Page 25 of Cash

“Are you keeping a record of my activities?” I couldn’t help but feel a little sour. I didn’t need the reminder.

He winced. “Sorry. I’ll make a note not to care.”

And that only angered me further. “I don’t need the passive-aggressive quips, either.”

“What happened to you?”

I didn’t look at him, even when he sat across from me. I could see him in my mind’s eye, however. Straddling the backless stool, leaning over the table with his forearms crossed. Staring at me. He did care. I could feel it, and it broke my heart because I wanted so much to tell somebody. It wouldn’t help, of course, but it might make me feel a fraction better, take some of the weight off my shoulders. Lift the crushing pressure off my chest.

Tommy’s face flashed in front of me. His sweet, innocent face. That beautiful, golden hair and blue eyes that were at once so trusting and so wise and so innocent. The way he lit up when he found his Batman costume. He’d wanted to wear it when we got home, and I had said no. I didn’t want it to get ruined. I should’ve let him wear the damn thing. Tears prickled behind my eyes and I felt suspiciously close to crying.

It took a deep breath to get past it. When I was sure I could handle myself, I murmured, “Nothing that has anything to do with you. I’ll be fine. And I didn’t know it was a crime to work hard.”

He was quiet for a while, and I snuck a glance at him over the laptop screen. His handsome face looked pensive as he ran a hand over his short, neat beard.

I was never a huge fan of facial hair, but his worked. He could probably get away with just about anything.

“I never said it was a crime. I was only concerned. I hope you don’t think you need to work around-the-clock for my sake. I’m not in that big of a hurry.”

His concern was touching. Damn it, why couldn’t he be a jerk? I wouldn’t have hurt so badly for him.

“What’s the hurry in the first place?” I asked. “Just out of curiosity.” And a strong, deep urge to change the subject.

It was his turn in the hot seat, and he didn’t look pleased. “Does it matter?”

“I was only curious. Is a sort of allergy to iron such a problem for you? Why?”

He sighed, moving around like he was uncomfortable. “It’s a long story.”

“I have all the time in the world.” I packed up the tray with blood draw supplies, which he eyed warily.

“More blood?”

“More blood.”

“You’re sure about that?”

I grimaced. “Who’s the chemist here?” It was tough enough to lie without him asking questions. “Does it make you weak or tired when I take all these samples?”

“No…” He looked offended that I would even ask such a question. “A few tubes of blood per day isn’t going to affect somebody like me.”

“All right, then. I don’t see there being a problem.” I met his eyes and my heart sank. God, why couldn’t he be a jerk? I sighed. My shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m being a bitch, and it’s not your fault. I’ve been under a lot of stress. Please, don’t take it personally.”

“I never said I did.”

Too proud to admit that I was injuring his fragile male ego. Some things didn’t change, whether a man was human or shifter or whatever.

I managed to keep my head down while drawing more blood, so he wouldn’t catch my smile at his male pride.

The thought of the rest of the blood waiting in the refrigerator wiped the smile from my face.

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