male politely greets, “Master Tucker, it's a pleasure to see you. It's been a very long time.”
I try to politely smile.
He's not exaggerating.
“June Bailey meet Byron. He's head of the loyal servants who maintain this home.”
The older white haired gentleman gives me a stern expression. “You may say butler, master Tucker. It is an honor not an insult to wait on this family.”
“You are family,” I correct. “So stop with the master stuff.”
“May I take your jacket?” June drops her arm and allows me to remove it. Once it's draped over his arm he asks, “May I take your purse as well, Miss Bailey?”
She hands him the object, wraps her arm back around mine, and politely nods. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” he gives her a polite nod himself. With a wave of his hand he says, “Everyone has already settled in the dining room.”
The two of us give him one final smile before he takes a left as we take a right.
Gawk all you want. You don't have to tell me how much you feel lost in a Disney princess' castle. I grew up in this monstrosity. Keep in mind when my father was alive there was a lot less crystal and glass. His tastes were less extravagant. Just add that to the list of ways my mother changed after he died. Should we have June start us one?
In a low voice, she asks, “Exactly how long has it been since you were last here?”
Her question causes me to tense. “About five years.”
“Five years?!” She shrieks only a tad bit louder. “You haven't been home in five years!”
“I haven't been to this house in five years. Home is where the art is, so I'm always home.”
“You mean heart.”
“Can't spell heart without art.”
She stifles the obvious urge to snap. “Why haven't you been back?”
“Does it matter?”
She rushes to stand in front of me. “Of course it matters! You haven't been here in five years yet tonight, all of a sudden, you're willing to come back?”
I correct her with a pointed finger. “No. No. Not willing at all. You're the one who came to collect me. If you recall I tried to persuade you to do a number of other things.”
Like allow me to have another round of making her come from my fingers or tongue. Would've been receiver’s choice.
“Tucker.”
A heavy sigh escapes and I shove my hands into my dress pants pockets. “Fine. You're right. I more or less willingly came as a favor to my aunt . She doesn't usually ask for much, so when she does, I try to do my best to fulfill the request.”
It's the least I can do for the woman who lets me secretly crash in her guest house when I come to town. Though the requests for me to attend the wedding reception isn't one I'm sure I can stomach, no matter how many times she's let me sneak in and out of town without alerting any one.
June lifts her eyebrows in suspicion. “When's the last time you actually talked to your mother ?”
“We talk every year on her birthday, my birthday, Thanksgiving and Christmas.”
She calls on the anniversary of my dad's death, but I never answer.
“This is going to be awkward.”
“Most likely.”
Her head falls backwards on a defeated whine. “Why me?”
I whisper and give her ass a small squeeze as I pass her. “Bet you wish you would've taken me up on my offer to let me make you come instead.”
Most women would've jumped at the chance, especially if they had already received a sample. June only looked slightly excited. Her lack of instant submission to a naughty look and dirty wink is refreshing. And challenging. Almost like marble that refuses to conform to the carving. How is it one woman continues to grow more attractive?
As I enter the formal dining room used for smaller dinners, I force a smile onto my face.
To no surprise my mother is complaining, “Of course he's not going to bother showing up, Brandi. He hates
I try to politely smile.
He's not exaggerating.
“June Bailey meet Byron. He's head of the loyal servants who maintain this home.”
The older white haired gentleman gives me a stern expression. “You may say butler, master Tucker. It is an honor not an insult to wait on this family.”
“You are family,” I correct. “So stop with the master stuff.”
“May I take your jacket?” June drops her arm and allows me to remove it. Once it's draped over his arm he asks, “May I take your purse as well, Miss Bailey?”
She hands him the object, wraps her arm back around mine, and politely nods. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” he gives her a polite nod himself. With a wave of his hand he says, “Everyone has already settled in the dining room.”
The two of us give him one final smile before he takes a left as we take a right.
Gawk all you want. You don't have to tell me how much you feel lost in a Disney princess' castle. I grew up in this monstrosity. Keep in mind when my father was alive there was a lot less crystal and glass. His tastes were less extravagant. Just add that to the list of ways my mother changed after he died. Should we have June start us one?
In a low voice, she asks, “Exactly how long has it been since you were last here?”
Her question causes me to tense. “About five years.”
“Five years?!” She shrieks only a tad bit louder. “You haven't been home in five years!”
“I haven't been to this house in five years. Home is where the art is, so I'm always home.”
“You mean heart.”
“Can't spell heart without art.”
She stifles the obvious urge to snap. “Why haven't you been back?”
“Does it matter?”
She rushes to stand in front of me. “Of course it matters! You haven't been here in five years yet tonight, all of a sudden, you're willing to come back?”
I correct her with a pointed finger. “No. No. Not willing at all. You're the one who came to collect me. If you recall I tried to persuade you to do a number of other things.”
Like allow me to have another round of making her come from my fingers or tongue. Would've been receiver’s choice.
“Tucker.”
A heavy sigh escapes and I shove my hands into my dress pants pockets. “Fine. You're right. I more or less willingly came as a favor to my aunt . She doesn't usually ask for much, so when she does, I try to do my best to fulfill the request.”
It's the least I can do for the woman who lets me secretly crash in her guest house when I come to town. Though the requests for me to attend the wedding reception isn't one I'm sure I can stomach, no matter how many times she's let me sneak in and out of town without alerting any one.
June lifts her eyebrows in suspicion. “When's the last time you actually talked to your mother ?”
“We talk every year on her birthday, my birthday, Thanksgiving and Christmas.”
She calls on the anniversary of my dad's death, but I never answer.
“This is going to be awkward.”
“Most likely.”
Her head falls backwards on a defeated whine. “Why me?”
I whisper and give her ass a small squeeze as I pass her. “Bet you wish you would've taken me up on my offer to let me make you come instead.”
Most women would've jumped at the chance, especially if they had already received a sample. June only looked slightly excited. Her lack of instant submission to a naughty look and dirty wink is refreshing. And challenging. Almost like marble that refuses to conform to the carving. How is it one woman continues to grow more attractive?
As I enter the formal dining room used for smaller dinners, I force a smile onto my face.
To no surprise my mother is complaining, “Of course he's not going to bother showing up, Brandi. He hates
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