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Dumbass.
Roxie rubbed her jaw and winced.
She could hear Joe rummaging around on the other side of the living room. A few seconds later, a beam of light shined on her face. Irritation replaced her fear, and she welcomed it. Hell, she embraced it.
“Holy crap, jackass.” She held one hand up to shield her eyes and swatted him away with her other. “Are you trying to blind me now, too?”
“Stay still, Roxanne, and let me see how bad you’re hurt.” He crouched next to her, and when her swatting proved futile, she glared into the blinding light.
“Admiring your handiwork?” she asked.
Though Roxie couldn’t see him, she felt him stiffen.
A tiny part of her felt bad for the snark. She was being a bitch. She knew it. But her nerves were shot. She was shaky and anxious and her facehurt... and bitchy was her default. Sad, but true.
Joe stood and walked away. The beam of light from his phone revealed he was heading toward the kitchen. “It never ends with you, does it, Rox?”
She sent a death glare into his back. God, they really did bring out the worst in each other.
They were freaking adults. Responsible adults at that. She owned and ran a wildly successful café and catering company. And Joe? Well, the government trusted him enough to issue him a damn gun. So yes, they were mature adults. In theirthirties. But put them in a room together, and they reverted to being ten years old.
That wasn’t even a fair statement. When they were ten—or, technically, when they were seven and ten, and then ten and thirteen—they’d gotten along fabulously. Their friendship hadn’t gone to hell until a few years ago.
“Here.” Joe tossed something in her lap.
She yelped at the sudden coldness. A frozen bag of peas and a kitchen towel. Mumbling her thanks, she wrapped the bag in the towel and placed it against her jaw. She winced, but the cold soothed her aching face.
“Despite what you think, Roxanne, had I known it was you, I wouldn’t have hit you.” He followed his words with a grumbling noise, and she pictured him scrubbing his hands over his face. “What the hell are you doing here, anyway?”
Of course the fucker was going to make this her fault. “What amIdoing here? Excuse me, buster, but I think the better question is, what areyoudoing here?”
“Uh, news flash, Rox: this is my dad’s house.”
God, he was such an ass. “So why the hell were you lurking around in the dark?”
“Holy shit, really? First off, Rox, the power is out. Second, if anyone was lurking, it was you. You nearly took my head off with that damn baseball bat.”
She should have aimed lower.
“And third,” he continued, “why the hell are you here again?”
Yup. Definitely should have aimed lower.
“Ilivehere, you jackass. How dare you go creeping around in the dark in the middle of the night and then try to turn it around on m—”
“What do you mean, you live here?”
It was like talking to a brick wall. “It’s a pretty self-explanatory statement.”
“God, you’re such a smart-ass. Wh—”
“Seriously? Smart-ass? Me?” She scoffed. “Pot, meet kettle, Buchanan.”
He muttered a curse and took a deep breath. “Look, I talked to my dad before I left Boston, and he didn’t mention you were living here. Hell, I talk to him every week,and he’s never said anything.”
“Well,” she countered, “I had dinner with your dad literally last night, and he didn’t mention you were coming back. So don’t—”
She startled when the entryway table lamp flicked on and the refrigerator resumed its steady hum. Thank god the power was back on. She let out a sigh of relief.
