Page 39 of The Bossy Billionaire

“I’m fine,” she says, but I can tell that she is not.

“There is that fine again. I have some calls to make and some business to do. You sleep for a while, and then I can wake you up before dinner.” I push open my bedroom door and bring her inside.

“I think that is the biggest bed I have seen in my entire life.” She looks at the large deep timber sleigh bed in my very masculine room, her jaw dropping.

“It’s all yours. Lie down. You can rest here. We have complete privacy, security, and nothing but fresh air and my mom’s good country cooking,” I say, helping her onto the bed and grabbing a throw blanket.

“Thanks, Huxley,” she says softly as her head hits my pillow, and I pull the blanket over her. I look at her small frame in my large bed, my chest swelling a bit at having her in my space. I have four other bedrooms in this house, but there is only one bed I want her in and that is mine.

Her eyes close immediately, and I feel my cell continue to vibrate, so I step out of the room, close the door, and walk down to my office.

Pulling my cell from my pocket, I see the missed calls I was expecting. There are at least three from Harrison, two from Ben, and then text messages from the other two. But there is also a missed call from an unknown number. With no message left and bigger things to worry about, I delete the notification.

I need to concentrate on Lucy this week. Everything else can wait.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO - LUCY

I feel like I need to undo my jeans.

“You haven’t eaten much, dear. Here, have some more,” Huxley’s mother, Susan, says as she reaches for the mashed potatoes.

“I am so full, Susan, I can’t eat another thing.” I can’t remember the last time I ate so well.

“She always cooks too much when the boys are in town,” Doug mumbles to me, he and Huxley sitting back in their chairs, relaxed after the meal.

“Oh, I do not,” Susan mutters as she stands and starts clearing the table.

“Let me help.” I jump up, grabbing the dishes.

“Come outside, let me talk with you, son,” Doug says to Huxley, and I watch him stand as Doug walks to the door.

“You okay for a little bit?” Huxley looks at me.

“She is just fine, honey. You go.” His mother swats a towel in his direction, and I laugh seeing Mr. Bossy being bossed around by his mother. But he doesn’t move. He waits for me to assure him.

“I’m fine. Go,” I tell him with a small smile, not used to anyone being this protective. My brothers are intense, but Huxley is different. Like he wants every base covered and recovered before letting me out of his sight.

“That boy of mine was always trouble,” Susan murmurs about Huxley, and my interest piques.

“Really? How so?” My broad smile is instant. I am keen to get the dirt on Huxley Hamilton.

“He was always into things. Always finding or creating trouble of some sort. When he was twelve, he walked right up to the back door with a snake in his hand. I have never screamed so loudly in my entire life.” She chuckles, and I laugh with her, trying to imagine a young Huxley running around the fields in Whispers.

“Between him and Hudson, there was never a dull moment,” she says, scrubbing the dishes as I wipe the counters. “Actually, Hudson and his son, Harvey, are coming in this week, so you will get to meet them too.” I smile and bite the inside of my cheek, feeling a little underprepared for this meet the family type of vacation.

“Dinner was wonderful, Susan. Thank you so much for cooking.” I feel like I don’t need to eat for the rest of the week.

“Nonsense. You are skin and bones! Huxley is obviously not taking very good care of you back in the city.”

“Well, we are just friends,” I say quietly, not sure how much Huxley has told her about my situation. I look up and through the window, seeing Huxley and his father out in the yard.

“You must be a very special friend for Huxley to bring you here. I will admit, it’s nice having another girl around. It has been years since Huxley brought someone home.” I remain quiet, not wanting to ask, but really wanting to know more. She doesn’t seem to notice my hesitation as she scrubs the pots, her back now to me. “Amy was the last one. Took him a while to get over her.”

“Amy?” Huxley and I haven’t talked about our pasts. But when I searched for him online, I did see an old flame named Amy in the images. I paid little attention, though, because there were so many different women.

“She was his fiancée. She left him about two years ago. Just up and left, and he never saw or heard from her again.” My breath lodges in my throat. He was engaged?

“Did something happen to her?” I ask, hating that I am prying.

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