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“How dare you speak badly of our mayor? And you won’t sway me from speaking my truth.”
“She’s nuts,” Butch muttered.
Lara agreed. But she still had to stop her. “Really? Are you sure you want to do that?”
“Of course.”
“Because I happen to know what you do behind the shed on your property every night. Would be a shame if everyone found out about that, wouldn’t it?”
Panic filled the other woman’s face before she straightened her shoulders. “No one would believe you.”
“They would if I had photo evidence.”
Mrs. Olsen sucked in a breath. “You wouldn’t dare!”
“Try me.”
“Fine. I’ll keep quiet. But the two of you stay away from me!” Mrs. Olsen stormed off.
Huh, it seemed the threat to tell everyone that she smoked a joint each night was enough to get her off the warpath. Lara didn’t care what she did. To each their own.
But she’d been a bitch about Butch.
Nobody hurt someone she cared about.
A slow clapping had her whirling toward Butch. Heat filled her cheeks.
“Baby girl, that was so sexy.” His gaze was filled with admiration.
“What was?”
“Seeing you stick up for yourself.”
She bit her lower lip. “I don’t usually do that. Did I go too far? I just didn’t like the way she was talking about you.”
“I’m a big boy, I can take care of myself. But I got to say, watching you push back . . . yeah, sexy as fuck. Come here.” He drew her close and spun her again toward the wall. Unfortunately, her sore elbow hit the wall and she grunted in pain.
Immediately, Butch stepped back, and she wished desperately wished that she’d managed to keep her reaction to herself.
“What is it? Did I hurt you? Where?” he asked frantically.
“I’m fine,” she said hastily. “Sorry.”
His gaze narrowed. “That’s ten. On top of the three, for saying sorry.”
“Three? What do you mean, three?”
“You just said sorry again.”
Oh, shoot. Seemed she didn’t even notice anymore. She had to bite back the apology on her lips.
“What’s the ten for?”
“Lying. Show me where I hurt you.”
“You didn’t hurt me,” she told him. “My elbow was already sore. I just banged it when you turned me.”
“Show me,” he commanded.
Jeez, he could be forceful. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t find that hot. He carefully grabbed her arm and bent it up, watching her face. She winced as the skin pulled and he straightened her arm, pressing it up into the air.
“Oh, baby. This looks sore. What happened?”
“It’s all right.”
He growled, frowning.
Shit, it was going to be hard to remember not to dismiss everything she felt or that happened to her. She guessed she’d done it for so long that it was a habit.
“I mean, it doesn’t really hurt now.”
“What. Happened?” His voice was so firm, she knew she had better answer.
“I slipped over while we were getting photos. Clumsy as usual.”
“Anyone would be clumsy in this ridiculous dress.”
Oh no, he thought she looked ridiculous. That was . . . horrifying. She dropped her face down so she wouldn’t be looking at him.
“Look at me. Pretty girl, look at me.”
Damn, he always knew just what to say to get her attention.
He cupped her chin in his hand so she couldn’t look away. “I didn’t mean that you look ridiculous. You could never look anything but gorgeous.”
She snorted. “Flattery will get you everywhere. Even if it’s a complete lie.”
“Do I need to take you somewhere private and spank your ass, baby girl? Because I will. And you’re now up to eighteen.”
She stared up at him in shock, her hands going back to cover her ass without thinking. “Eighteen! I won’t be able to sit for a week.”
“Maybe then you’ll remember not to say you’re fine when you aren’t. And not to put yourself down. Got me?”
“Yes, Sir,” she whispered. Why was this so unbelievably hot?
“We need to go clean up your elbow. I can’t believe someone didn’t help you do that already.”
“Like whom? My sister? She wouldn’t put me out if I were on fire. And her minions don’t dare pee without her permission. The person who had to help me was the photographer, and he was about eighty. It wasn’t pretty.”
“Those bitches,” he growled. “Come on. There must be a first aid kit around here, somewhere.”
They ended up in a storeroom behind the kitchen, where one of the wait staff found a first aid kit. Butch finished cleaning her elbow, before he applied gauze, then wrapped it in a bandage.
“Your wrist is bruised. It looks older. Is that from you hurting it the other day?” he asked.
Shoot some of the concealer must have rubbed off.
“Ah, yes, it’s from the other day,” she said. She didn’t like keeping things from him. “Do you not think this is a bit over-the-top? It had stopped bleeding.”
“You bend your elbow a lot. It could start bleeding again. Better safe than sorry.”
