The fluttering sensation in her rib cage was so intense, she had to turn away from the big, gorgeous sight of him and his sleep-mussed hair or she would never do what needed to be done. After putting on her robe and closing the bedroom door without a sound, Josephine made a cup of coffee, fortified herself with a few sips, and called the contractor.
Ignoring the dread in her belly, she gave him the thumbs-up to begin the work, effectively starting the countdown clock on her time caddying for Wells.
What other choice did she have? They had to pay rent to the club. A course needed a shop. Sure, they understood that the Golden Tee needed to rebuild after the hurricane, but they would eventually begin expecting monthly payments. Life moved on and it moved fast.
The coffee cup was halfway to Josephine’s lips when a very familiar sound greeted her ears—the back and forth of her parents’ bickering. And that sound was moving down the hallway toward her apartment door.
Dread pulsed in her stomach for an entirely different reason now.
She’d forgotten about brunch. They were there to pick her up for an early birthday celebration, because she was going to be in California on Wednesday, when she officially turned twenty-seven. They were not going to find their daughter ready for fancy eggs and mimosas; however, they were going to find her looking like she’d tossed a man’s salad in the shower, before getting manhandled in a way that had probably taken the bounce out of several mattress springs. Which was all gloriously true.
She’d had stupefyingly good sex with a man who was still in her bed. Fully naked. And her apartment wasn’t large by any stretch of the imagination, so the muffled snores of her boss/lover could be heard clear to the kitchen if one listened hard enough. Not ideal. This was incredibly not ideal.
I got this.
I can handle this.
If I can handle Wells’s temper on the golf course, two retirees should be a piece of cake.
Wishful thinking, but okay.
They were knocking now. This was happening.
Josephine tightened the belt of her robe and gathered her hair into a knot, securing it with a stray hairband from her junk drawer. She took a deep breath, wished herself luck, and opened the door—
It promptly sagged on its hinges, thudding loudly on the floor. Damn.
She smiled brightly. “Good morning!”
“Josephine!” her mother sputtered. “What happened to the door?”
“Well.” Think. Think! “Yesterday, while I was out. At the store buying goods.” Goods? Have you been transported back to colonial times? “Someone in the building called in the smell of gas. So the fire department showed up and since I wasn’t home, they had to barge in. It was a whole thing.”
“The landlord doesn’t have your key?” asked Jim.
“He was also at the store. Yup. I saw him there. Buying . . . goods.”
This was why Josephine never lied. She was as translucent as a window. Both of her parents were staring at her as if homemade pasta noodles were oozing from her ears.
“Anyway, come in, come in.” She ushered them through the doorway, corralling them in the direction of the small living room, snatching up the remote, and turning the volume on the television way up to drown out the snoring. “I’m sorry. I slept late, but I’ll just throw on some clothes and we’ll go. Give me five minutes.”
Her father looked at his watch while reluctantly parking himself on the couch, along with his wife. “But the reservation is for ten o’clock.”
Josephine groaned inwardly. Who had brunch at ten a.m.? “They’ll give us a grace period. Also, no one is going to be there this early.”
Jim did a double take. “Early? I’ve been up since five!”
“I’m going to get dressed. I’ll get ready as fast as I can.”
Josephine spun out of the living area, intending to wake up Wells and quickly explain the awkward situation while putting on some clothes—
Wells walked out of the hallway in a pair of white boxer briefs.
Never mind the incredible things they did for his godlike thighs—and almost definitely, his rear, though she didn’t have the right angle, sadly—he was out in the open now. In full view of the living room. But at a glance, Josephine could see that Wells was still half asleep, a big dopey-smiled lion on the prowl . . . and quite unaware that her parents were sitting on her couch in the living room.
Otherwise, he wouldn’t have scooped her up by the butt and planted a kiss on her mouth that was intimate and full of sensual promise. And tongue. Also known as the kind of kiss a girl never, ever wanted her parents to witness.