Page 72 of Boss and Brat

Carter covered his mouth lightly and said, “No more thinking out loud.”

They snuggled close together, the warmth of their bodies lulling them into a deep sleep.

***

Carter woke up slowly, warm, and comfortable in a way he hadn’t felt in years. It took him a second to realize why—Ethan was curled right into him, head tucked under Carter’s chin, one leg thrown over his like he owned the spot.

Carter didn’t even try to stop the smile that pulled at his mouth. He dipped his head and pressed a soft kiss to Ethan’s temple. Ethan stirred, eyelashes fluttering before he blinked awake. When he saw Carter, he smiled—small, sleepy, and so damn sweet it hit Carter straight in the chest.

“I can’t believe we’re together like this,” Ethan murmured, voice rough from sleep.

Carter leaned down and kissed him properly this time. “Morning, Ethan.”

“Morning.”

Carter brushed his thumb along Ethan’s jaw, liking the way Ethan leaned into it. “Let’s eat naked,” he said, grinning. “Then we’ll take a shower and get dressed.”

Ethan’s face went bright red, but he nodded fast, like the idea made him happy in a way he didn’t know how to hide. They got up, still laughing under their breath, and headed to the kitchen.

Carter started scrambling eggs for an omelet while Ethan made the coffee. Every few minutes, Ethan drifted close just to kiss him—on the shoulder, the cheek, the corner of his mouth—like he couldn’t help himself. Carter pretended to focus on the pan, but inside he felt stupidly full, like someone had packed his ribs with sunlight.

Then the pounding hit the front door—hard, sharp, shaking the whole damn cabin.

“Oh fuck,” Carter muttered.

Ethan froze mid-step. His face drained so fast it scared Carter. He looked like a kid caught doing something wrong, even though he hadn’t done a damn thing.

“Okay,” Carter said, keeping his voice steady. “Let’s get dressed and I’ll answer it. Hurry.”

Ethan bolted for the spare room. Carter threw on jeans and a shirt, heart thudding. The pounding only got louder, angrier.

Carter yanked the door open. Mrs. Evans stood there clutching a Bible like she planned to use it as a weapon. Her eyes were sharp enough to cut glass.

“Is my son here?”

“Yes. Come in, ma’am.”

She shoved past him so hard he had to catch himself on the doorframe. Carter clenched his jaw but let it go. No point starting a fight.

Ethan stood in the living room, hair sticking up in every direction, shirt half-tucked like he’d dressed in a panic. His eyes were wide, shoulders tight.

“What are you doing here?” Ethan asked, voice thin.

“Picking you up for church,” she snapped. “I brought your Bible. Change your clothes and brush your hair.”

“I told you I’m not going.” Ethan’s voice shook, but he didn’t back down. “You need to leave.”

Her anger swung straight to Carter like a spotlight. “What have you done to my son?”

Carter stepped forward, calm but firm. “He makes his own choices. He told you he wasn’t going. Respect his decision.”

“This living arrangement is totally inappropriate. He can’t stay here.”

“It’s not your decision,” Carter said. “Mr. Evans approved it.”

“He what? Has he lost his mind?” She stormed down the hall, throwing open doors, inspecting everything like she expected to find sin dripping off the walls.

“Why are the blinds down like this?”