7. Winter

SEVEN

WINTER

" H oly fucking mother of shit!"

I yell as my feet touch the hot water laced with Epsom salt. Kitty runs into the bathroom, where I'm attempting to step into the free-standing tub.

"Off duty," I croak, and he does a double take before stepping outside the bathroom. He sits with his huge eyes trained on me, really taking that whole obedient-disobedience training to heart.

I sink further into the water, and the pain grounds me.

When I exited the Brigham estate, I was dismayed that the Uber driver—whom I paid two hundred whole American dollars to wait for me—was nowhere to be found. Hoping he'd just moved to a shadier spot, Kitty and I began the ten-minute trek down the tree-lined drive only to be further dismayed upon realizing, yep, he's fucking gone.

Dismay turned into near hysteria when I realized my fancy Italian leather briefcase was leaning against my seat in the sitting room of the aforementioned estate. Within said Italian leather briefcase was my iPhone. Kitty sat on top of my sensible heels, forcing me to stop and breathe.

Rationally—okay, irrationally—deciding that facing the Brighams was more undesirable than facing a hungry pack of wild jackals, I exited the gate and continued walking down the hill toward the convenience store we passed on the way in.

Someone will have a phone. I'll call Veronica, I thought. After all, she's the only person whose phone number I have memorized.

Since I so clearly did not dominate the day, I was unsurprised when sheets of rain started to pelt me once I hit the convenience store parking lot.

Kitty's drowned side eye as he tensely scanned for threats made me feel even worse.

Once the rain started, I ran with him clutched to my chest.

Arriving at the convenience store and convincing the clerk to let me use his phone was surprisingly easy. But it wasn't until I got in Veronica's Mercedes, still wet from the rain and fountain swim, that I realized my drenched white shirt clearly showed every bit of my breast, areola, and nipple.

I flashed Hunter Brigham.

Back in the bathroom, I continue cursing as my feet throb and sharp shears of pain streak through my soles and up my calves.

"How ya hanging, sweet stuff?" Veronica's voice comes from the doorway where she stands next to Kitty.

Kitty looks up to her for instruction, and Veronica bends to pet his head.

She was there every step of the way while I trained Kitty almost four years ago. Part of the training is public exposure, so while the trainer was able to start in my home with the Lances, we eventually had to go outside. No matter how tired Rons was from a shift in the hospital, if I needed her to hold my hand while I went to the drug store with a super excitable Kitty by my side, she was there.

And now, she looks at me with so much sympathy my nose burns as the sudden urge to cry snaps into my soul .

For all my talk of this job not being the end all be all, the fact that I screwed it up so royally, paired with the painful walk because my anxiety got the best of me, has me feeling…down.

"Oh, honey," she says, gliding toward me. Overnight she went from flat stomach to a little pooch. It's adorable. But if she tries to hug me, I know I'll lose it.

"Ughhhhh," I say with a long breath before ducking my head under the water. I stay there for a few seconds, listening to the dampened sounds of Veronica sighing and saying what sounds like, "Winter, c'mon."

"Up!" she presses, her voice raised. I sit up and wipe the sudsy water from my eyes.

I sigh.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She sits on the lip of the tub, unfazed by my nudity. We've seen each other naked a million times over the years. When she got an ingrown hair that she was sure was an STI, she enlisted me to look at it before she went to her gyno. And she's definitely seen me naked and vulnerable and at my worst.

I close my eyes against my memories. What a hellacious day.

"I don't really want to talk about it, Rons. In fact, going to sleep and never waking up sounds real nice right now."

Her eyebrows crease in immediate concern. "Winter…"

Sensing my friend's distress, I reassure her. "No, no—not in a…I'm not depressed. I'm not suicidal. Nothing like that," I say.

The crease doesn't move from her eyebrows.

I can't joke with Veronica like that. She'll never find talk like that funny, especially when it comes to me.

I continue, "I'm just being your regular degular melodramatic millennial. For real, Rons. I'll be okay. I'm just really down on myself right now. I let my anxiety control me, and I ended up hurting myself in the process. "

In more than one way.

"Can you explain why you thought the interview went so badly? It sounds like you stood up for your client, which is exactly what you're supposed to do."

I swallow, my throat tight.

"Yeah, I guess that part wasn't so bad. It's just that I was yelling and cursing and not at all professional. Then I freaking flashed the boss and?—"

"Wait, skrrrt. Pause. What do you mean you flashed him?" Veronica looks delightfully scandalized.

