Page 14 of Sexy Bad Boss

Chapter Four

JAMES

“Nice outfit,” my sister says as she struts into my house without knocking.

I scowl down at the gaudy getup I haven’t yet been able to change out of. My clothes are upstairs, with Myra, who hasn’t made an appearance since she headed up there two hours ago. “It’s Garrett’s. Apparently the hospital personnel destroyed my suit when they set my leg and hand.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but it looks way better on him.”

She’s right. Our brother is the only man I know who can wear pink argyle slacks and look damn good doing it. Or so his female fan base claims.

“You’re off the hook,” Ronnie adds. “Mom and Dad are staying at Paynt’s house and taking care of the goat.”

I rub my eyes and catch my laptop before it can tumble off my lap and onto the floor. It’s at least the seventeenth such save since I settled onto the couch earlier today. Already I’m weary of my temporary handicaps and it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours.

“Good.” I freeze. “Wait. Does that mean…”

“They know what happened? Yep. Well, at least as much as any of us know.” She waggles her eyebrows like there’s some big bad secret she’s expecting me to divulge.

“No, I don’t remember, and goddamn it, why did you tell them? Now Mom’s going to come over here and treat me like a child. She’ll probably boot Myra out and move in herself, and I cannot—”

“So Myra took you up on your offer, huh? Rather, your demand.”

“I didn’t—”

“You did. You always do. You should try playing nice once in a while. Treat the woman like, you know, a woman. Or better yet, a lady.”

“You’re talking in riddles, Ms. Feminist.”

She snorts. “It’s entirely possible to be a feminist and a lady, trust me. Where’s your liquor? Despite my jet-setting lifestyle, I hate flying. And an Uber is taking me to the airport in an hour.”

“I assume you want my Johnny Walker Blue Label?” My sister is as much a spirits snob as I am. “It’s in the dining room. Sideboard. Top shelf, to the left. Glasses are there, too, and why don’t you make two while you’re at it.”

“Where is Myra, anyway?” Ronnie asks when she returns with two lowball glasses half-filled with honey-colored blended scotch over ice.

I savor the first taste before responding. According to my doctor, I shouldn’t mix booze with the pain meds, but according to me, there’s never a bad time to spend with my dear friend Johnny Walker.

“Upstairs. Napping.” I furrow my brow. “Shit. I didn’t even think about the sheets until now.”

“What about them?” Ronnie makes herself comfortable on my recliner, pulling up the footrest and sighing as she sips her drink.

“She had to change them. The housekeeper doesn’t come until Wednesday, and I’ve been sleeping in them, obviously.”

“Or she’s snuggled up with her face buried in your pillow, pretending she’s sleeping with you.”

I arch my brow. “I take it this isn’t your first drink of the day.”

“How does someone who is so oblivious run such a successful business?”

“I’m beginning to wonder if it’s only drinks you’ve had.”

“Ronnie, what a surprise.” We both turn at the sound of Myra’s voice as she hurries down the stairs, tugging on the sash of her robe. She’s flushed and her hair is askew, like her nap was a restless one. I can relate. My first night in a bed other than my own is always difficult too.

“Hey, Myra,” Ronnie lifts her drink in salute. “Thought I’d pop in to check on my brother before heading back to New York. See if you’d decided to take that offer.”

“What offer?” I ask sharply.