55. Epic Levels of Suck
EPIC LEVELS OF SUCK
EMBERLEIGH
“Challenge accepted.” Braxton salutes me when we walk into the house, unable to avoid the boarded-up front porch window and how it changed the way the light plays in the room. It’s darker, more somber. Totally fitting.
“Smart-ass.” Not a great retort, but it’s all I have.
“I’ll fix you some breakfast while you shower. I’ll be behind you quickly.”
“Not wasting time when we could be getting to Austin.” I begin stripping as I wander toward the bathroom.
The growl behind me follows me down the hall. “Woman, I don’t have time to fuck you, so stop tempting me.”
“Yeah, yeah.” The smile on my face, one he can’t see, is relief and joy and love. It’s knowing this is all over. It’s having Colt safe and getting to release the worry that the other shoe will soon drop.
I step under the hot stream and pause just for a moment.
I wish this could be a long, luxurious shower.
I consider losing the bet and stealing an extra few minutes as the water washes the filth from my skin.
Apparently, I take longer than I expect, because the door opens, the steam billowing from the room and cool air of the bedroom snaking in.
“Braxton!”
“Sandwich and hot coffee on the table for you. Colt’s bag is packed. Trade me.” He pulls open the door, towel extended, head turned.
“What? Does my body disgust you?” I step out and wrap the towel around myself.
He lifts me under my armpits, spins one hundred and eighty degrees and sets me down, stepping into the shower fully dressed and stripping under the stream.
“What was that for?” I yell over the water.
“Baby, if I see you naked, we’ll need an extra hour before we can get on the road.
Check that. I don’t even have to see you naked.
I could picture it and we’d need almost an hour.
But you”—he emphasizes the word by stretching it out like an accusation—“said we didn’t have any extra time.
You said we had to hurry and that you could beat me at getting ready. You said—”
I don’t hear the rest because I pull the door closed loudly, me outside of it, and rush to get dressed.
Braxton Ranger is a smart-ass. I love it.
I run a wet brush through my hair, rougher than I need to, brush my teeth, and moisturize my face. I can throw on makeup in the car. I pull on a tee, jeans, and running shoes. I pack a change of clothes and throw my toothbrush into the bag.
I am not this low maintenance. I’m not low maintenance at all, but I’m not going to be the one who slows us down from getting there.
Laptop and cell… no clue where that is. I open up the finder app from my computer while I scarf down the sandwich.
It’s ham and cheese, like I ate when I was a kid. It’s delicious.
My phone pings at Pop’s, and I’m tempted to leave it there so I don’t have to go in.
“What’s that?” Braxton wraps his arms lightly around my belly from behind, slides the hair from my neck with his freshly-shaved jaw, and kisses me lightly under my ear.
A shiver runs the length of me and his corresponding chuckle says he knows it.
“My phone. It’s at Pop’s house.”
“We’ll stop on our way.”
“I, um… Well, I don’t know…”
“I’ll run in, baby. Just call it or whatever so I can find it. Okay?”
I nod. Not able to do more.
“Let’s go, Em.”
I start.
“I know. But it’s going to happen. And I’m not dishonoring her. It’s just her. And it’s just you.” He lifts his brows as he lifts my chin. Holding my eyes the whole time, he slowly lowers his mouth to mine. It’s slow and sexy, hot and sweet.
I break the kiss. “Stop stalling, Ranger. Get me to the hospital.”
He snaps his heels together and salutes but isn’t coordinated like that and it comes off like he’s breakdancing. I laugh out loud and grab my bag, the coffee, and a couple of bottles of water.
“Missed your laugh, baby. Glad to have it back.”
He threads his fingers through mine and tugs me to the door, swiping the baby bag and more shit than we could possibly need for a visit.
We make a stop at Pop’s, and Braxton is all business—in and out in a flash—before heading to the barn. He returns with a laptop, a tablet, and a yellow lab.
He opens the back door and Luna jumps in, making two circles before settling on the back seat and promptly falling asleep.
“Well, this is new.”
“Bright has someone coming to dog sit at her house. Luna needed a ride. Freeloader,” he tosses over his shoulder at the dog. She doesn’t lift an eye and continues her nap.
Austin traffic sucks. Epic levels of suck. And we didn’t do ourselves any favors by leaving when we did and making the three stops, even if two of them were right next door.
Braxton drives with our fingers laced together, resting on the center console, the way you see in old movies. He kisses my fingers once before letting go to park us in the hospital parking garage, his big truck not fitting easily anywhere.
“It’s freaking Texas. The hospital should’ve planned better,” he grumbles under his breath, but doesn’t say anything more as he takes two parking spots and jumps out of the truck. I do the same and meet him at the tailgate, both of us laden down with bags.
