Page 6 of Sexy Bad Boss

Chapter Two

JAMES

“Where’s Myra?” They’re the first words out of my mouth when I wake in a hospital bed and see my brother stretched out, asleep in a chair that’s way too small for his tall, lanky form.

The pain that hits me stirs snippets of memories from last night. Paynt and Chloe’s wedding. The lanterns, the lake, Myra, as always, by my side. That dress she wore, the color really complimented her skin tone. Talking with my mother—God, the woman is relentless. Grandkids, grandkids, grandkids.

Lying in the grass on my back. Everything hurt to some degree, although the pain was focused in my hand, my leg, and the base of my skull. Myra hovering over me, her face a mask of fear and worry as she reassured me everything would be okay.

It was just last night, right? My finger hovers over the button that will provide temporary relief but will also knock me out cold again. I need to know what the hell’s going on, so I grit my teeth and endure the discomfort while I wait for Garrett to wake enough to answer me.

“What day is it?”

With a stretch and a yawn, he rubs his eyes and says, “It’s Sunday, and I assume Myra’s in bed, considering she didn’t leave here until after three this morning.”

“Alone?” Wouldn’t want her walking out to her car by herself in a poorly lit parking lot.

Garrett arches one black brow. “Well, when she left the room, she was alone. And last I heard, she’s currently single. But she’s also an attractive woman, so I suppose it isn’t outside the realm of possibility that she might have picked up a hot, young doc on her way out the door.”

“Shut up.” I lift my right hand to scratch an itch on my temple, but it’s wrapped in several layers of elastic bandage, making it difficult to bend my fingers. Staring at the appendage, I ask, “What happened?”

“I wasn’t there, but Myra says you tripped over the goat and fell off the deck.”

“Tripped over…” I shake my head and pain stabs me behind the eyes, but I push past it, trying to remember… “How?”

Garrett shrugs. “She said you two were on the deck and you started walking backward and Spot must have been directly behind you. You were so close to the railing that you literally did a flip as you went over it and landed on your back in the grass on the other side.”

My body aches like I played football without any pads. Or a helmet. “I’m going to skewer that damn goat and eat it for dinner.”

“I’m going to have to advise against that, bro. Your brother, your new sister-in-law, and my daughter would all be devastated. Even Erin has become attached to the thing.”

I clumsily scratch my temple with my left hand. “Where’s my phone? I want to see if Myra called or texted.”

Garrett scans the room while asking, “What’s your obsession with Myra?”

“I’m not obsessed,” I snip. “She’s my admin. And I know for a fact that I have a bunch of meetings this week.” Did she already tell me she’d rearrange my schedule? There’s a chunk of the evening that seems to be missing from my memory stores. And I have the damnedest sensation whatever’s missing is important. Myra will know what happened. though. She’ll be able to tell me.

“It’s always work with you. Why don’t you relax and let yourself heal for a minute? Pretend you’re a real human being for once.”

“Can’t. Too much going on.” I’m sure my blood pressure is rising as I mentally sort through everything I intended to accomplish this week. “How long will it take for this hand to heal?”

“Probably less time than the leg.” Garrett nods at the bed. I whip off the thin polyester blanket and stare at my left leg, secured with a splint and wrapped with white, elastic bandages. My exposed toes wiggle and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. At least the extremities all appear to work. I almost cup my balls, just to check, but nothing in that area actually hurts, so I’m pretty sure they managed to come out of last night unscathed.

Thank Christ. “How the hell did I do this?”

“Too much champagne?” Garrett suggests.

I catch myself before I shake my head and jar it further. “No. I had my fair share, but I don’t recall being so wasted that I would have tripped over the goddamn goat. But I can’t remember what I was doing before it happened.”

“Probably because of the concussion. Doctor said you might have some temporary short-term memory loss.”

“Will I get it back?” It’s a hell of an uncomfortable feeling to know there’s a gap of time during which something happened, significant or no, that you cannot remember.

“Don’t know. I’m a golfer, not a doctor.” He chuckles at his own lame joke.

“But I am a doctor, so I can fill in the blanks for you.” A woman wearing a white lab coat over a pale yellow summer dress strides into the room. “Good morning, Mr. Frost. I’m Dr. Northbridge. How are you feeling?”