Comfort and Joy by Knox Abby

Author:Knox, Abby
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Author Abby Knox, LLC
Published: 2018-12-12T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

Joy

Brady is not in the bed when I wake up the next morning.

But there is a text.

It reads, Sweet Joy. Be back later today. Cooked you breakfast; in oven for you. Do not go anywhere. I have some business to take care of but be back soon.

I throw on my fluffy robe and slippers and pad downstairs to the kitchen. The oven has been left on the lowest setting and I open the door, letting the hot air wash over my face. The smell of bacon has my stomach waking up.

I use a hot pad to pull the skillet out and I lift the glass lid. There’s bacon, a huge biscuit and gravy, and scrambled eggs.

My stomach is roaring so badly, I don’t even need a plate. I set the skillet on the table on a trivet and grab a fork. I’m eating like a starved woman as I text him back. Thank you. Delicious. How did you have time to do this?

He texts back: You were pretty dead asleep after what I did to you.

I grin. Cocky much, Brady? But I have to acquiesce: After years of a dating drought, two orgasms did knock me out pretty well.

That’s not even close to what I’m going to do to you later, he replies.

I blush, from my cheeks all the way down to everything below the waist that is still tingling at the memory of his touch.

What am I going to do next week when you go back to work?

He texts back in the next second. I’ve asked for a leave of absence until Christmas. In ten years, I’ve never taken a vacation. They owe me. I’m all yours.

I text back a series of kiss emojis.

He texts back a series of flowers followed by a tongue and a yum-yum face. Oh my god. So inappropriate. I giggle as I finish my breakfast. Another stupid tear ekes out at the corner of my eye. What is wrong with me? I wonder as I shake my head and dab it away.

After I wash up the skillet I look around, trying to decide what to do next. I can’t go to work, since Brady shut me down. And yes, I see the weird irony in the fact that I’m currently fucking—or pretty damn close to fucking—the guy who closed down my business. But are we fucking? We didn’t actually do “the deed.”

I shiver. Maybe that’s what he meant by what he was going to do to me tonight. My body lights up with anticipation that I haven’t felt since Christmas Eve as a child.

I get dressed and decide my agenda for the day. I might not be legally allowed to go back in the Cookie Cottage, but there’s no reason I can’t knock out some cookies here in my own kitchen. Who’s to say it’s for work? It could be for my own pleasure.

I smile wickedly as I put in my earbuds to listen to my favorite podcasts to fill the silence while I work.

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