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FOURSaveaI woke up snuggling warmth, my head buried in it, my arms wrapped around it. For one long, glorious, mostly-unconscious moment, I thought it was King.
Until my mouth opened on a yawn and dog hair tickled my lips.
I woke up spooning a dog.
"God, I'm single," I grumbled as Padfoot stretched, kicking me in the knees as he did so, his doggy breath making me turn away, staring up at the ceiling.
The apartment sounded quiet. Kingston likely had to get up, get to work. And I had, I guessed, somehow managed to sleep in. Even after going to bed early.
It took a full five minutes before my body forked up in bed, my heart thudding hard against my ribcage.
The animals.
I had texted the part-time guy the morning before, telling him the store was closed temporarily, apologizing for the inconvenience. No one had been there to make sure water bottles and food dishes were full.
And I had slept in until...
"Crap," I hissed, seeing the unbelievable - yet undeniable - solid neon red eight on the alarm clock on King's dresser.
"Well, good morning, Your Majesty. Your chariot has been awaiting you for almost two hours."
The unexpected voice - not King's or Nixon's - had me skidding to a stop in the hallway, nearly sliding into the wall in my sock-clad feet.
"Rush," my voice hissed out, my hand raising automatically to attempt to get the nest and the birds out of my hair.
"Don't bother. It's cute bed-messy," he offered, looking up from the book he was reading. A small book made smaller still by his big hands. A book with fancy, swirly font. A book with a suspicious cover where a man's shirt was ripped open and a woman's bosom was, well, heaving.
"Are you reading a romance novel?" My voice was a laugh and a gasp at the same time as he slipped a napkin between the pages, flashing the cover at me.
Raven and the Rake.
"I, ah, um... I didn't peg you for the bookworm sort," I said carefully, not wanting him to think I was shaming him for his choice in books. I knew how sensitive Peyton could be if you - rightly - accused her of enjoying horror porn like there was something unusual about that.
"It's research. For work," he clarified, waving it once again before setting it down. "The dirty talk in these fucking things puts porn to shame."
"Running out of material already?" I asked, not even trying to hold back a smile.
After retiring from the criminal world, the Rivers brothers all found their own niches in life. Kingston had his private security. The others all helped out here and there among their other odd jobs. But Rush, Rush found his calling in a very unexpected sector of the workforce.
Rush was a phone sex operator.
It had almost been a joke at first. One of the Mallick women owned a phone sex operating company, had built it from a one-woman-operation to one that employed a dozen or so people.
All women.
Until Rush.
She'd mentioned a growing need for male phone sex operators. And he, in all of his boyish cockiness, had decided he was just the man for the job.
And, well, it turned out that he maybe was.
"If you want to know what women want to hear, picking up a book by women, for women can't be a bad move."
"Very smart business move. Do you have your CPA write off the book purchases?" I asked, watching his easy smile pull at his lips.
Of the Rivers brothers, Rush was the lightest, most easy going. Everything rolled off his back. Everything made him smile. He wasn't prone to seriousness and preparedness like Kingston, to sarcasm and the occasional biting bad mood like Nixon, to wanderlust and an antsy nature like Atlas.
They all looked a lot alike - tall, dark, handsome, well-built. But Rush's dark eyes had a little more gold in them. His hair was a little longer, but still neat. And his voice, deep like all his brothers, also had a bit of a rasp. Which, I imagined, was part of what made him such a hit in the phone sex business.
"Is, ah, Kingston at work already?"
"Yeah, he had to hit the road for a bit today. He'll be back in the office by noon. I am supposed to make sure you stay alive. And take you to handle the animals. Oh, and something about feeding a spider?" he said, brows knitting.
"Oh, that's really nice. I feel so bad putting all of you guys out like this..."
"I don't work until nighttime, Savvs. Besides, you're family. Now, go get yourself dressed; I will get you coffee in a travel cup. How do you take it?"
"Huh."
"What?"
"Oh, nothing. Cream and sugar, please," I told him before disappearing into the bathroom, wondering if it maybe, possibly meant anything that while Rush clearly didn't know how I took my coffee, that Kingston did. Or if maybe King was just the type of person who was more likely to remember little details where Rush wasn't.
