Finally Finn (Los Rancheros #4) (16 page)

I press my lips together to keep the smile
from forming. “Well, that’s not nice at all.”

He shakes his head. “I’m not a nice guy,
sweet girl.”

I push his shoulder. “You kind of are.” Then
I shrug and add, “Just not all the time.”

“That’s okay, because you’re not nice all the
time, either.”

“Fuck you.”

“I rest my case. So put on the shirt I got
you and let’s go out there and give them something to write
about.”

“You’re bossy.”

“Shut up, you love it.” Batty shoves his
hands through the shirt and pulls it down his chest. It’s
deliciously tight. I look both ways in the hall and see that it’s
empty except for Alyse at the end of the hall. I cross my arms and
pull my red shirt over my head, going for wow and sexy. Of course
that doesn’t happen because my cape gets caught on my hair and I’m
stuck with my arms in the air holding an upside down shirt above my
head. Thank Jesus I wore a bra.

“Ack. Help me, asshole. Don’t just laugh,” I
say through the material, hearing him laughing his hot ass off.

“Turn around, you exhibitionist.” I spin and
feel hands in my hair, pushing, pulling, then freezing.

I move my arms from side to side slightly.
“Batty? Where’d you go?”

“Is this real?” he asks in shock.

“What?” I try to spin to him, like I can
actually see through the shirt around my head. He holds me still
around my waist and lightly touches the stickiness on the back of
my hip.

“There’s a bat right next to your ass,
Sadie.”

I explode. “No shit? I wish I could see it,
but I can’t because I’m standing here like a fucking idiot!”

Batty laughs and tosses my shirt off with one
pull and I twist to glare.

“You’re cute,” he says, bringing his hand to
my face. I slap it away.

“Shut up, I hate you.”

Batty gives me his dimples as his grin widens
and his eyes shine like gunmetal. “No you don’t. You got a tattoo
because of me and I know for a fact you’re deathly afraid of
needles. That means you love me.”

I sniff indignantly and pull the white shirt
over my head. “Well, I thought you were forever lost to me. Now
that I’m stuck with you, I might have it removed.”

Batty throws his head back and laughs before
hooking me around the neck with his arm and pulling me into the
opening elevator behind exiting hospital staff. “You’re so full of
shit.”

“Who the fuck is this?” I walk over to the CD
player and eject the disk. “Moore Dove?”

“Mordovey?”

“Horse shit,” I say, tossing it into his
trashcan.

He looks from me to the trash. “I was
considering signing them.”

I sit on his desk. “Then you’re a shoddy
CEO.”

His eyes narrow. “You’re just trying to get
me riled up. They’re good, right?”

“Do you want to know a secret, Batty?”

He nods. I lean in to whisper, “I hate grunge
rock.”

His eyes widen. “Me too,” he admits slowly,
as if sensing a trap.

“You can’t understand the words, and the
audience in live shows are too busy elbowing each other in the face
to pay attention anyway. So we’re out there ruining our voices for
some punk kids that just need a place to get their rage out.” I
look down at my hands flying around wildly and realize I am
venting. “Sorry.”

He pulls me into his lap and kisses my
temple. “No, baby. You’re completely right. But there is a niche
for those things.”

“Not those guys. If you want to find talent
you go to the Czech Republic or Germany. For the soulful
alternative singers, hit up Ireland pubs and Seattle poetry
houses.” I snap my fingers in front of his face and get that dimple
I want to eat off of his face.

“Or YouTube,” he supplies smugly.

I shrug and try to stand up, but his arms
tighten around my waist. “Okay, fine. You might be able to find
some talent there, I guess.”

It’s the understatement of the century.
Triple Threat
is on its third season, still with the
original judges, and is wildly popular. The two winners so far have
gone on to win Grammy’s, so we’re doing something right.

To our surprise, as soon as we walked out of
that hospital and the paps got a view of our united front, fans of
the show went almost cult following crazy supporting us. The media
was forced to change their tune, except for some hard right wing
zealots that always hated me anyway.

We became victims overnight, and even though
the kids were known entities to the public, Finnigan Brennick can
afford some bodyguards. No one ever bothered them at the school
again after he got done putting up fences and guards. The man likes
gates, but no one would oppose his generous donation because it
keeps their kids safe, too.

As for Jacque, well. My mom became my dad’s
power of attorney and fixed the visitation so that even if the
asshole did show up, he wouldn’t get past the front desk and they
would never know of it.

I kind of felt sorry for the kid, even if all
of my siblings are off their fucking rocker crazy. He found out
that Brian and Patricia siphoned all of my money and thought he
would do the same thing. I played right into his hands.

