something Sara did not hear
properly, asking him what it was.
“Care to repeat that?”
“I think I just fucking broke bones because of you!”
Sara almost felt sorry for him. Almost. An
inner part of her did feel sorry for her fellow human being. But when any
sympathy pertained to this man, her sorry scale was a bit lowered most days.
Still, she took a step forward.
He took a firm step back.
She held out her hand to him as a peace offering,
which then able to identify the trouble if he cooperated.
Casey glared at her hand—hard.
“Jesus! Let me take a look at it, would ya?”
“What? You know what a broken bone looks like?”
“I do,” she answered tartly.
Her eyes trapped his while he must have weighed the
pros and cons in his head. But she knew he was in too much pain to argue
otherwise, accepting any possible cons with a grain of salt. He very slowly
held out his arm for her to gather a hypothesis.
Sara placed Casey’s wrist into her palm and gently
touched the wrist bones. Had she not her own broken wrist from the car accident
a few years back, she wouldn’t have known how they felt out of place—or what
could make them hurt. And Casey’s were certainly out of place.
Sara jabbed the one she knew to be, just to make it
smart.
With a shine of fury in his eyes he yanked his arm
from her grasp, and made his wrist hurt even more. “Fucking Hell, you did that
on purpose!”
Sara wasn’t going to deny she had. “You’re the one who
broke it.”
The forced smile that came forth on his face lit up
the small room. “No. You broke it! I just happen to have it inside my
body!”
“Me?” she quizzed. “How the bloody hell did I break
your wrist?” This, she had to hear.
“You made me do it!”
A sharp brow rose on Sara’s forehead. “Oh really? I
made you pound you wrist onto your desk…hard enough to break bone?” Any
explanation in favor of this would surely be a lie.
Casey lied. “If I didn’t have to pull you into my
office, I wouldn’t have hit my desk for the pure fact you infuriate me so
bloody damn much, it’s all…” He paused, growling loudly at her.
Sara rolled her eyes in spite of to do so could easily
get her into a lot more trouble than she already in.
“And since I may have broken it,” he added.
“May?” she recklessly slipped out, checking her grin.
“Yes, may…” A sharp raise of his brow clarified it.
“You will now be driving me to the hospital to get it fixed.”
“Like hell I will!”
“Oh, yes you are,” he warned menacingly.
Sara balled her fists onto her hips. “Oh, no I am not.
Drive your own bloody damn self to the hospital.”
“Do you want me to go out there and tell Lace exactly
how you responded to my touch last night?” he threatened.
Sara’s mutiny returned tenfold. “You wouldn’t dare?”
“Wouldn’t I?” he offered, with a sudden devilish grin
to prove his point.
Sara could see he would more than shout what happened
between them inside the club last night from the nearest rooftop if it would
gain him a ride to the hospital. For a bouncer who could take a lot of pain, he
sure as hell was acting like a baby. And using blackmail? That bites!
“Fine. I’ll go with you, but you’ll owe me one full
extra hour of pay.”
“The hell I will!”
“Either that, or I go out there myself and tell Ginger
to drive you, and we both know you’d never hear the end of it if she takes you
there.”
Ginger was his other bartender—took no shit from
anyone, not even this man.
“No, Mecenna,” Casey said, shaking his head while he
cradled his arm to his torso. “You will drive me to the ER. I will not be
paying you an extra hour, and you will do it because if you don’t I’ll not only
tell Lace about last night, I’ll tell everyone in the club, and you’ll feel
every eye on you throughout the remainder of your now extended two hour shift until
your skin crawls.”
One look at his face and she suddenly believed him.
Casey
properly, asking him what it was.
“Care to repeat that?”
“I think I just fucking broke bones because of you!”
Sara almost felt sorry for him. Almost. An
inner part of her did feel sorry for her fellow human being. But when any
sympathy pertained to this man, her sorry scale was a bit lowered most days.
Still, she took a step forward.
He took a firm step back.
She held out her hand to him as a peace offering,
which then able to identify the trouble if he cooperated.
Casey glared at her hand—hard.
“Jesus! Let me take a look at it, would ya?”
“What? You know what a broken bone looks like?”
“I do,” she answered tartly.
Her eyes trapped his while he must have weighed the
pros and cons in his head. But she knew he was in too much pain to argue
otherwise, accepting any possible cons with a grain of salt. He very slowly
held out his arm for her to gather a hypothesis.
Sara placed Casey’s wrist into her palm and gently
touched the wrist bones. Had she not her own broken wrist from the car accident
a few years back, she wouldn’t have known how they felt out of place—or what
could make them hurt. And Casey’s were certainly out of place.
Sara jabbed the one she knew to be, just to make it
smart.
With a shine of fury in his eyes he yanked his arm
from her grasp, and made his wrist hurt even more. “Fucking Hell, you did that
on purpose!”
Sara wasn’t going to deny she had. “You’re the one who
broke it.”
The forced smile that came forth on his face lit up
the small room. “No. You broke it! I just happen to have it inside my
body!”
“Me?” she quizzed. “How the bloody hell did I break
your wrist?” This, she had to hear.
“You made me do it!”
A sharp brow rose on Sara’s forehead. “Oh really? I
made you pound you wrist onto your desk…hard enough to break bone?” Any
explanation in favor of this would surely be a lie.
Casey lied. “If I didn’t have to pull you into my
office, I wouldn’t have hit my desk for the pure fact you infuriate me so
bloody damn much, it’s all…” He paused, growling loudly at her.
Sara rolled her eyes in spite of to do so could easily
get her into a lot more trouble than she already in.
“And since I may have broken it,” he added.
“May?” she recklessly slipped out, checking her grin.
“Yes, may…” A sharp raise of his brow clarified it.
“You will now be driving me to the hospital to get it fixed.”
“Like hell I will!”
“Oh, yes you are,” he warned menacingly.
Sara balled her fists onto her hips. “Oh, no I am not.
Drive your own bloody damn self to the hospital.”
“Do you want me to go out there and tell Lace exactly
how you responded to my touch last night?” he threatened.
Sara’s mutiny returned tenfold. “You wouldn’t dare?”
“Wouldn’t I?” he offered, with a sudden devilish grin
to prove his point.
Sara could see he would more than shout what happened
between them inside the club last night from the nearest rooftop if it would
gain him a ride to the hospital. For a bouncer who could take a lot of pain, he
sure as hell was acting like a baby. And using blackmail? That bites!
“Fine. I’ll go with you, but you’ll owe me one full
extra hour of pay.”
“The hell I will!”
“Either that, or I go out there myself and tell Ginger
to drive you, and we both know you’d never hear the end of it if she takes you
there.”
Ginger was his other bartender—took no shit from
anyone, not even this man.
“No, Mecenna,” Casey said, shaking his head while he
cradled his arm to his torso. “You will drive me to the ER. I will not be
paying you an extra hour, and you will do it because if you don’t I’ll not only
tell Lace about last night, I’ll tell everyone in the club, and you’ll feel
every eye on you throughout the remainder of your now extended two hour shift until
your skin crawls.”
One look at his face and she suddenly believed him.
Casey
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