You gave yourself a nasty egg, a pearler of a bruise, five stitches, and a concussion. All before ten a.m. It’s impressive, Red.”
“Red?” Brett scoffed.
“Oh, it’s just a nickname. Finn calls me Red—you know, as in Scarlett red?”
“Cute,” he said flatly. Judging by the way he screwed his face up and by what he said next, Brett didn’t think it was cute. He thought it was complete shit. “Well, thanks for bringingScarlettin, but this is a family matter. I’ve got it from here. You can go back to work now.”
“Actually, I feel okay,” I said, grabbing Finn’s hand and stroking my thumb back and forth. “I think I’m fine going back to work, too. You can go, Brett. Finn can take me back to the office in his town car.”
“You…have a town car?” Brett folded his arms across his chest and nodded to Finn. “Is it as big as mine, Lette?”
For fuck’s sake.
If Finn had an apple, he would be polishing it proudly on his chest. I could just picture it. “Well, it’s a family thing really, but yes, I do have a car here, and I can take you back to work, Scarlett,” he said, looking away from Brett and smiling at me with such warmth I began to tan. “But I’d much rather take you home and tuck you into bed.”
Brett skulked around the edge of the bed, firing off a round of questions. His tone and disposition became more aggressive with each step until he was face to face with Finn and pointing his finger at his chest. “Tuck her into bed? So, you know her address? You’ve been there before, have you? Have you met my son?” Accusatory eyes darted in my direction. “Who the hell is this guy, Scarlett?”
“Thisguy is a colleague and close personal friend of Scarlett’s who would really appreciate it if you removed your bony finger from his chest…Bretty.” Finn’s forearm muscles flexed like crazy as he poked Brett back. It was immature and stupid, but he looked so hot and angry. Switching from sweet and caring to macho and territorial really suited him. Brett didn’t back down, though, and they stood chest to chest, just glaring. As much as I enjoyed the testosterone flying around and the image of Finn’s veiny arms and puffed-out chest, their competition of sorts—although kind of flattering—was stupid, and it was up to me to end it.
“Finn is my friend, Brett. He brought me to the hospital, and no, he hasn’t met Ben…yet.”
“Yet? So, you plan on him meetingourson, then? I don’t like it, Lette.”
You don’t like it?My temper flared. I moved to sit, but my stomach violently protested the sudden movement. I really didn’t feel great. I cradled my head in my hands and then sucked in a few deep breaths. Noticing my discomfort, Finn fluffed my pillows behind me and helped me sit. Brett didn’t notice. He was replying to a text he had just received. Apparently, it was more important than the dick-measuring contest. The one he would lose. “I really don’t care if you like it or not. You don’t have a say in my life, Brett, and I don’t have a say in yours. Now, if you’llbothexcuse me, I’d like to get changed and go home.”
“You’re not going anywhere, Miss Grant.” A nurse arrived, looked at me threateningly, and pointed at the bed. “We need at least four hours of observation after a concussion, and judging by the increased bruising, you may be here longer…bed!”
“But I have to collect my son in a few hours!”
Shoving his phone back in his pocket, Brett pounced. “I can do it. Let me get him. I am his dad, after all. I can take him back to my place or bring him back here, and we can all go home…together…as a family.”
Cue savage glare to Finn.
Showing her expert bullshit detection, the nurse rolled her eyes and changed her look to one of sympathy. “I don’t care who takes her home. She’s just not going yet. She doesn’t need to be stuck in between you two peacocks either.” Continuing to stare threateningly at the boys, she took my vitals, popped my chart away, and made her exit, checking out Finn and giving me an approving nod in his direction on her way.
“Well, you heard the nurse,Flim. Scarlett needs to rest. Best you toddle off back to work and draw your little pictures. Or maybe there’s a crocodile or alligator you can wrangle from a toilet somewhere.” His phone buzzed again. “Hey, speaking of crocodiles, Lette…remember when you and Ben first arrived, and we took him to the zoo as afamily? We should do that again sometime.”
He was back on his phone as he spoke.What a dick.I wanted to vomit in my mouth. “Sure, Brett. Sounds great.” I left Brett on his phone and turned to Finn. “Did you find out why Jocelyn came back early?”
His dimples popped, and that sexy, cheeky grin spread. “Romantic misfortunes, I believe she called it. I don’t know all the facts, but I do know it caused quite the Austen-esque scandal in her petit village français.”
“Ooh, continuer de parler.”
I leaned in. My head spun, but Finn was leaning in too, so I ignored it. We sat huddled over the edge of the bed, nose to nose. “Rumor has it, a much younger but equally wealthy man was persuaded to believe himself in love and called on her late one evening to propose marriage. His family and, from what I’ve understood, Jocie herself, objected to the union, and she fled that very night, leaving the poor little rich boy broken-hearted, alone in a sea of Famille Perrin, Fromage and Foie gras.”
“Who’s Jocie, and what’s Famille Perrin?” Brett barked. I’d almost forgotten he was here.