He links our fingers again, but says nothing as we walk through the breezeway, down to reception, around the maze of hallways and metal doors, past glass-walled rooms, and to a set of locked double doors.
He takes a deep breath before pushing the button. I squeeze his hand, and he tips his chin down to meet my eyes. “How did I get so lucky?”
“Weird question to ask seeing as where we’re standing.”
“You know what I mean.”
I smile. “I do, but you’re mistaken.” His face clouds, before I continue, “I’m the lucky one.”
A buzzer sounds, a click tells us the magnetic lock has been disabled, and two doors fold open silently on their hinges.
“Ranger?” Braxton asks at the nurses’ station. She points over her shoulder around the desk.
We’re almost there when the door opens and out walks a tall, thin brunette. She’s got turquoise eyes, and her face splits in two with a smile so beautiful, it’s breathtaking. She throws her arms around Braxton’s neck, and he returns the hug with the arm I haven’t released.
In fact, I might squeeze his hand a little tighter.
“Brax. So good to see you. This, though.” She gestures to the door behind her. “Let’s not do this again.”
“Couldn’t agree more,” Braxton replies and turns to me. “Emberleigh, this is Willa, Exton’s fiancée. Willa, this is Emberleigh.” Braxton never takes his eyes off me. He’s watching me.
I extend a hand to shake, but Willa wraps me in a hug, negotiating the hand Braxton still holds and the bags we’re carrying.
“It’s wonderful to meet you, Emberleigh. Looking forward to knowing you. Come on.” She turns around and pushes open the door. “You must be anxious to see Pop.”
We enter to a cacophony of sounds. Machines whirling, incessant beeping, chair scraping. There’s a low vibration of male voices. Colt is playing with a bedpan, slapping it on the floor and alternately gnawing on it. God, I hope that’s not used.
All eyes turn to ours, including a leaner, darker version of Braxton. He’s less bulky, shorter, a starched-shirt type. His smile, though… his smile is all Ranger. His face is shrewd, that much is obvious, but kind.
He stands and makes his way to Braxton, wrapping him in a man hug and pounding on his back. “My nephew is awesome. And it’s good to see you.” He turns and extends a hand to me, holding my gaze. “Exton Ranger. You must be Emberleigh.”
“I am. Nice to meet you, Exton.” I take his proffered hand, but look over his shoulder before returning to his gaze. “How’s Pop?”
“I’m fine,” the weak, gravelly voice grates through the air. “Tired of all the fussing and constant asking. Fine. I’m fine.”
“Gonna keep asking,” Brighton pipes in.
“Ornery old man,” Exton says.
I slide the bags down my arms and drop them to the floor, gliding around Exton, reaching for Pop. I grab his hand in both of mine.
“Don’t you ever do that again. Ever. Hear me?” I try to make my voice firm, but it breaks somewhere along the way. “You promised. Rangers don’t break promises.”
“I’ve never said that.” A smile tips at his lips. “But I like it. We can go with that.” He stretches his quiet voice, grimacing a bit at the same time. “Thank you for finding me and getting the ambulance.”
“I was so scared and so slow. I’m sorry for that.”
His hand comes up to thumb my cheek, but the weight of lifting it takes a toll. He pales and grunts a little. “You suck at saying you’re welcome.”
I lift my head to the titters of laughter and see Colt high on Braxton’s hip. He studies Exton with his eyes and with his fingers, before leaning down and placing a sloppy, wet, gummy kiss to his cheek.
“I think my ovaries just exploded,” Willa says.
“Give it ten minutes. They’ll knit back together. You haven’t seen the state of his diapers,” Brighton retorts.
“That’s the truth,” Elias deadpans.
“So, what’s the latest?” Braxton asks the room, but it’s Brighton who answers.
“Here for several days. Fever after surgery. They’re administering IV antibiotics and watching, but the real concern is the internal stitches.
” Brighton mentions the biological markers they want to monitor, and I can’t help but be impressed with her knowledge and how cool she is under pressure.
She’s methodical and doesn’t excite herself or anyone else in the room.
“Tired of being spoken for while I’m in the room,” Pop says, but there’s no malice in his voice.
“You can tell the next person who asks. Promise.” Her smile is genuine, while also pushing back. “Layton will want to hear it from you anyway.”
“He better not be skipping a game.”
“No, Pop,” Braxton chimes in. “He’ll be here Sunday night after the game. I forgot our jerseys, but we can have a watch party right here.”
“Hospital gonna bitch about the beer?”
Everyone turns in slow motion and stares as if he has two heads. “What? You think I’m having Jell-O and ice chips for football? Think again.”
“He’s going to be fine,” Willa says, the smile in her voice lighting up the room.
“He’s going to be fine,” I repeat, but to myself. We’re going to be fine.