Page 42 of Beg, Borrow, or Steal

“Oh my god, Jack! Let me see it.”

He’s hissing in through his teeth, squinting his eyes and holding his hand in a vise grip. “No. I’m fine. Go back home.”

“Let me see it, Jack!”

“It’s fine, it’s just—”

There’s red oozing out from his grip.

“—Leaking blood.” I roll my eyes and grab his bicep with my hand. “Come on.”

“I don’t need your help, Bette Davis.”

“Impressive classic actress knowledge. But you’re coming with me because you need a Band-Aid at the very least and you don’t have Band-Aids here.”

“How do you know I don’t have Band-Aids?” he asks as we take the stairs down the porch, my hand still firmly holding his arm.

I pause only long enough to look at him while I ask, “Doyou have Band-Aids?”

“No.”

“Then keep it moving.”

“Your heels are somehow making you faster. And bossier. Haveyou ever considered the Olympics? Maybe they have a race just for overbearing blondes who—” At this moment we walk into my house, and he spots Amelia and Annie sitting on the couch. “My god, did we enter a time portal, and I didn’t realize it?”

“Yes, welcome toHappy Days.Sit down at the kitchen table and I’ll get the first-aid kit.”

I pass through the living room, avoiding the searching expressions of my sisters, and back to my bathroom where I grab what I need. When I come back through, Amelia and Annie are still gaping at Jack, who is clutching a paper towel around his thumb now.

“Ladies, this is Jack, CEO of hell and also my neighbor and nemesis. Jack, my sister, Annie, and sister-in-law, Amelia.”

“By ‘nemesis’ she means ‘best friend.’ ” His eyes catch mine as I sit in front of him. He dips forward and lowers his voice. “I forgot Rae Rose lives in this town. That’s Rae Rose, though, isn’t it?”

“Stop saying ‘Rae Rose’ so much. But yes—that’s her.”

He turns his charming smile to Amelia, and I oddly want to cover it with my palm. “Hi,” he says, looking a bit starstruck.

“Hi,” she says, looking similarly.

Annie doesn’t make a peep. She’s sitting like a little pink statue, eyes wide.

I block out my siblings, who clearly have no idea what to do with the fact that I’ve just paraded my neighbor/nemesis into my house.

“Let me have your hand,” I tell Jack, earning his glare again.

“I’m a grown man, I can handle my own wound care. Give me the Band-Aid and I’ll be on my way.”

“No—you’ll have no peer pressure to clean it with alcohol if you take this back to your place, and then it’ll get infected. But if I do it, you’ll be forced to grin and bear the sting to prove you have a penis. So hand it over.”

“My penis?”

I give him a flat look to which he extends his hand with a sigh. “Fine, but I can’t promise I won’t look at your chest because it’s perfectly framed right there in front of my face, and to answer your question from earlier itwasdifficult not to say ‘cleavage.’ ”

Holding back the full force of my grin is nearly painful. “Do what you must, you have my permission,” I say as I begin working on his finger. He hisses when the alcohol pad touches his skin. And even though he talked a big game, Jack doesn’t stare at my boobs. He’s too respectful for that. I almost wish he would because it’s twice as unnerving knowing he’s watching my face instead. Especially while I hold his hand like this. His big hand. I remember writing a scene about the Highlander’s hand and how big and erotic it was. I rolled my eyes while writing it because I’d never been particularly attracted to hands like this in the past, but I know of other women who like them.

Right now, I look at Jack’s knuckles and I want to sink my teeth into them.

When my sisters start talking between themselves—or pretending to—Jack leans in close and drops his voice. So close I feel his breath. “Do they know about your secret?”

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