Bedding the Billionaire

CHAPTER 5

Sutton

A loud crash woke me from my sleep. Out of instinct I grabbed the bat by my doorway and raced into the kitchen. In horror, I saw that Mark lying spread eagle on the floor with a nasty gash on his head. That wasn’t the only surprise, either. My neighbor Earl also had a bat in his hands, it was clear what had clobbered Mark, and it looked like Earl might be going in for another swing.

“Stop!” I yelled, causing Earl to pause in his assault.

“Sutton, this here is a burglar,” Earl explained. “It’s called self-defense.”

“No, he’s not a burglar. I invited him to stay for the night!”

Earl’s eyes bobbed between Mark prostrate on the floor and me standing across from him. “Oh,” he murmured, slowly lowering the bat. “I must not have heard that part. Thought he snuck back in.”

“Earl, put that away, and then come and help me see if you’ve killed him.”

“I’m not dead,” Mark mumbled from the floor. I watched as he raised his hands to the bump and noticed that they came away sticky with blood.

“Maybe we should call an ambulance,” Earl suggested as he came back into the room without the baseball bat.

“Earl, where are your pants?’

I had just noticed that Earl was in his tighty-whitey undies and that they were in serious need of a washing. I was a little surprised that he had managed to knock Mark down so readily. Of course, Earl was swinging a Louisville Slugger and Mark was an innocent party not expecting the blow.

Sinking to my knees, I looked into Mark’s eyes. I knew from the emergency room that dilated pupils or uneven dilation could indicate a concussion. “Are you alright?” I asked, hating how my voice shook a little.

Mark looked at me for a long moment. I decided that his pupils looked fairly normal, but still wondered if we should call an ambulance. Mark had sat up and seemed to be gathering his wits.

“What was that?” he asked.

“An old Louisville Slugger,” Earl replied helpfully. “One of those boyfriends left a few when he moved out several years back.”

Mark looked to me with a raised brow. It looked rather ridiculous with his injured forehead. “Not my old boyfriend,” I answered Mark’s unspoken question. “It was one of Mama’s.”

Earl laughed. “Sutton doesn’t have boyfriends. She’s a good girl. Never had any trouble out of her. You should ask my Martha.”

I shook my head. “This is crazy. Mark, are you alright? I can drive you to the hospital in your car or we can call an ambulance if that makes you more comfortable.”

“Never been better,” Mark croaked as he forced himself to stand. At first there was a bit of wobble to his stance, but I noticed that his snark was right on point.

Grabbing some paper towels, I thrust some into Mark’s hand and moved to the sink to get more of them wet. Then I guided him over to a chair and told him to sit. We needed to mop off his injury to see if he needed stitches. I also sent Earl after the first aid kit, just in case.

“Just what in the bloody hell was that about?” Mark demanded.

“Earl must not have heard me tell you that you can stay,” I said, moving in close so that I could start cleaning him up. I tried to ignore the fact that I was in teeny tiny pajamas and he was in a white t-shirt and boxer briefs.

“Does Earl stay often?”

“Why would you ask that?” I paused in my ministering to his head to look down at him.

Mark’s face was even with my breasts, and I noticed that he seemed rather intrigued with the fact that I don’t sleep with a bra. I could feel my nipples beginning to harden and chose to ignore it.

Trying to remember what Mark had asked, I answered his question with a question. “I don’t know. How often is often?”

He grunted something unintelligible that I was grateful not to have heard.

“Twice a week, tops,” I added before I could stop the words from tumbling out of my mouth. I helped him up into a standing position. I tried not to think about the proximity of our bodies as we stood there in my kitchen.

Mr. Williams rolled his eyes. “No, that’s not at all often.”

He looked very out of place in my avocado green kitchen. I tried to tell myself it was retro, but in truth, it was just dated and ugly. I shoved a wave of embarrassment down. I had nothing to be ashamed of.

“I hit the counter on the way down,” he said by way of explanation. “He barely nicked me with the bat.”

“Oh, well, that would explain the gash.” I replied as I started to apply pressure. The cut wasn’t nearly as bad as I had thought it would be. He wouldn’t even need stitches. I also knew that head wounds tended to bleed a lot.

“Should we call someone?” Earl came back in, scratching his left butt cheek and holding the kit in his right hand.

“Animal Control?” Mr. Williams suggested deadpan.

I pinched his arm, hard. His very firm, very muscled biceps, if we are being specific. I felt a jolt of energy zip from my fingertips straight to my lady bits. I liked touching his bare skin.

I allowed myself to take in the way his white t-shirt stretched nicely over his muscular chest. Shit, if I wasn’t careful, I would soon be drooling. Hot damn! Who would have thought that the overly stuffy Mr. Williams would have all these delicious bad boy muscles underneath those preppy clothes?

