A trail of stunned businessmen who mistook her pink lipstick for weakness instead of the war paint it is.
She’s a a cyclone of complete chaos, she moves with frenetic energy that sweeps up everyone and everything around her.
Or even muttering about market projection formulas, risk analysis ratios, and pop song one-liners like some kind of tiny financial guerrilla warrior with a built-in soundtrack.
What I do not expect is her on her hands and knees, pert little ass in the air, her damn head shoved through the baggage claim flaps, and that tiny pencil skirt riding up, revealing smooth, toned thighs as she argues with airport personnel, her voice carrying across the terminal.
What the…Jesus Christ.
I should intervene. I should absolutely step in and handle this situation with the calm, strategic precision the Army drilled into me.
But this is Holly we’re talking about. And I’m on vacation.
Instead, I pull out my phone, a shit-eating grin spreading across my face. I have a best friend to pay back for saddling me with his sister-sitting duties whilehe'sbusy playing house withmysister, Charlie.
The one he was not supposed to diddle, but diddled anyway last Christmas. And in a particularly cheap kick to the balls, he sent me a damn pic of her with her freshly fucked glow in a goddamn lip-lock with him.
I’m delivering brutal payback until the kids they don’t have yet go to college.
Me
[image attached] I'm charging you a handling fee. This was not part of the plan
Nick
What the hell is she doing?
Me
Giving everyone a show while she threatens baggage claim personnel. Gonna need to add hazard pay to that fee
Nick
Get her off her knees!
Me
That's what she said
Nick
When I get my hands on you, you’re a dead man
Me
Death by Holly seems more likely. Rabid little thing. I’ll send you the med bills
Nick
I’m serious.
Me
Nice to meet you, Serious I'm your sister's new handler. Want to help me pick out a collar and leash for her.
Nick
Get her out of there dammit.
