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“Need a hand, Shakespeare?”I have been dying to use that one.
“Um… I’m…” She’s tilting, and there’s not a thing she can do to save herself.
Timbeeer.
“Just like the movies,” I murmur before coming to her aid, flinging an arm around her tiny waist, careful not to come in contact with the scalded area, hauling her backward against my chest before she planks it on the ground. “Take it easy, Hamlet. I’ve got you.” Then I swing her up into my arms and give her a cocky eyebrow arch. “Got the head spins, Hamlet?” I try to keep the I-told-you-so out of my voice because I’m worrying over her having a concussion. We’ve gone from scalded chest to a severe health issue if she got concussed.
Her head rests against my bare shoulder, her lashes fluttering. “Ugh! Why is this happening to me? I feel silly not being on my feet. I amnotthis girl,” she argues at thin air. I bet she’s willing the dizzies to hurry up and settle. “I’ve got a hard head.” She pokes me in the chest, still with her eyes shut. “It is all your fault for turning me upside down earlier and all that blood rushing to my head. I’m perfectly coherent. I just got up too fast, and I hadn’t had anything to eat since the arse-crack of dawn when I had a small brekky.”
Excuses. Excuses.
“Open your eyes, Hamlet.”
“No. I don’t want to see your cocky face.”
I laugh.
“And don’t call me Shakespeare. Seriously, that is so high school of you.” I hear the eye roll in her tone.
She might not have a concussion after all. She’s not slurring her words or confused, and she’s giving me sass back.
Hamlet cracks an eye and looks at me. “My wallet, keys, and phone?”
“They are safe,” Keanu pipes up from behind me. “I’ve come for a bucket and mop for clean-up-the-spillage duty. You’re a tough cookie, honey, but maybe it’s time to let the hero carry you to the tub.” He leans over my shoulder and gives her a friendly kiss on the top of her head. “I’ll be up in a few moments. Feel better soon, honey.”
“How long have you known Hamlet, Keanu?” I casually ask, just as he’s reaching for the mop and bucket in the corner of the kitchen.
“Oooh…” he ponders with a bionic finger to his chin, tapping it, “about twenty minutes—give or take.”
He smiles at her.
She smiles at him.
I feel growly at this female’s connection with Keanu already—albeit small. He got to kiss her after knowing her twenty minutes give-or-take.
“Thank you for all your help.” There’s that genuine, easy smile for Keanu.What am I chopped liver?
It is tempting to break my one rule: no eye-rolling.
“No thanks, necessary, honey—Oh, I nearly forgot.” Keanu jogs over with the key that Happy threw at him, handing it to Hamlet. “Straight up those stairs”—he points—“the master bath you’ll find easily enough.”
Hamlet’s fondling the key.
I can’t help myself. “You think you can manage to get it in the hole?”
“I won’t dignify that question with an answer.”
Keanu doesn’t hide his amusement as he walks over to get the mop and bucket.
The more cheek she gives me, the better I feel about her possibly not getting concussed. “Well, while you are feeling dignified, I will carry you up the stairs.”
She grumbles under her breath.
I start walking.
We are up the stairs and through the apartment door with no sign of a gray Moses when we enter, and I get Hamlet to place the apartment key on the kitchen counter.
I’ve walked into a man cave apartment tastefully decorated in brown, red, and cream. At a glance, there are two comfortable leather couches, a practical galley kitchen, a giant screen TV, and a large picture window view of the ocean. Retro’s got himself a woman from memory, but this penthouse hasn’t got a female’s touch yet, so they are a newish couple.