Mr. Williams didn’t even flinch when I pinched him. He didn’t wince when I cleaned up his wound, nor did he complain when I put on the bandage. He was a very good patient, but I wasn’t sure if he would accept that as a compliment or not, so I kept it to myself.

I did say, “I am terribly sorry this happened.”

“It will heal soon enough,” he said gruffly.

“But I would feel better if it hadn’t happened.”

He looked at me dryly, “Have you ever gotten a cut, Miss Landry?”

“Of course, I have,” I retorted.

“Bumps, bruises,” he continued, “scrapes or tears of any kind?”

“Yes,” I said, a little bit of irritation slipping in. What was he getting at?

“So, have I,” he said tersely. “Accidents happen.”

He was right. They certainly did happen. Although, I am not sure that getting attacked with a bat by my elderly neighbor in the wee hours of the morning was your typical run of the mill accident. However, that was another thing I chose to stay silent about.

I gathered up all of the things I had been using. I threw away the soiled items and gave the first aid kit back to Earl.

Just as I went to get Mr. Williams a glass of water and something for his head, he grabbed my arm. Again, that surge of awareness flashed through me. I was tired as fuck and beyond cranky, but shit if the man didn’t have the ability to melt my panties at the softest of touches. Contentt bel0ngs to N0ve/lDrâ/ma.O(r)g!

“Yes?” It may have come out sharper than I intended. Mr. Williams made me extremely nervous, and we were both tired.

“Thank you,” he said under his breath, almost as if it were forced from his lungs.

“For what?” I turned, folding my arms and glaring at him. “For making you come to Otterville Falls to fetch me? Or for forcing you to wait through my entire shift? Perhaps because of the way I let you sleep on my terrible couch? Oh, I know! It’s for bringing you into my home and letting an elderly man assault you. You are very welcome, Mr. Williams.”

His lips twitched and a small smile managed to break through.

Suddenly my irritation faded as quickly has it had risen.

“You are a menace,” he said with a twinkle in his eye that I wasn’t used to being there.

“You aren’t going to be suing me and the misses, are you sir?” Earl asked shakily.

I choked back a laugh at Mr. Williams’ expression of horror and disgust. I imagined that there was nothing Earl possessed that would be the slightest interest to Mr. Williams.

“Err, no, Earl. You were just protecting Miss Landry. I understand.”

I felt a surge of kindness towards Mark. In that one sentence, he had managed to make Earl feel like a king.

Honestly, Earl was more likely trying to protect the beer that he kept in the bottom of my fridge. His wife Martha wouldn’t allow him to have any there. But I wasn’t going to interrupt this tender moment with silly things like the truth.

“You are a fine gentleman, sir!” Earl said with enthusiasm. Then, and I kid you not, Earl, wearing dingy underwear, executed a sort of half-bow salute.

Mr. Williams froze, either in horror or disbelief. I wasn’t sure. “Am I hallucinating?”

The strangled question had me fighting back a laugh. I put on a bright smile, “Earl, isn’t that fantastic? Your kindness and respect have led Mr. Williams to believe that he is dreaming. Isn’t that right, Mr. Williams?”

Mark looked at me like I had lost my fucking marbles, and he wouldn’t be far off. I moved closer and pinched him again, loving the feel of his skin against my fingertips. Not that I was thinking about that— because I wasn’t.

“Erm, yes, Earl, I am delighted?” Mark might have been slow on the uptake, but he came through like a champ.

A broad smile broke across the elderly man’s face, and I could have kissed Mr. Williams right on the spot.

“Earl, it’s been a long night. Why don’t you get back to bed?”

Earl scratched his butt again. “I reckon you are right, Sutton. I am tired.”

Lord, weren’t we all. I couldn’t remember a time when I was more tired.

As Earl made his way down the darkened hallway, I breathed a sigh of relief.

That was until Mr. Williams pinned me to the kitchen counter. He wasn’t touching me, per se. But his arms were locked on either side of my waist, and he was leaning into me with what I would consider a threatening manner.

“Did you need something, Mr. Williams?” My voice was barely a whisper.

“You owe me.” His steel gray eyes bore into mine. The heat that was there earlier had only deepened.

I didn’t even pretend not to know what he was speaking about. I would assume that there were not many times that he had to placate members of the octogenarian set. It didn’t matter. Mark had warmed my heart and I didn’t want him spoiling it.

“It didn’t hurt you,” I muttered, feeling the tremendous source of heat coming from his body.

He lifted his hand to touch the bandage on his head, “I beg to differ.”

I used the opening to slip away, “Come and take some painkillers and then we need to get to bed.”

He stopped when I said the last word.

“What?” I turned back to him. “You should take something for the swelling, and I need to wash my hands again. I don’t want stains on my sheets.”

He blinked. “Of course you don’t. Let me come and wash up.”

Standing side by side at the sink, I felt very domesticated. The heat from his body radiated across the small space. I wanted to lean into him. Hell, I wanted to plaster myself all over him. But I behaved— barely.