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“You. Did. Not. Just. Tell. On. Me. I—”
“Sure did, darlin.’ Mack knows everything that I could tell him. And I carry no conscience for breaking my promise to you since you broke yours first. I will do whatever is in my power to keep you in my bed and healing. And don’t think for a second, I won’t cuff you to my bed. And it will be hellishly uncomfortable. Test me again, and I will. Treat this conversation as forewarned.”
Well, damn. Man-mountain is superiorly pissed.
“Oooo, you make me mad, Slade Malone.”
“Damn freakin’ behemoth,” Phoenix says like a petulant child loud enough for me to hear.
“Damn woman.”
I love these two.
I stand there listening, with messages sent and grumbling from Phoenix. Then what sounds like proof of life getting, well, proven. But I wait it out.
Once the stormy weather calms inside the bedroom, I stroll on in, bearing my feast to feed them.
Phoenix is in bed, freshly decked out in a vintage David Bowie T-Shirt with her dreads up in a messy do on top of her head with a black bandana wrapping up all those artfully matted dreadlocks.
I put Phoenix’s health drink on the tallboy until she’s ready for it.
“Looking hot, Sweetness.” I place the food tray on top of the bed coverings, handing Slade his whiskey.
Slade looks up at the ceiling takes a deep breath before throwing the whiskey down the hatch.
“Sounds like you got Doc Fernando in a tizzy. You still determined to be a cranky lady bear?”
“I’m going to preserve what energy I have and enjoy these sandwiches and not respond to your jibe. Thank you, Tucker,” she says politely and without a hint of sass. She starts devouring the first triangle filled with chicken and salad. Her appetite’s improved.
“Well-well, where’s Sweetness, and what have you done with her? What? No smart-ass retorts?”
Slade takes a plate and stacks eight small bread triangles of mixed fillings onto it, then he excuses himself and stands just outside the bedroom in full view, typing on his phone.
“Am I that bad?” She sounds genuinely unsure as she picks up another sandwich triangle inspecting the contents before munching on it.
“Naahh.It’s okay to allow yourself to be vulnerable. You’ve given the big guy a scare that he’s fighting to control. Slade knows you’re capable, hell, I would be the first to pick you for my team from the playground, but you’ve also gotta allow him to take care of you because that’s what heneedsto cope with you getting hurt. It also doesn’t mean he thinks any less of you if you let your tough-gal guard down. Allow the big guy to be your caveman for a few days; it will do both of you good. And those are all thesensiblewords of wisdom I’m prepared to hand out today.” A man’s gotta protect his cocky reputation. “By the way, I noticed none of your gal-pals have dropped in for a bedside visit. Have you not let any family members or friends know you got hurt?”
She swallows the last triangle of chicken and salad. “That’s next on my list… in another day or two. They still think I’m on the job. My twin, Retro, will want me to tell my parents, and I’m not ready for that. I would rather be feeling better and more prepared to face anybody other than you guys. You and Slade understand the dangers of my world. Family and friends think they do. They shouldn’t know until they can see I am doing okay.”
“You think your brother wouldn’t want to know? He is a guy, but more importantly, your twin.”
“Ex-actly. He might try to change my mind. My family could try to pressure me to leave what I enjoy doing, now that I got this pesky scratch.”
Insert mental eye roll.
“Hmm… I wonder…”
“What are you wondering, Tucker?”
“Well”—I stroke my much longer beard—“now bear with me, Sweetness, not that this is any of my business, but I think I am beginning to understand this whole ‘damn woman’ and ‘damn behemoth’ banter you two have going on.”
Phoenix rolls her eyes at me mid-way to picking up another sandwich.
Oh, no, she didn’t.
“Remember when I told you once, a few months ago, out back in the Green Room at Coyote Cooter’s Country & Rocker Bar in Texas after Hudson Raine’s concert that if you rolled your—”
“Yeah-yeah. I remember. Get on with your pondering theory. I know how much you dislike eye-rolling.”
