Page 5 of The Holiday Inheritance

Worry sinks into my gut, and I throw the covers back, running out of the room to check on things. Surely it’s just Florence. I can’t imagine someone has chosen the middle of a blizzard to break into the house. But who knows? I’m not about to just let them ransack the place if it is an intruder.

I round the corner and stride into the kitchen. Florence has her earbuds in, and she’s dancing as she digs through the fridge. She’s bent over at the waist, white cotton knickers peeking out from under her long T-shirt. Those shapely legs of hers sway her hips side to side, and I have to pull my eyes away from the sight before I get caught perving on my boss.

“It’s late,” I say as a gentle nudge to let her know I’m here. But her music must be too loud. So I take a few steps closer just as she stands up with her arms full of food. “Hey, it’s Briggs.”

When I reach out to tap her shoulder, she freaks. Her bloodcurdling scream is loud enough to pop a damn eardrum, and when she turns, all the food drops to the floor. Because she punches me. Right in the fucking eye socket. And then, with a swiftness I didn’t expect from her, she knees me right in the fucking crotch.

“Fuck!” I shout, the pain excruciating. I fall to my knees right next to the fridge and then curl up in the fetal position on the floor as I watch her run around the table to turn on the light. It floods the room, making me wince and pull my eyes shut. Fuck, I’m going to vomit.

“Briggs?” she squeals when she finally sees it’s me. I peer up at her, and even through the pain, I swear to god I fall in love. She’s standing there, butcher knife in hand and hair cascading over her shoulders. Her eyes are wild as she takes in the scene of spilled food and me clutching my balls.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s me,” I manage to grunt out as I press my forehead against the cool tile floor. A sick sweat breaks out on my forehead and down my back.

“Oh, god. Oh, Briggs!” I hear the knife get sat down on the counter and then her feet shuffle across the floor before she kneels down next to me. Her soft hand runs up and down my bare arm. Even when I feel like shit, her touch does something to me it shouldn’t. “I’m so fucking sorry! I thought you were someone who broke in! Why the fuck are you here?”

“Please, lower your voice. I’m trying to concentrate on not throwing up. Give me a second.” I try to push her away. If I do vomit, I don’t want her to see it. She swears under her breath, and I hear her stand and walk away. There’s water running, and then she’s back, laying a cold, wet cloth on the back of my neck.

I let her take care of me for just a moment. It feels nice to have her fingers running through my hair as she tries to make me feel better. When I take a deep breath and roll over onto my back, she scoots back a few inches, giving me some room.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, biting her bottom lip.

“Stop that.”

“What? Apologizing?”

“No, you can keep doing that,” I tease, winking in her direction. The pink on her cheeks deepens. “No, I meant biting your lip. You’ve been doing it since I picked you up.”

“Oh…” Her eyes trail downward from my face, roaming over my half-naked body. Instinctively, I flex, which is such a vain thing to do, but I find I want her to keep looking, and I want her to like what she sees. I’m no gym rat, but I work with my hands on this land every day. It keeps me healthy and strong. Her eyes dance over the tattoos that scrawl over my chest and down my stomach. They dip down into my boxers, and I notice her pupils dilate just slightly at the noticeable bulge.

I clear my throat as I sit up, causing her to snap back to attention. “I did text you,” I tell her. “But I’m sorry for scaring you. Rover got stuck about a mile down the road, and figured walking here would be better than walking home.”

“Makes sense. I left my phone upstairs, just threw a playlist on and came down. I’m so sorry.”

I reach up and gently touch my eyebrow. My fingers come away dotted with blood. “Christ, you really got me, didn’t ya?”

“I’m so fucking sorry. Are there ice packs?” She turns and pulls open the bottom door of the freezer, giving me another good look at her panty-covered arse. I have to fight myself not to take her right there, face in the frozen dinners and knickers around her knees. She pulls out a bag of frozen corn and catches me staring at her when she turns around. I don’t even try to hide it. I’m sitting here on the floor in my boxer briefs with ablackening eye and sore balls. There’s really not much to hide behind.

“Thank you,” I say. She gives me a weak smile as she holds the corn against the eye she clobbered. “You have quite the reaction time.”

The cutest snort escapes her lips. “Took like three self-defense classes a year ago.” She shrugs. “Guess some of it stuck.”

“Can’t sleep?”

“Not really. The time change has me fucked-up. I was going to make a grilled cheese. Want one?” She gives me another one of her shy smiles. “It’s the least I could do.”

I should thank her but tell her no. I should get up, walk back to my room, and ice my nuts for the rest of the night and leave her alone. But there’s something in her voice that gives me pause. She sounds sad, and maybe she is. It’s close to Christmas, and she’s in a new country with no friends or family. I’m sure it’s a shock to the system. I give her a smile that makes her blush all over again, and I find that Ireallylike being able to do that.

“Sure, that’d be great.”

“Okay,” she says, grinning. “I’ll get started.”

Chapter Four

Florence

I kneedBriggs in the balls. And left him with a serious black eye. I feel awful, but you can’t go sneaking up on someone like that. Especially when they’re in a new house with no pants on.

“Announcing my presence!” I hear him shout as he walks back toward me from the room he’s staying in. “I am walking through the hallway! Coming around the corner!”

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