Page 28 of The Damaged Billionaire

“You have your own to look at.” I am not taking Tennyson to my bedroom. I already know that if we go there, we are not coming out. For days.

“At least the dog hasn’t eaten them,” he mumbles, and as if on cue, Bob barks. We jump up to look outside to see what trouble he has found, and I stand stunned. Bob and Betty have found each other and are currently in a standoff in the backyard.

“Betty! Come here! Here puss, puss, puss,” I yell as I open the door, trying to get her away, but I see her back arched and her hair standing on end.

“Bob! Come here, boy,” Tennyson yells, stepping outside with me as Bob jumps around like it is playtime, not at all aware that he is about to get his eyes scratched out.

“Shit,” we both say in unison as we make a mad dash out the door, the two of us sprinting in opposite directions just as Betty pounces.

“I’ve got him!” Tennyson yells, jumping on Bob and grabbing him, pulling him up to his body and tucking him under his arm.

“Betty!” I say, trying to get her, but she is still not trusting of me, so she hisses some more and I watch as she flies through the air, her claws grabbing on to Tennyson's arm as she tries to get to his dog.

“Son of a bitch!” he shouts, turning swiftly, the cat dropping and sprinting to the fence, then scrambling away from the yard.

Tennyson lets go of Bob, who bounces around like he is having the time of his life, then marking his territory on a nearby bush.

“Let me get the first aid kit,” I say, grimacing at Tennyson's bloody arms.

“Can you put a nurse's uniform on? I think that would help with the pain.”

Rolling my eyes, I reach out and pull his arm toward me to look at the damage. It isn’t deep and has only just broken the skin, but I know what cat scratches are like. They sting for a bit before they get better.

“How did you know I have a nurse’s uniform?” I tease once I’ve looked him over.

“Jesus. You’re serious? Now you really need to go in and put it on. I think I would like you to play dress-up for me,” he says, smirking, my hands still holding his.

“Maybe I can be a naughty nurse for Halloween this year?” I act nonchalant, shrugging my shoulders, and he growls in response.

“There is no fucking way anyone but me will be seeing you in a naughty nurse’s uniform,” he grumbles, shaking his head, and I huff out a small laugh.

“David fucking Taylor Smith. I hate him even more now.”

“You and me both, Tennyson,” I say, pulling him inside so I can clean him up, his fingers intertwined with mine.

And even if it’s just for a moment, I revel in that simple touch.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - TENNYSON

The morning dew steams from the manicured grass, and for the first time in a long time, I feel good. I’m sleeping better. My body isn’t as stiff, my mind feels clear. I got up with ease this morning instead of with a raging headache. My mind is sharper and energy hums through me and I know it is all because of Willow. The changes we are implementing to my routine and lifestyle, along with her just being around, seem to be making a difference.

“What are you smiling about?” Harrison asks me as he walks past where I am standing to take his shot.

“I’m smiling because I am going to beat all you fuckers this morning,” I say, feeling confident that I will win these eighteen holes, even though we are only up to the third hole. My brother takes his shot, and the ball flies through the air, landing near the tee.

“By the look of his shot, he is in fine form today,” Ben murmurs as he and Eddie sit in the golf cart, waiting for Harrison and me.

“Seriously, what’s with the stupid grin?” Harrison asks again as he throws his club in his golf bag and looks at me.

“What grin?” I ask, trying to ignore his statement, even though I do feel pretty good this morning.

“That grin.” He points to my face, and I try to keep my lips down, but I know they quirk up at the sides.

“What? I have had a good few weeks is all,” I say, shrugging as we jump into the cart, and Ben drives us down the fairway.

“How’re things with Willow?” Harrison asks, and I don’t miss as Ben’s eyes flick to me in the small rearview mirror. I haven’t spoken to my brothers in depth since the intervention, so there’s no doubt in my mind that all of them thought I would be hard to handle.

“Fine. She’s good,” I reply simply, not really wanting to get into details.

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