Page 49 of Brought By the Storm

“You and the boys did a good job cleaning up this place,” Carrington commented once I closed the gate behind us.

“It’s so nice out. Shall we lie on the chaise longue chairs?” I didn’t wait for his response. I pulled the chair cushions from the storage box and laid them on the furniture. I looked over to Carrington, and he was removing his shirt. “What are you doing?”

He cocked his head, indicating I was the strange one for asking. “Getting ready to sunbathe, of course.”

“Oh.” I gulped. “Um, I guess we could do that. I’ll get some sunscreen from the garage.”

He chuckled and called out, “If you have the kind that you rub on, I would prefer that.” He was going to be the death of me, for sure.

Once I returned from the garage, Carrington was lying on a chaise in his boxer briefs. I put up the sun umbrella to block us from direct rays, then handed him the tube of sunscreen. He looked at me with confusion. “Um, you said you wanted the kind you could rub on.”

“No. I said I wanted the kind you rub on. Please proceed,” he said with a straight face.

I gulped and, under my breath, cursed myself for gulping. “Sure.” Even though I now should have been used to touching Carrington, my hand was still quivering when I started rubbing it on his hard shoulders and chest.

“Mm, that feels nice,” he whispered. “If the photography thing doesn’t work out, you can be my pool boy.”

I smirked as I applied more lotion to his arms, then his legs. “Tempting as that sounds, I’ve started appreciating the finer things in life.”

He grinned. “Oh, sweet Eric. I would reward you very well. And I’d pay you well, too.” I blushed. “Take your shirt and trousers off,” he ordered.

I knew there was no point battling him, as he would win the debate anyway. I removed the garments and placed them at the end of the chaise, then took my seat. “Happy now?” I prodded. “Anything else I can do for your highness?”

He chuckled. “I think you’re supposed to address me as ‘Mr. President,’ though you treating me as a king will suffice.” I shot him a pretend look of annoyance, but he kept laughing. He took the tube and started rubbing the lotion into my skin, paying special attention to my chest and belly.

“Um, I think you’ve got me protected now.” I smiled.

“I’ll always protect you, Eric.” He said it with earnestness, making one of my eyes start to tear. I blinked so he wouldn’t notice.

Once he was lying back again, he asked me to tell him more about myself.

“Not much to know,” I responded. “No siblings. Grew up in New Jersey. My father was a plant manager at an energy company. My mother was a clerk at a financial firm. Went to college, moved to the city and you kind of know the rest.”

“And your parents fought,” he reminded me.

I nodded. “Yeah. He drank a lot. Made him mean. She was strict about everything and his alcoholism didn’t conform to what she viewed as proper. I guess it wasn’t, in retrospect.”

“And he was violent toward you,” Carrington continued.

I looked over to him. “Why are we going there?”

He glanced back, but there was compassion in his eyes. “I wish to better understand you.”

I wanted to push back and tell him that my childhood had nothing to do with the person I had become, but of course, I knew that wasn’t true. I had already admitted as much. “Yeah, he was abusive. Lots of parents are. Christ, even my mother got her share in. It’s not a big deal. You survive.”

“Eric, it is a big deal,” he replied. “And I’m sorry they hurt you. From the sound of it, they hurt you for a very long time. They didn’t deserve you. You’re the kindest, gentlest soul I’ve met, and they didn’t appreciate what a gift they had.”

I closed my eyes again, trying not to tear up. “I disappointed them a lot. I wished I could have been…more of what they wanted.”

Carrington reached for my hand, and I let him hold it. “I’m going to keep showing you how wonderful you are, and one day, I’m going to rejoice when you realize it’s true.”

I laughed, then got serious. “What about you? What kind of parents did you have? Your mother seems nice.”

He smiled at that observation. “Yes. She’s tough, like how she battled her recent illness. She’s always had to be strong though, being married to my father and holding the position of First Lady. But she cares about people, and she loves me without conditions. My father put more expectations on me. It’s not surprising, I guess. I couldn’t embarrass him, considering his career. He wanted me to follow in his footsteps. I’ve been doing government jobs since graduating from Oxford University. Each one had increasing responsibilities. I knew my fate was to one day be president. It’s what he wanted.”

“But not what you wanted,” I affirmed, recalling our earlier conversation.

He nodded. “Duty calls, and all that. One day, though, I shall be done with it and be able to pursue my own passion.”