“It hurts!”
He pauses, looking down at me with those blue eyes that seem less cold now, more frustrated than angry.We’re standing so close I can see the tension in his jaw, feel how carefully he’s controlling his movements.
“You’re impossible,” he says, but there’s no real heat in it.
“Says the man who’s hovering over me like a mother hen.”
“I’m not hovering.”But he doesn’t step back.If anything, he leans closer as he examines the cut near my temple.“This needs a butterfly bandage.”
“Since when do you know about butterfly bandages?”
His hands still for just a moment.“Since I have a sister who likes to get into physical altercations when she can.”
The admission surprises me, and something in his voice makes me look at him more carefully.There’s worry there, hidden beneath the impatience, in the way his fingers linger just a little too long as he tends to each cut.
“There,” he says finally, stepping back but not very far.“Try not to get mauled by any more unhinged ex-girlfriends today.”
“I’ll do my best.”I touch the bandages gingerly.
He gives me a long look.“I didn’t realize that you actually got involved in Joshua’s situation. You should have known better.These sorts of things get messy very fast.”
I would say something nasty, but he’s right.I don’t have to like it.
“I was trying to help a friend.”
“You mean extort him?”Caleb snorts.
I shrug, taking the bandages from his hands and putting them back in the first aid kit box.“Yes, well, I learned my lesson.”
He takes the box from me, putting it away.
“Thanks,” I mutter, the word scraping against my throat like sandpaper.Being grateful to Caleb Wilder feels like swallowing glass, but even I’m not rude enough to ignore what he just did.
“Don’t mention it.”His voice is dry as dust.“Seriously.Don’t.”
I’m already turning to leave when his next words stop me cold.
“So, are you pressing charges?”
I glance back at him, incredulous.“Of course I’m pressing charges.That lunatic just tried to claw my face off with a broken bottle.What kind of question is that?”
“Just checking.Wanted to make sure you weren’t going soft on me.”
“Trust me, Reynolds.Soft is the last thing I—” My words die as I notice his coat for the first time since coming inside.The expensive wool is completely ruined, splattered with what looks like red paint from the bottle Melissa threw.“Oh, shit.Your coat.”
He glances down at the damage with maddening nonchalance.“Yeah, it’s pretty fucked.”
“That looked expensive.”Guilt gnaws at my stomach, an unwelcome sensation that makes me fidget.“I’m sorry.If she was aiming for me, then?—”
“Don’t.”He cuts me off with a wave of his hand.“Don’t feel bad about it.”Relief floods through me for exactly two seconds before he continues.“Because you’re going to pay for the dry cleaning.”
My mouth falls open.“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”That insufferable smirk is back, the one that makes my fingers itch to slap it off his face.“Eight hundred dollars for specialty cleaning, assuming they can even save it.”
“Eight hundred—Are you insane?I didn’t throw that bottle!”
“No, but your little boyfriend drama brought this mess to my doorstep.”He steps closer, and I catch that hint of expensive cologne again.“Actions have consequences, Princess.”
