Page 67 of The Boss
“Taking you to Seamus.”
“Seriously? For a bruise?”
“You say it’s a bruise, it’s probably a damn internal organ busted and bleeding out.”
Her mouth falls open, “You are unwell, you know that?”
“And you? What did you think would happen to the man that busted your wrist?”
Her mouth shuts, “Nothing. I didn’t think you’d notice.”
“Do you ever get tired of lying? Or is it just second nature now?” I say, knowing she doesn’t believe that for a second.
She has to know I notice everything about her. That I’m painfully more and more aware of her every second. What she’s wearing, how she has her hair, where she is at any given moment, what she’s currently trying to uncover or plot out as she walks a certain wing of the house or a certain part of the grounds.
I carry her out the side hall, through the mudroom, to one of our four wheelers. Declan appears out of nowhere to drive it. “Seamus,” I tell him.
A minute later we pull up to the doctor’s quarters, a small cottage tucked into a grove not far from the main house. I carryLuna in despite her protests and soon he confirms what she claimed. Only minor bruises. No sprains. He cleans and dresses the small cut on her head but that’s it.
“See?” Luna says as she climbs into the golf cart unassisted. “So dramatic.”
“Hmph,” I huff before telling my new recruit, “I’ll drive. Walk the fence line back to the house, Dec. Report back.”
We drive over in silence. I go slowly, worried about my wife. She must be aching but the doc gave her some ibuprofen, so at least she’ll be able to fall asleep after a while.
I park on the front drive and follow Luna up the steps.
“Please tell me you’re headed straight to bed now?” I ask as I open the door for her. She slips past me, smelling amazing. There’s sweat and the smell of outside, even the hint of the ointment Seamus gave her, but under that is something sexy and feminine. Something I shouldn’t think too hard about right before she heads up to my bedroom.
“Okay,” she says. She takes two steps into the foyer and then turns back. “So, will you train with me tomorrow?”
I groan, gripping my head in my hand. “No, woman, I will not train with you tomorrow. You’re hurt.”
“The next day, then.”
“Maybe.”
She moves a few inches closer and looks up at me, those big brown eyes reeling me in like the sucker I apparently am.
“Please? Promise me? The day after tomorrow?”
“Fine,” I sigh.
“I’m going to need you to shake on it.”
“Fine! Luna! The day after tomorrow!” I yell, eyes closed in exasperation as she pumps my hand once.
“Okay, I’ll spar with you, geez, calm down,” she says.
I open my eyes and dip my chin, glowering at her with the scariest stance I can muster.
And, not scared in the least, beyond pleased with herself, she laughs.
And I can’t help myself, I grab her. I hold her to me, fucking rattled.
Rattled that she was out in the dark alone.
Rattled that she was touched by one of my men and hurt, even if it was on the mats.
