Page 34 of Flog Me, Sir

Chapter Twelve

Garret

Work sucked.

Life sucked.

A week dragged past, and all I could think about was Lissa and her emotional state. Nothing good on TV, no book I cracked open or downloaded helped me escape from hell. I’d called Lily for updates, and found out Lissa hadn’t returned to work that entire week. It had taken three days for her mother to wake up from surgery, and while she seemed to be doing okay, she wasn’t yet in the right frame of mind.

Add in detoxing atop that fact, and I expected Lissa felt like she had her hands full—even with her mom still in the hospital. She’d been appointed ward over her mother and had pressed charges against the bastard who had beat the shit out of her mom.

I wanted to help. I wanted to wrap Lissa in my arms, take away her pain and the stress. I wanted to set her free, even if only for a moment. Fucking craved it to the point I couldn’t sleep.

Mrs. Hummel called me Wednesday night—late.

“Lissa came back today,” she said by way of greeting.

I sat up on the couch I’d been lounging on, my brow furrowing. “How is she?”

“Looks worn out. Tired as all get out.”

A heavy exhale left my lungs as I shook my head. “What can I do to help, Tillie girl?”

“You can get your ass up here this weekend and make that girl smile again.”

I chuckled at her snippy tone. “I thought the twins were under the weather,” I told her what Lily had mentioned earlier in the week.

“Pfft. Nothin’ but the sniffles.”

“I got the feeling Lily didn’t want company,” I continued, remembering her hemming and hawing over my hints at wanting to visit the estate.

“Them twins are fine, and I’m sending their parents away for the weekend,” Tillie said with a hint of a smile in her voice, enough I knew her eyes twinkled.

“I don’t stand a chance with your match-making schemes, do I?”

She snorted. “Not a chance in hell, boy. Now get your fine backside up here, so I can set things right.”

“What if Lissa doesn’t want what you want? Hmm?” I shut my eyes, hating that thought. “What if she doesn’t want me?”

“Pfft. That girl done want you—you just gotta make her accept it.”

I hopped aboard the “Win Lissa over” Tillie train and packed a bag. With the long weekend ahead, I had an extra day to weasel my way inside Lissa’s mind. We’d connected on a deep emotional level, of that I had no doubt, and deciding to set my sites on having her again, I decided I wouldn’t be denied.

I could make things perfect for her—if only for a time—and I was selfless enough to make it happen.

* * *

Mrs. Hummel metme at the front door on Friday afternoon as Brock took back to the sky in his helicopter. While I could have driven through traffic heading out of Boston to New Hampshire on the beginning of a long weekend at rush hour, I had no interest in doing so—and the chopper got me there doubly fast.

More time for Lissa.

“Where is she?” I asked as Mrs. Hummel patted my cheek.

“Done hopped in the pool. Drop that bag and get movin’, boy.”

I did as told, pecked Mrs. Hummel’s cheek with a quick thanks, and strode toward the back of the house. The sun set to the west, but streaks of red light still lit the sky streaming through the windows of the enclosed pool area.

Lissa hadn’t turned on the lights, so I slipped onto a lounger by the door leading to the main house and sat back to take her in.

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