I gave him some cash to go away, along with a
nice little contract saying he would stay lost to me. Brian and
Patricia were another matter altogether. They ran out of money for
their lawyers and went to jail for a bit.

I never saw a dime, but I did get some
justice. Batty tells me that since I’m a grown up that’s what
should matter. I humor him.

Is he Batty or is he Finn? Well. He’s Finn
when we’re with the kids, his family, in public, and most of the
time in his office. Except for right now, because his door is
locked and I’m wearing a skirt. Right now, he’s my Batty.

I slide my knees on either side of him and he
frames my hips. “What are you doing, sweet girl?”

I move my hands to mess up his hair and rub
my nose softly against his as he smiles. “Batty,” I whisper against
his lips.

“Ah,” he sighs in revelation and moves his
hands to my ass. “You want something from me, Sadie?”

I rock against him and bite his lip. “Need. I
need something from you.”

“Mmm. I like the sound of that.” Batty pushes
up against me and I gasp as he hits the perfect spot through my
thin panties. I gather my skirt and move the lace to the side as he
undoes his belt and in seconds his cock is springing free.

I slide slowly down his length, feeling
myself stretch to accept him. When my knees are off of the chair
and I can go no further, I tangle my tongue with his, then lean
back to bring my hands behind me to his knees.

I rock forward, then back and shudder when he
thumbs my clit so perfectly. “I fucking love you, Batty.”

He smiles, the ocean behind him in his
high-rise office, in his expensive leather chair that creaks as we
move and he digs his hands into my waist to bring me back to him.
Always back to him.

“I fucking love you too, Sadie.”

I need to give a huge thank you to my
husband. He has given up his days to sleep in, so that I could stay
up all night writing this serial. He’s brainstormed with me,
cleaned the house, and taken care of our kids when I had to shut
myself away to hear Sadie’s voice. She’s a lot like Lu, but it
required a lot of rum to get it right. So thanks babe, I love you
soooo much. ;)

I huge thank you to my editor, Edee Marie
Fallon at Mad Sparks Editing. You’ve talked me down from the ledge
a million times with these charecters. You’ve been patient,
adapting to my time change and crazy work schedule. You’re funny
and unlike a lot of edtiors, tell me what you love, not just what I
did wrong. I value our relationship and can’t wait to work with you
again. Thank you Edee, for getting Sadie, rooting for Batty and
beliving in me!

To my beta team: Faith, Chundra, Anne, Mary,
Rachel, Tara, Amanda W., Amanda D., Mariah, Corinne, and Sarah,
y’all were all over the place on this one. Some liked Batty, some
hated him and the same for Sadie. I heard everything you had to
say, and I hope that I assuaged your fears. Thank you for not
giving up on these charecters and what they needed to do. A special
thank you to Mary for hating Batty, and then allowing him to win
you over slowly. Thank you Anne, for hating trashy Sadie, and not
give up when I said she would be maturing. Tara, your notes are
always a pleasure, always, always. You were the first blogger to
read any of my books and have the best things to say. Mari, so glad
we met at the pool this summer. Thank you SO much for telling me to
just write my vision and figure out the rest later. I needed to
hear that, probably more than once and you were always there.
Sarah, your need for my words always makes me laugh, and your
reviews are thoughtful and insightful. Thank you!

Thank you Colleen for being my set of eagle
eyes needed to proofread . . . and for the hysterical discussions
about anatomy and if those positions were actually possible. ;)

Thank you to the bloggers that have shared my
covers and releases! I’m small potatoes and for you to show support
for little ole me means the world.

Thank you to Debra at Book Enthusiast
Promotions for not trying to kill me every time I changed a release
date, made a full-length novel into a serial, and just generally
made myself a pain in the ass. You go amazing work, and I’m glad we
see eye to eye.

Thank you to Dad, Jen, Becky, Mom, Katie and
Gammie for always supporting me. Your words of encouragement make
me breathe a little easier when the dishes aren’t done, the kids
are screaming and you have no idea how I get things done.

Thank you Mimi for watching over me,
always.

Thank you Najla Qamber for an amazing cover.
I’m sorry I had to change everything and add more covers when we
thought we were done. You did a great job, as always!

Thank you Nadege at Inkstained Interior Book
Design, you are amazing at what you do and make flipping a page a
joy for more than once reason.

Lastly, thank you readers for taking a
chance, and following me on this journey. We authors hear some
crazy shit in our heads sometimes, and that someone would read it,
then recommend someone else do the same is flooring when it comes
to my work. I’m honored for the emails, reviews and messages of
encouragement. It’s the push that I sometimes need to organize the
crazy and let the words flow.

Brandace Morrow is an Army wife currently
overseas with her four small children, two dogs and badass soldier.
Her addictions are Maroon 5, Rum and Coke, and books, in no
particular order.

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