"It wasn't on purpose. I fell into the fountain and my shirt got wet."

"You…fell. Into a fountain. I thought you were all wet from the rain. Pray tell how that happened?" She's outwardly amused now.

"Ugh, don't worry about it. Just know that it was embarrassing, and I was embarrassing. I am embarrassment."

"Oh, Winter," she says before leaning closer to me to give me a love tap on the shoulder. She slaps her hands on her thighs. "Will you be okay for the night? James will be home in the morning, and I wanted to get the house ready for him." She glances at her smartwatch, frowns, and then looks back at me.

I wave her off. "I'll be fine. I just need to do something about these feet." I raise my leg so my foot is above the water. The blisters formed quickly and many of them have already popped.

She hugs my head and gives me a quick peck on my hairline. "Love ya, sister. Call if you need me."

"I will," I promise.

Veronica stands and pauses in front of the mirror, taking in her profile and gliding her palm over her baby bump. I'm unsure what she's thinking as she stares at her reflection, but something shifts in my stomach as I look at her. Finally, she shakes her head and exits the bathroom. A few moments later, I hear the mechanical whirr of my apartment door locking, and I sink back into the tub.

If I look at things objectively, the interview didn't go too horribly. I think I answered some of Ella's questions well. But she only got to ask three things before everything went down.

My cheeks warm in embarrassment as I recall how I yelled and behaved in front of everyone. How I behaved in front of Mr.Brigham.

Hunter.

His eyes…

I close my eyes against the memory of Hunter Brigham and how unsettled he made me with just one touch. When he grabbed me, I didn't feel panic, as I usually would when anyone—especially a man—touches me.

When I first got Kitty, I had to switch service animal trainers because being in the room with a man triggered all my sore spots. He was a kind man, so I'm grateful that he took my rejection in stride.

But with Hunter, as I felt his strong hand circling my wrist, for the first time in…forever…I felt secure. Safe.

Insanity, Winter. Pure insanity.

Still, I keep my eyes closed as I think about looking up at Hunter Brigham while sprawled in his ornate fountain. My skirt rode up a bit, and with how tight it was, I know if I moved the wrong way, I would have flashed him.

I heat up in the cooling bath water. He seems strong, like he's athletic but not overly muscular.

I bet he fucks like a god.

My eyes snap open at the thought. My cheeks and chest flush, and my nipples pearl against my will.

"Take a breath, girl," I say to the empty bathroom.

I count silently as my eyes shut again. But despite my efforts to keep Hunter Brigham out of my mind, he slides back in. Except this time when he waltzes into my subconscious, I let him stay. In the fantasy, I kneel in the water fountain, looking up at him as he walks closer. I meet his eyes as I spread my thighs as far as my skirt lets me. It's just me and him in the courtyard, and I feel bold. Powerful.

He stalks toward me, his thick, muscular thighs flexing with each step and says, "Let me see you."

That rough, deep voice of his heats me thoroughly.

I comply, spreading my thighs and pulling my skirt up over my ass to rest on my waist.

"Fuck," he growls.

I open my legs in the bath water just as I do in my imagination.

"Touch yourself," he commands. I run a finger up and down across my slit. He rasps out a low, nearly feral sound as I continue stroking my clit and pushing lower to ease a finger into my sex.

He walks even closer; his confidence and intoxicating presence edges out my vision. I'm close to coming, my essence mixing with the water beneath me.

He puts his hand on his waistband and says, "If you get to come, so do I." He holds my eyes and moves his hand inside his pants to stroke his cock. "Want me to pull it out?"

"Yes," I hiss. The sound echoes around the courtyard and off the tiles of my bathroom floor. His smile is devilish—he's here to pull me down into hell. I know he is.

"Don't come until I say so," he demands, and lowering his pants?—

I jerk my hand from my snatch and splash water over the side of the bathtub.

My heart races at the sharp knock at my front door.

Kitty barks wildly, not used to visitors who aren't Veronica.

Another knock rings out, and I determine that whoever is on the other side of the door isn't there by accident and means to talk to me.

"One second," I yell in the direction of the door, sounding more irritable than I intend. I rip my fluffy robe off the back of the bathroom door.

Walking toward the door and dripping bath water with each step, I deepen my voice and yell, "Who is it!"

That sounds intimidating.

"Ms.Vaughan? It's Ella Brigham. We met today? I brought your belongings. Could you open the door?"

Holy shit, Ella Brigham is at my door.

