Theres something seriously messed up with a bunch of old men being so concerned with protecting my chastity, Wil iam said, trying to sound unconcerned, but he could never disguise the way he was truly feeling in his eyes.
Youre special and al , but this isnt any kind of special treatment theyre trying to torture you with. They treated us al like we were a bunch of hormone drunk teenage boys that couldnt be trusted up until the day we were United, Cora said.
The Council final y got one thing right when it comes to Bryn. Wil iam looked at me, his grin growing broader when I crossed my arms in a huff.
You, Cora stomped, pointing at Wil iam. Get out of here. Wel wait here for ten minutes before we go. And dont be obvious when you leave. Go out on a ride or something. Cora nodded down the rows of stable. The horses are getting fat.
Yes, maam, Wil iam said, shooting her a salute after he came to a stand.
And you . . . She grabbed my elbow, steering me towards the doors. Youre coming with me. You cant be trusted to your own devices for an event such as tonight, so you wil be makeover putty in Abigails and my capable hands.
Wil iam lunged through the stal just in time to brush a kiss over my lips. Il see you soon. Il meet you on the dance floor. He winked, his expression confident.
I swal owed. Save me a dance, I cal ed after him as he jogged down the barns wide hal , heading for the pasture.
For goodness sakes, woman. Cora came to a screeching halt. Why are you wearing Josephs sweatshirt? Her eyes roamed down lower. And his underwear?
I sighed. Its a long story, Cor, and trust me when I tel you its one Il never repeat.
Its a darn good thing my purse slash oversized luggage lives by the adage, always be prepared. She slung her purse forward, propping it up with a knee, rifling through its contents. She bit her lip, her arm disappearing up to her armpit in the bags depths. Aha! she exclaimed, pul ing out a trench coat so lightweight it was paper-thin.
Why do you have a trench coat in your purse? I asked as she shook it open.
Shrugging, she said, A beige trench coat is this fal s must-have outerwear accessory. Turns out its todays must have accessory for getting you out of the barn without making it blaringly obvious you and Wil iam were up to no good last night. She circled her eyes around my morning attire.
These are Josephs, I said, pul ing at the sweatshirt. Not Wil iams.
I know that and you know that, but do you think anyone else would?
I peered at the bulky Stanford sweatshirt and equal y bulky boxers. Nope, no difference, I admitted, impressed. Cora real y had thought this al out. Except my man smel s a hundred times better than yours, I added, taking a whiff of the sleeve.
Regardless of the season, Joseph always smel ed like fresh-cut grass and a summer morning. It was a pleasant smel , but even if he smel ed like one hundred percent kona coffee and my favorite kind of dark chocolate, Wil iam stil would have smel ed a hundred times better. Nothing smel ed better than love.
Take those off. She nodded at my pajamas. Put this on and . . . She went on another scavenger hunt through her purse, retrieving a pair of classic black flats that were way too big for her tiny feet. She tossed them to the floor and I slipped my bare feet in them. They couldnt have fit better if theyd been hand tailored.
You knew this would happen, I said, pul ing the sweatshirt over my head.
Of course I did. She grabbed the sweatshirt and tossed it in her bag. I had a feeling the Council would be showing up early, so I armed my trusty bag”she patted the yel ow leather purse”and when I found your room absent of its occupant this morning, and Patrick cal ed to let me know Wil iams was the same, I started the search.
She grinned at me. It didnt take too long. You guys werent exactly very creative . . . or romantic, she said, curling her nose at the barn.
Yeah, wel , sometimes circumstance and resourcefulness makes up for creativity and romance when thats al youve got to work with, I said, pul ing down the boxers, now standing basical y na**d in front of Cora save for the pale pink lace panty and bra set. It seemed wrong two people other than Wil iam had seen the scanty excuse for underwear Id picked out with him in mind.
Hot mama! Cora exclaimed, looking me head to toe. Wil iams going to bust something when he sees you in that.
Hey, Cora, the coast is clear, a new voice shouted right around the corner. A teleported voice that was going to be rounding the corner quicker than I could duck behind the mountain of hay bales off to the side announced. Holy lingerie! Patrick exclaimed, braking to a stop the instant he saw me. I mean, he shook his head, trying to look away, but he wasnt successful. I mean . . . holy boobs” he shouted, his face instantly red.
Patrick! Cora and I both yel ed out at him in disapproval, but his roaming stare had me frozen where I stood.
Wow. Just . . . wow, he breathed, his eyes final y moving north until they met mine. Youre perfect.
A flying apple hit him right in the nose, clearing his expression of everything that had just been there. And youre a perv, Cora scolded, shuffling through the barrel for another one.
Patrick lunged behind the nearest wal , fearing for something more important to him than his life”his facial bone structure.
That was just a warning shot, or apple, Cora yel ed, winding her arm back with the next one ready to launch. Come around that corner again and youl suffer the wrath of my speedbal , speed apple.
This is the thanks I get for helping you out? Patrick shot back, but his voice had dimmed. He was leaving. Those Haywards were smart men when it came down to it. Although Id say I received my thanks seeing Bryn in nothing but her scivvies. He chuckled the one he was most known for.