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“She was asking for a job.”
“As what? A massage therapist?”
“The open housekeeping position at the hotel.”
“Oh…” trickled out of her mouth. She hadn’t expected that.
If she cared enough to be jealous, that was enough for me. “Anyway, you wanted to talk?”
“First, let’s patch you up. Stay very, very still.” She removed the cap from a tube.
When she turned it, I caught the wordsSuper Glueon the side. My eyes, at least my good one went wide. I put my hand up to hers. “Hey. You’ve got to be kidding. Glue?”
She pushed my forehead down with her free hand. “It’s same as the medical-grade stuff, just in a different package. Kevin is—was cheap. Too cheap to go to the emergency room after fights. So I patched him up instead. Trust me, Super Glue is the way to go, unless you need staples.”
I pulled my hand back. “Fights?”
“I told you he was a cage fighter, remember?”
“Yeah. I was counting on that.”
She leaned close with the tube but then pulled back. “Counting on what?” she asked.
“Even UFC fights have rules, and naturally, he’s been training to the rules. Bar fights don’t have rules, so he wasn’t prepared for me to punch his throat and kick him in the balls.”
“You took one hell of a chance. He could have killed you.”
“It worked, didn’t it?”
She brought the tube of glue close again. I covered the cut with my hand. “Wait a minute.”
“Shut up, get your hand out of the way, and hold still. If you don’t behave, I might just glue your fingers to your forehead.”
“Are you sure this is safe?”
“Close your eyes if you’re scared. “This is safe, and medically appropriate.”
I shut up, but I damned well did not close my eyes.
The tube came closer as she leaned over and squinted. “You accused me of lying two weeks ago. I never lied to you, or about you, and I also wouldn’t—”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t interrupt. If you distract me, it’ll leave a scar.” She pressed around the cut with her fingers a few times. “If you ever suggest that I’m a liar again, I’ll take this tube and glue parts of you together that you’ll regret. Nod if you understand me.”
I nodded with a vision of my hand glued to my dick. I’d read online some girl had done that to her now ex-boyfriend when she gotten mad. I was an ex-boyfriend, wasn’t I? Had Angela read the same article? “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did mean it, but I’m over it.” She tapped me on the forehead. “Now take in a deep breath and hold very still.”
I held a large breath and waited for the glue.
She applied it and pressed on my skin. Ten seconds later she said, “Done. Now wasn’t that better than a needle and thread?”
I released the breath. “That’s it?”
“You have to stay still for a few minutes. Now, what did Pris mean about you being stupid?” I asked.
I wasn’t about to complain about having her straddle me a little longer, especially now that she was talking to me. “Nothing special. She thinks all of her brothers are stupid.”
