Page 78 of The Bossy Billionaire

“What are you two doing here anyway? Don’t you have to be in a million different places today?” I ask, because I wasn’t expecting my oldest brother and his wife to be at my bedside when I came to.

“We do. But family comes first,” Harrison says, giving me a nod. I no longer see the overbearing brother, but the caring one. The one who will always put family ahead of everything.

“Besides, we wanted to see you before you go,” Beth says, her smile wide.

“Go where?” I ask, confused, wondering if the painkillers are too strong and making me forget things. Beth and Harrison both look at Huxley.

“You didn’t tell her?” Harrison accuses Huxley, who just shrugs and smiles cheekily.

“Tell me what?” I ask, not fully awake and alert.

“Oh, I am taking you to St. Barts to recover.” I am rendered speechless, eyes widening as I stare at him.

“Remember the gala, when I purchased the beach house in St. Barts at the auction. Well, I bought it that night for you. And now we are using it. We are staying for a few weeks. I have a doctor and nurse who will travel with us and stay nearby, should we need them.”

“But I don’t have a passport.” I have never even been out of the country.

“That’s not true…” Harrison says suspiciously.

“Remember when we got all your details and had you sign that paperwork months and months ago?” Beth says, and I scramble my brain, thinking about it. I remember I did it all begrudgingly at the time. I nod to her. “Well, we knew with the campaign coming up that everyone needed to have up-to-date records and identification. Do you remember we organized your passport for you? It has been at the bottom of your paperwork pile for months.” I cringe thinking about the growing paperwork pile that is on my work desk.

“It does ring a bell,” I murmur, feeling stupid for resisting them for so long.

“Well, we will leave you to it. Rest up and take it easy,” Harrison says, standing, and I see his team of people milling outside, no doubt waiting to whisk him away to the next appointment.

“Make sure Huxley waits on you hand and foot,” Beth says, giving me a kiss on the cheek.

“Thanks, guys,” I tell them as Harrison shakes Huxley’s hand, and we watch the two of them walk out of the room.

“Wow… St. Barts?” I say to him, a small smile coming to my face because I am now excited. The snow has just started to fall in Baltimore, the days dark and cold. I knew that this winter would be hard on my thigh, which is another reason I went through with this procedure, but I was hoping to get it moving a bit better before the cool temperatures hit it too much. Now I don’t have to worry about that at all.

“My jet is ready, and our bags are packed. A night or two here, and we should be discharged and ready to fly,” Huxley confirms as he sits at my bedside, stroking my hair.

“But you can’t go without this,” he says, sliding my ring on my finger. The solitaire diamond sits perfectly, big enough to tell the world I am taken, but it’s not in-your-face ostentatious either. It is perfect.

“Am I allowed to put it back on yet?” I am confused. I had to remove all my jewelry before the operation.

“You have had it off for too long already,” Huxley grumbles, and I huff a laugh.

Even since we recovered from the hit and run, he has been by my side. He works from the store most days, and we sometimes still spend the night there or his apartment on the other side of town. Every Sunday, we get up, go to the grave, and place a fresh posy of chamomile that has been flown in from the ranch before we have a late breakfast and then spend the day together.

He has been a constant source of help at Bloomers, doing everything from stocking the shelves and point of sale, to helping me with the books, the strategy planning, and some marketing. Leaving me to manage the literacy programs, of which I now run five per week. I love it.

“What are you thinking about?” Huxley asks me as my thoughts go back to him. He entwines our hands, rubbing his thumb across the top.

“I was just thinking about a book…” I tell him honestly.

“Of course you were,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Which one?” He sees me reading every night and always asks me about it. What the story is about, who the characters are. I read to him most nights too.

“Just one that is in the health section at the shop. I heard page twelve and two are the best ones?” I am not able to help the smile that comes to my face.

“Oh yeah?” He grins, a hungry look in his eyes, clearly remembering.

“Yeah, those positions were some of your favorites, I think?” I tease him, and I see him swallow.

“They are. But the page numbers are what make them special,” he says, and I squint.

“What do you mean?”

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