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She looks disorientated and winces with the pain. “It hurts.”
Her eyes are clouded with pain, her voice a sweet murmur.
Agatha pushes me aside, breaking the spell I am under. “I’ll take her. You go help Zayn.”
I let her take the woman’s arm and lead her outside and wonder how much I will be paying in damages to the woman.
She is most definitely going to sue.
But I wouldn’t mind seeing her again.
I frown down at the unconscious man passed out at my feet and then step over him, looking over in Zayn’s direction.
He has successfully tossed the other man out on his ass. When he steps towards me to do the same to the other one, I shake my head. “I got this. At least now I know why you insist on acting as a bouncer at your clubs. You’re a pro.”
My tone is light, but I am still angry that a woman was hurt in my bar.
As I get rid of the other man, Zayn settles into the only undamaged chair at the bar. “At least that got rid of Agatha.”
I shake my head, and my mood lightens.
However, as the staff rushes to clean up, I find myself thinking about the woman who was such a perfect fit in my arms.
It is the next evening; as I clean one of the glasses, I see a familiar figure step into the bar.
Narrowing my eyes, I see the injured woman gingerly look around before taking a seat at a corner of the bar.
Her long brown hair is down today, and part of it covers her face, presumably where the bruise lays. She wears a thin cardigan, a pretty blue color, over a long blouse and a pair of jeans.
I didn’t notice what she was wearing yesterday, but she looks so prim and proper today that it makes me want to corrupt her.
Down, boy.
It is quite early in the evening, and there are only a handful of customers. I move her way, casually, and ask, “What can I get you?”
She looks up, startled at hearing my voice.
Then her whole face brightens in a way that makes me blink. “Hi. Hey. You’re the nice guy from yesterday. You offered to take me to the hospital.”
I find myself nodding, taken aback by her bright smile. “How’s your face?”
Her smile wilts a little bit, and then she moves her hair to a side to show me. “I covered it with makeup to hide it. Everyone at school kept asking if somebody had beaten me up. I told them I got in a bar fight, but they didn’t believe me.”
I have to struggle to hide my amusement at the disappointment in her voice. “Well, to be fair, you weren’t in a bar fight. You were one of the casualties.”
Then I remember her words and I frown. “School? You’re a student?”
Am I supposed to ask for her ID?
She does look pretty young.
She grins at me. “I’m a teacher. At Red Brick Public School. I teach the tiny tots.”
I glance at where her bruise is supposed to be. “How bad is it, though? Does it hurt much?”
She touches it gingerly. “No stitches, thank God. Your friend was very kind. She stayed with me throughout and then dropped me off at home. The doctor said I might have a minor concussion, but that’s it. Agatha offered to stay the night and watch over me, but I told her she didn’t have to. It looks worse than it is.”
I wonder where she manages to find the chance to catch a breath in her entire explanation. However, I do have to hide a smile at how young and eager she is.
