From Bewildered Chapter 8…

Ashley knew Rory had earlier led the troop in PT, yelling at his recruits as they ran circles around the mansion. She could hear him, even now, shouting orders from the courts beyond the garden. He was dedicated to whipping those men into shape, into one unit or team, or whatever he called them.

          “Does he always yell like that?” Ashley asked, when all four of them blanched at an especially loud and colorful turn of words echoing across the grounds. 

          “No,” Kelli said. 

          “They respond well to that?” Ashley asked.

“He’s really pissed, if you ask me,” Calissa said.

“At his own men?” Grandmother asked. She turned her head far to the left to see Kelli with her unbandaged eye.

“No, he's not mad at his men,” Kelli raised an eyebrow at Ashley. “I’d bet he’s not mad at any men.”

“You can’t mean me,” Ashley said, setting down her teacup. 

Kelli and Calissa glanced at each other. 

“What?” Ashley asked. 

“Did you step on his neck last night?” Calissa asked finally. 

“Did I--what?” Ashley shook her head, trying to toss off the confusion.

Calissa gulped at her tea.

“Step on his neck, dear,” Grandmother repeated. She seemed to know the term.

 “What does that even mean?” Ashley looked from face to face for answers. 

“You might as well have depantsed him,” Kelli said, crossing her arms and sitting back. “I told you not to.”

“You mean when I yelled at him? He can’t take a little yelling?”

Then, loud curses were exchanged, so far away at the tennis courts, yet so loudly they seemed just on the other side of the hedge.

"He can take it, and he can dish it out," Kelli said, “just not from you, not in front of the men."

“Especially not the new men,” Calissa added. Everyone looked at her for more. “I dunno,” she said. “He went on about something at breakfast.”

“Really?” Ashley asked. “What else did he say?”

Calissa seemed a little edgy, almost frightened, then looked past Ashley and smiled up at someone approaching. “Why don’t you ask him?”

Ashley turned around and shaded her eyes. Sure enough, Rory Reed was coming up on them, all business. He was soaked with sweat. His hair was sopping. He had on dark sunglasses and a white shirt translucent with sweat, the Winston Waterworks logo stretched across his pecs. He was clenching and unclenching his fists. “Captain Chase,” he said in the harsh, curt tone of a drill sergeant, “they’re all yours.”

He did a kind of soldierly move Ashley did not recognize. It reminded her of a butler announcing a guest. Then Rory turned on his heels and stomped away. 

“Oh, that can’t be good,” Kelli said, rising from the table. She sped off toward the site of the drills.

He had not even looked in her direction, Ashley thought. What the hell?