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Just as she reaches for the extra-large coffee, a commotion starts behind me, but I’m all about Hamlet and her bubble butt, not realizing things will go spectacularly pear-shaped.
Hamlet’s keys clunk on the ground when she gathers both paper bags and her coffee, and I instinctively bend over to retrieve the keys just as she bends. Her bubble butt has my undivided attention as it greets my face, and I’m fantasizing about all the dirty things my tongue could get up to when suddenly my fantasy bursts as I get propelled forward.Fast.
It’s more like I’ve been slammed into by a Mack truck.
My face smooshes into the bubble butt, which in the right setting—being naked—I would not be complaining about my mouth hitting her butt. In this case, my shoulder rams into her like a bull out of the gate.
It all happens so fast. There’s a loud crack as Hamlet’s forehead smashes down against the counter’s edge, and she crumbles to the ground with me landing my weight against her petite body as my hands splay out to avoid crushing her.
Shit!
I’m off her as fast as I can onto my knees. I know she’s conscious because she rolls slowly over onto her back. Her forehead has split an inch, blood snaking its way down past her eye. Hot coffee paints her chest and stomach, staining her white shirt in a graffiti of puddles and splatters.
Levi hollers from somewhere behind me to the sounds of furniture getting bumped about, “Oi! You two, break it up. The rest of you, no filming, so don’t even think about whipping those phones out. Not cool. A voucher for two meals for the price of one if you comply. If you choose to ignore my polite request, you will get escorted off the premises immediately, and I will confiscate your phone, and you will no longer be welcome at Peace Café. Sorry, not sorry. I know you are all regulars, and I would hate that to hap—Isaid,BREAK. IT. UP!” There’s scuffling, but my eyes are only for Hamlet. I know Levi and Keanu can handle themselves.
“Are you okay?” I know she’s not because—duhblood—and she’s a rocking rowboat on a choppy wave of dazed and confused. I shrug out of my leather jacket and strip my white T-shirt off, scrunching it up before pressing it against her eye. Head wounds bleed rivers. “Hold on—”
“My chest… hot,” she croaks.
Shit!
“Apologies in advance for what I’m about to do.” I grip her white top in both hands and tear it down the center, revealing a pretty, pale-pink, lacy bra, securing an ample bosom and what I already suspected would be a toned stomach.
Hamlet lets out a noise of relief as cooler air hits her chest as she shucks off the torn pieces.
I don’t like the idea of her half-naked, so I hold my leather jacket over her chest until she catches on and grips it, but not before I see the patchy reddened skin. “Keanu, water!”
“I’m on it. Look up!” He slides two bottles of cold water to the edge of the counter. “Pour those over the scalded areas, slowly. I’ll bring more and a washcloth for her eye?” Keanu is on the ball.
I get up, grab the bottles, then kneel again before lifting my leather jacket enough to get my hands under it. “Hamlet, you’re going to get wet, but you will feel better.” I start pouring.
“Thank you,” she says softly, letting out a little shiver when the cold water first touches her skin.
I contain how pissed off I am that the little spitfire is hurt. I can hear Levi behind us with the idiots, but my full attention for the moment is with Hamlet. The material is soaking up the blood, but she will probably need stitches.
Keanu crouches on the other side of Hamlet, bringing the supplies and two thick towels with him.
I get busy swapping out my T-shirt with the white cloth and gently press it against her forehead while Keanu places the towels on either side of her to soak up the run-off.
“How do you feel?” Keanu rubs the back of his neck. The guy understands all too well what burns feel like. His back is a road map of scars where he got burnt badly six years ago.
“Much better, thank you.” Her face isn’t scrunching up anymore, but she will have bruises for sure, and her forehead is starting to inflate.
“We need an ice pack. Keanu—?”
“Yup, it looks like we do. I’m on it. You keep pouring water, bro.”
I go to open another bottle, but Hamlet takes it off me. “I can handle it, thank you,” she says softly. The spitfire has leaked out of her.
I glance behind me at the disturbance that still hasn’t calmed down. Two young, barely adult-aged dickheads are the cause of Hamlet’s pain. Levi and a large Samoan-looking guy in a chef’s hat have them separated, but the boys haven’t learned to curb their tempers. They are bucking like broncos in their prime.
My inner caveman is pissed-off; he wants to wander over and dole his punishment out to the two of them, but I am staying put with Hamlet. She is my priority.
Levi locks onto the calmer boy, who is still bucking but seems to be running out of energy. “Bailey, enough! Unless you want me to order Keanu to call the police, citing public disturbance and bodily harm, you will settle your ass down. Both you and Atticus need to settle your differences now and apologize to the lady you have inadvertently caused pain and suffering. You feel me?”
Happy has a firm grip on the Atticus kid. Happy would be the Samoan, who has a grimace plastered on his face while his bucking bronco is determined to get to the other kid.
Keanu is back with ice packs and a pack of frozen peas. “Honey, your choice.” Hamlet points to the peas. Keanu places it on the affected area.
