The pink hue to her cheeks doesn’t go unnoticed, though, and new thoughts enter my mind that would better suit the ones Caiden was having during the house meeting I was kidnappedto. Such as, are we crushing on her? What are we going to do about it? Rock, paper, scissors? Or, what was it Caiden said? Group plans?
My black latex-glove-covered hands pause mid-cleaning, and I feel Maddie’s eyes on me more than I see them as I actually put some thought into that particular suggestion. I have no idea how serious Caiden was when he suggested it, but the idea sticks in my head. I start to wonder if I could actually make that happen. Whether or not I could share Maddie if I were to pursue anything with her.
That thought alone has me staring at the woman in shock, her own gaze growing concerned as she watches me closely. When the hell did I even decide I would pursue her to begin with?
Shaking my head free of thoughts I shouldn’t be having right now, I clear my throat and continue cleaning around the slice in Madison’s head until I can see exactly where the hockey stick split her skin. Oh, yeah, that’s definitely one that needs stitches.
“How high is your pain tolerance?” I ask Mads, hoping it’s high enough to let me get these stitches done without having to take her to the hospital. Speaking of which… “Why aren’t you heading to the hospital to get this fixed, anyway?”
After a very long-suffering sigh that almost has me smiling, she finally says, “My ex works at the hospital.”
That famous, fuzzy blue hedgehog couldn’t run faster than how quickly my nearly-there smile disappears, a sudden surge of anger swelling up in my chest that it takes everything within me to keep my hands steady, face neutral, and eyes clear enough to continue working on Maddie’s cut. The anger that flares up inside me is totally unnatural, especially since I’ve known the woman for all of one morning. I have absolutely no business getting angry. I can only blame it on the unusualbonding moment we had when I was forced to scoop her naked, lube-covered body out of her bathtub.
“I’d honestly prefer to suffer through the polar bear invasion again than see that small-dicked panty-sniffer,” Maddie grumbles, her free hand subconsciously reaching for the cut on her head again, sucker clutched in her hand as she talks.
Without putting much thought into it and ignoring the sudden burst of possessiveness I feel toward the manic little pixie, I reach for her hand and tuck it under my arm. It doesn’t go unnoticed how her hand immediately clenches into my shirt, her small fist pressing into my back as she continues talking.
“That guy is a stage-five clinger. I’m talking slime-in-your-hair kind of clinger, not the good kind. The kind of slime you have to cut out, or quite possibly shave your entire head, to remove. I like my hair. I don’t want to be bald,” she whines, and I accidentally snort, drawing out a pitiful glare that is perfectly aimed at my chin.
Thankfully, Caiden distracts her enough to lure her attention away. “I think you’d still look hella pretty with a bald head, Blue. No worries there.”
She would, too. I don’t think there’s much that would make her look horrible, not even a small scar through her eyebrow.
“That doesn’t make me feel better, if you can believe it,” she counters, popping the sucker back in her mouth and sighing like she’s suffered some serious trials and tribulations today. To be fair to her, she’s truly gone through a war of her own this morning, so I can’t fault her dramatics. “Anyway, I’m steering clear of the hospital until he either spontaneously combusts, is fired for mysterious reasons, or gets hit by a pretty matte-black Jeep with blue dice that hang on the rearview mirror.”
“Why do I have a feeling you’ll be the cause of all of those scenarios?” Baxter snickers, a knowing lilt to his voice that forces me to look at Maddie’s expression.
I catch the moment a diabolical smile pulls at Maddie’s lips, an almost scary little gleam in her eye that promises retribution, vengeance, and justice, right before she spookily wonders, “Whatever do you mean?”
“Oh my God,” Caiden breathes, right before he walks away laughing, and Bax has to smother his laugh with a swipe of his hand over his face.
Me? I’m forced to close my eyes for a long moment, trying to compose myself so I don’t enable the psycho in front of me, sure that if too many of us laugh at the possibility of her committing murder, she’ll actually go through with it.
After finding some sense of control, I calmly ask, “What’s the reason you’re plotting the guy’s downfall? Or is it just because his pecker was small?”
“Oh, there’s no plotting to be had. We’re already in the stages of destruction. After I caught him cheating on me with some woman he worked with in my house, because Toby would never dare use a cent of his money to buy or pay for anything, I sold my house without giving him any warning. I also had a bonfire made of all his clothes, made a meme of his little peen, and had a very lengthy conversation with his mother about what a scumbag she raised. She wasn’t too pleased to hear that her golden child had used me for my money and connections, but I think what pissed her off most was hearing how her son could only last in the bedroom for four minutes, if we’re being generous, and decided to stick that unimpressive appendage into anything that breathes. Revenge is something I am well-versed in,” Maddie both explains and divulges, and I can only sit there, stunned for a long moment as I absorb every word.
I’m torn between being scared and impressed, leaning toward the latter since I’m not on the receiving end of such a diabolical revenge plan.
Clearing my throat, I sit back on the heels of my feet and ask, “Are you the devil?”
At that, the blue-haired menace laughs loudly, and I’ll be damned if that isn’t the best sound I’ve heard in a very long time. It somehow warms my insides and makes my heart stutter, the sound like music to my ears.
“I’ve been called worse,” Maddie snickers, crunching into the sucker loud enough that it sounds like her teeth crack. Evidently not, when she continues, “That dickhole deserves every series of unfortunate events that happens to him. If they just so happen to be orchestrated by me or three other women who think much like myself, then those are simply the cards his life has dealt. You reap what you sow and all that, right?”
I’m nodding as I lean closer, wincing when I realize how long the cut on her forehead actually is, and mutter, “I mean, if he cheated, more fool him. If you need someone to tattoo a dick on his forehead, then I’m happy to help.”
“Don’t give her ideas,” Bax chimes, sounding way too amused.
I shrug. “Fine. How about you get Lady Satan here another sucker? This is going to blow.”
“Trust me, I’ve had stitches more times than I’ve had mac and cheese. This is nothing new to me,” she tries to assure, but it does the opposite, my frown forming as I peer down at her.
“Hurt yourself a lot?” I wonder, a weird collage of emotions running through me with all the speed of a freight train, mainly a flush of anger that she’s been hurt enough to be used to getting stitched up.
With a careless shrug, she admits, “I was a reckless kid growing up, and that followed me into adulthood. I’m justcareless with my safety sometimes, and other times I’m just a plain old klutz. My parents always tell me I wasn’t born with a rational fear of anything, and that causes accidents. They’re not wrong, but I’ll never tell them that. After all, they’re the ones who raised me the way I am. If anyone is to blame, it’s them.”
All of the anger inside me flees just as fast as it came, and I almost slouch with relief that Mads hasn’t suffered in any way similar to me.
