Read Online Homecoming: The Billionaire Brothers by Lily Everett - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lily Everett
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I’m always supposed to be on call. I wonder what they need.”
* * *
The tensing of every muscle in Dylan’s body was all the more painful after being so recently melted into a puddle of happy goo.
Penny loved him. Or, more accurately, she loved Dylan Workman, the Sanctuary Island version of Dylan—who was nothing like the man he’d been back in New York.
He had to tell her. Now.
Tuning back in to the one side of Penny’s call that he could hear, Dylan drummed impatient fingers on his raised knee and waited for her to be done.
“Jessica, hi! No, it’s fine, I can talk.”
Penny’s gaze lifted to his for a moment, her brow furrowing as she listened to Jessica Bell, his brother Logan’s assistant. “You are? That’s—well, that’s great! I’ll look forward to finally meeting you in person.”
Horror crawled down Dylan’s spine. Crap. Jessica was coming here. He was about to be outed as part of the wealthy family who paid Penny’s salary.
“Alrighty then,” Penny said, determinedly cheerful even though Dylan could read the panic in her white-knuckled grip on the phone. “When should we expect you?”
The words were no sooner out of her mouth than the doorbell chimed its deep, mellow tones through the house.
Dylan’s lungs seized. No. This couldn’t be happening.
Beside him on the bed, Penny turned around, panicked eyes on Dylan. “Oh,” she said faintly. “I see.”
The phone fell away from her ear.
“The door,” Dylan said through numb lips.
It wasn’t a question, but Penny nodded, still shell-shocked. The doorbell chimed again, insistently, and Dylan experienced a moment of intense irrational rage at himself for fixing the damn thing five days ago.
The second bell catapulted Penny into action. She leapt off the bed and into her clothes, hair flying behind her like an unfurling flag. “Get dressed! Where are my socks? Who cares—I don’t need socks. I do need a bra, though, oh thank goodness…”
Any chance Dylan had to tell Penny the truth was draining away like sands through an hourglass. He stood up and tried to catch her shoulders and make her stand still for a second, but it was like trying to catch a sunbeam. She slipped through his fingers, a constant whirl of frantic motion as she rushed over to the mirror and moaned at the sex-tousled state of her curls.
“Penny, please,” he said, hating the desperation so naked in his voice, but unable to cover it up.
She glanced at his reflection in the mirror, jaw working. “Put some clothes on, I’m begging you. Unless you want to meet my boss in your birthday suit.”
“I will in a second, Penny, but first just let me—”
The doorbell echoed through the house once more, making Penny squeak and rush for the door. “No time! I promise, we’ll talk later! I have to answer the door.”
And with that, she was gone, taking with her most of Dylan’s hope for a way out of this mess he’d created.
Unless …
Jerking his pants up over his thighs and zipping them, Dylan dug through the pockets for his phone. Maybe, he thought crazily as searched, maybe he could text Jessica, explain the situation, get her to promise not to say anything …
Except his phone wasn’t there.
Dylan cursed fluently while tugging his shirt over his head. He snagged his boots and jammed his feet into them to pound down the stairs toward the last place he remembered having his cell phone, in the kitchen. If he could get to it in time, before Penny opened the door and welcomed Jessica Bell in—but he was too late.
He skidded to a stop at the bottom of the staircase just as the heavy front door swung open. Over Penny’s head, Dylan made eye contact with Jessica first—her perfectly manicured auburn brows arched into an infinitesimal lift as she took in his disheveled appearance.
But that wasn’t the worst of it.
Behind Jessica stood her boss, Logan Harrington, pale and swaying in a rumpled three-thousand-dollar suit. Before Dylan
* * *
The tensing of every muscle in Dylan’s body was all the more painful after being so recently melted into a puddle of happy goo.
Penny loved him. Or, more accurately, she loved Dylan Workman, the Sanctuary Island version of Dylan—who was nothing like the man he’d been back in New York.
He had to tell her. Now.
Tuning back in to the one side of Penny’s call that he could hear, Dylan drummed impatient fingers on his raised knee and waited for her to be done.
“Jessica, hi! No, it’s fine, I can talk.”
Penny’s gaze lifted to his for a moment, her brow furrowing as she listened to Jessica Bell, his brother Logan’s assistant. “You are? That’s—well, that’s great! I’ll look forward to finally meeting you in person.”
Horror crawled down Dylan’s spine. Crap. Jessica was coming here. He was about to be outed as part of the wealthy family who paid Penny’s salary.
“Alrighty then,” Penny said, determinedly cheerful even though Dylan could read the panic in her white-knuckled grip on the phone. “When should we expect you?”
The words were no sooner out of her mouth than the doorbell chimed its deep, mellow tones through the house.
Dylan’s lungs seized. No. This couldn’t be happening.
Beside him on the bed, Penny turned around, panicked eyes on Dylan. “Oh,” she said faintly. “I see.”
The phone fell away from her ear.
“The door,” Dylan said through numb lips.
It wasn’t a question, but Penny nodded, still shell-shocked. The doorbell chimed again, insistently, and Dylan experienced a moment of intense irrational rage at himself for fixing the damn thing five days ago.
The second bell catapulted Penny into action. She leapt off the bed and into her clothes, hair flying behind her like an unfurling flag. “Get dressed! Where are my socks? Who cares—I don’t need socks. I do need a bra, though, oh thank goodness…”
Any chance Dylan had to tell Penny the truth was draining away like sands through an hourglass. He stood up and tried to catch her shoulders and make her stand still for a second, but it was like trying to catch a sunbeam. She slipped through his fingers, a constant whirl of frantic motion as she rushed over to the mirror and moaned at the sex-tousled state of her curls.
“Penny, please,” he said, hating the desperation so naked in his voice, but unable to cover it up.
She glanced at his reflection in the mirror, jaw working. “Put some clothes on, I’m begging you. Unless you want to meet my boss in your birthday suit.”
“I will in a second, Penny, but first just let me—”
The doorbell echoed through the house once more, making Penny squeak and rush for the door. “No time! I promise, we’ll talk later! I have to answer the door.”
And with that, she was gone, taking with her most of Dylan’s hope for a way out of this mess he’d created.
Unless …
Jerking his pants up over his thighs and zipping them, Dylan dug through the pockets for his phone. Maybe, he thought crazily as searched, maybe he could text Jessica, explain the situation, get her to promise not to say anything …
Except his phone wasn’t there.
Dylan cursed fluently while tugging his shirt over his head. He snagged his boots and jammed his feet into them to pound down the stairs toward the last place he remembered having his cell phone, in the kitchen. If he could get to it in time, before Penny opened the door and welcomed Jessica Bell in—but he was too late.
He skidded to a stop at the bottom of the staircase just as the heavy front door swung open. Over Penny’s head, Dylan made eye contact with Jessica first—her perfectly manicured auburn brows arched into an infinitesimal lift as she took in his disheveled appearance.
But that wasn’t the worst of it.
Behind Jessica stood her boss, Logan Harrington, pale and swaying in a rumpled three-thousand-dollar suit. Before Dylan
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