"You couldn't have called me?" I yell out, my voice at my usual tenor.

"I tried, but you didn't answer," she says back with a slight note of amused exasperation. It's then that I remember that my phone, likely dead, is in the briefcase she probably has in her hands. Duh.

I creep closer to the door and look out the peephole.

Yup. Ella Brigham is at my door. And she's alone.

That thought doesn't make me as relieved as it should.

Maybe because you wanted him to be with her.

I shut that train of thought down quickly.

"I wasn't expecting company," I yell through the door. "Just give me a moment to get dressed."

"Okey dokey!" Ella says brightly, and I snort at the unexpected reply.

After sliding into the mustard yellow silk pajamas I'd pulled out before I got into the tub, I take a deep breath and open the door.

"Thank you for bringing my stuff, Ms.Brigham. I'm sorry you had to come all this way." I stretch my arm out to grab the bag from her.

"It's all good, I promise." She still holds the bag close to her chest. My arm hangs in the air, empty handed.

"Um…" I say, reaching out more to grab the bag.

"Could I come in? Can we talk?" she says, and my hand freezes over the briefcase's handle .

Kitty sits next to me, and his huff sounds exasperated. This is cutting into his rest time.

"Is it a requirement for me to get my stuff back?" I raise an eyebrow.

She sighs. "No, but I'd really like to talk with you all the same."

It's my turn to sigh.

She smiles brightly.

"Sure, come on in," I grumble, moving aside for her to walk through.

Once inside, she spins around and holds the bag out as if presenting an award to me. I take it from her, pull my phone out, and put it on the charger.

"Relax," I call over to Kitty, who is more than happy to oblige. The trek through the rain wore him out too, so he curls into himself on his dog bed and closes his eyes.

"Here's the deal, Winter," she says, and I turn around to see her making herself at home on my sofa. Okay, so a long talk. Got it. "I— We want to offer you the job. Will you accept?" She smiles at me again with that radiant, perfect Ms.America smile.

I blink, knowing I must be gaping at her.

"You want to offer me the job. Forgive me if this is a dumb question, but why?"

She tilts her head to the side, studying me. "Why wouldn't we offer you the job?"

"Because we didn't even really have an interview?"

"I saw what I needed to see," she says.

"I see," I say, not seeing. At all.

"Here's the thing, Winter," she says, and I'm confused as hell when she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a Halloween-sized Airhead. Cherry flavored, from the looks of it. "I really like you. I like you for August. August likes you—he told me so. And I really like how you protected him today. "

Another blink from me.

"And Mr.Brigham?" I say, biting my nails.

Her smile tightens. "He's in the loop," she says cryptically.

"I don't know, Ms.Brigham?—"

"Ella," she says, cutting me off with a smile. "And we're prepared to compensate you thoroughly." She pulls a folded paper from her pocket and hands it to me. I unfold it, smoothing out the creases, and immediately notice the offer letter and enclosed check. I gasp.

"What's the 50,000 dollars for?" I don't know if the buzzing in my ears is from my shout or because I'm about to pass out.

Kitty lifts his head, and I put my hand out, signaling for him to stay.

My head starts to spin.

"Consider it a sign-on bonus." She clasps her hands in her lap and sits up straight. She's enjoying this for some reason.

"What's the catch?"

"No catch, Winter. Really. I just want my nephew to get better. To get the help he needs. I know you can help him." Her smile turns sad.

I hum and look over the offer letter. They're offering enough hours for me to complete my required clinical experience and then some over the next two semesters. The salary and benefits make my eyes water. Most practicum placements are paid a hair above minimum wage, if at all.

My parents left behind a sizable inheritance plus the insurance payout when they died. I'm not starved for money. And yet, if this degree doesn't work out and I end up sick again, I'll need to be able to support myself.

The Brigham's offer of a half-million dollars would be an incredible safety net. Or seed money for the Ranch.

You could get started and really do this thing, Winter.

"This feels too good to be true, Ella. And it's been my experience that when things sound too good to be true, they usually are." I refold the paper.

She nods. "I hear you, Winter. But I hope you'll really consider helping my nephew." I watch her throat work as she swallows. "He needs your help."

I bring my hand back to my mouth but lower it when the tang of blood hits my tongue. Bitten to the quick.

Think of what you could do. Think of how you could change his life.

"When would I start?" I say after a moment.

She bounces with excitement as she jumps up and hugs me. She lets out a slight squeal.

"This calls for candy," she says, pulling a handful from her designer jeans.