Read Online Playing a Little by Breanna Hayse - Free Book Online Page A

“Unbelievable,” she said aloud. “This looks absolutely ridiculous.”
    “I completely disagree,” Erik’s voice said from the doorway, startling her. “You are adorable in pink, especially when you blush like that. Bring me the hairbrush and those ribbons and I will fix your hair.”
    “Erik…”
    “Who?”
    “Uncle Erik, I can brush my own hair. I’m a big girl, you know.” Camille insisted, forcing herself into her character. The smile on Erik’s face showed his pleasure at her attempt and she felt a gush of delight at his approval.
    “Yes, darling, I know you are a big girl, but I like to brush hair. Make old Uncle Erik happy and mind him, okay?”
    “You are old. Did they have cars when you were a kid?”
    “Yes, and telephones and electricity. Get over here, brat.” His voice softened playfully. Camille suppressed a giggle and handed him the brush, plopping on the floor and crossing her legs in a most unladylike manner. She closed her eyes as she felt him gently run the brush through her tangles, easing the knots out with his fingers. Even she was not as patient with her own locks as he was! Once the bristles were free to travel down the length of her hair, Erik began to brush firmly, lifting the heavy mane from her shoulders as he hummed an unrecognizable tune. Camille felt herself relaxing under his care and leaned against his leg as she wrapped her arm around it. Strange as it sounded, she felt completely safe and secure anchored between his strong legs.
    “How pretty is that?” Erik asked after tying her hair into two high, loose ponytails. “So shiny and soft. Did you like having your hair brushed?”
    “I did. A lot,” Camille admitted.
    “Then that will be a reward for good behavior for you. Now pick up all the clothes you left on the floor and put them in that hamper. We keep things tidy around here.”
    “I don’t like to clean,” Camille said, pouting as she tossed her jeans and shirt into the wicker basket, and then tucked her boots in the closet.
    “You don’t have to like it; you just have to do it. Do you want to stay in your room and play for a while, or explore?”
    “Explore!” Camille said excitedly. “Are you going to come with me?”
    “Of course. I don’t want you getting lost. Hold my hand.”
    Camille was, once again, overwhelmed with the size and directions of the compound. Erik told her there were sixteen bedrooms on the north side, and that the only room she was not allowed to enter was Arthur’s. He informed her that the reason being was that she would be lost in Arthur’s mess and she would never be found again. He then showed her his room, which was the largest and with custom furnishings, including a huge, circular bed built onto a high platform. Surprising even herself, she ran to the platform, climbed onto the bed, and spontaneously started to jump on it.
    “What do you think you are doing, little one? That is a bed, not a trampoline,” Erik asked, catching her before she fell.
    Camille snickered. “I am getting into character. Isn’t that was little girls do? Jump on beds?”
    “Some do, yes. Have you ever bounced on a mattress before?”
    “Nope. I always wanted to, though. Mother said it was undignified.”
    “Well, Mother is not here. Go on. Jump to your heart’s content. Just be careful.”
    Camille squealed, launching herself back on the high mattress and jumping as hard as she could. Erik, arms crossed and eyes peeled, simply smiled as she allowed her adult self to disappear. When she started panting, he ordered her to stop.
    “But I don’t want to!” Camille argued, jumping higher.
    “You have had enough, baby. Come down now.”
    “Noooo… ow!” she yelped as her ankle twisted under her and she fell.
    “This is why I told you to stop. Does it hurt?” Erik asked, sitting next to her.
    Tearfully, Camille nodded. “Yeah. Real bad.”
    “Next time, you will listen, won’t you?”
    “Yes, sir, Uncle Erik. I’m sorry.