Page 43 of Beautifully Broken Control

Cain’s expression grew serious as he looked to Anna. “You don’t like someone?”

“It’s not a matter of like, it’s a matter of trust. This one”—she pointed at me with the can opener in her hand—“is far too trusting.”

I rolled my eyes. “No, I’m just not paranoid like the two of you.” I knew there were plenty of bad people in the world. And I knew better than most that they could be closer than you ever would’ve guessed.

Cain leaned against the counter. “Get me his full name, and I’ll run him.”

Anna opened her mouth to agree, but I waved a hand between them. “Oh, no, you don’t. Doug runs a background check on anyone who comes through that door. This poor man deserves his privacy. He doesn’t need you two playing Charlie’s Angels.”

Cain’s lips twitched in a way that had my eyes zeroing right in on his mouth. “I hope I’m Charlie.”

“No, you’re the one who wears the low-cut catsuit.”

He shook his head and crossed to the sink, sticking his hands under the spray. “So, angels, what’s on the menu tonight?”

Anna grinned. “Spaghetti, garlic bread, and salad.”

“One of my favorites.” He wiped his hands on a towel.

My gaze followed the movement, focusing on his knuckles. They were bruised. What had he—? “Oh, shit!” I dropped the knife on the cutting board, but it was too late. Blood seeped from my finger where it had a nice, long gash. “Shit, shit, shit.”

Cain was in front of me in a flash. “Kenz, what—? Oh, fuck.” He instantly pressed the towel to my wound. “Here, sit down on the stool.” He ushered me back to the seat. “Anna, do you have a first-aid kit?”

She was one step ahead of him and unzipped a kit on the island in the middle of the kitchen. “I told you to be careful. When will you learn?” She pulled out some sort of antibacterial spray, gauze, and tape.

Cain carefully removed the towel. “This might need stitches.”

I shook my head fiercely. “No stitches.”

He probed the wound, and I winced. “Scared of needles?”

“Something like that.” I was scared of an emergency room bill when I didn’t have health insurance.

Cain continued assessing the wound. “Anna, do you have super glue in the office?”

“What in the devil for?”

“Just trust me.”

“All right.” She headed for the office.

Cain met my gaze. “It hurt?”

I swallowed hard. “It doesn’t feel like puppy kisses.”

“We’ll get you fixed up.” He shook the bottle of antibacterial spray and coated my finger. I sucked in a breath. “Shit. I didn’t think it would hurt, or I would’ve warned you.” He blew gently on my hand.

“Sometimes, it’s better not to know the hurt’s coming.”

Cain’s eyes met mine again, the dark blue in them almost seeming to glow. “Never can prepare for pain, I guess.”

“I found some!” Anna jogged back into the kitchen. “Jeez, you two look like you’re about to make out. How can you make almost slicing off a finger look sexy?”

I choked on my laugh, but Cain just held out a hand for the glue. Anna huffed. “‘Thank you, Anna, for running your sweet ass to the office and back. I really appreciate it.’ Is that too much to ask?”

Cain shot Anna a grin that would’ve melted the panties off a nun. “Thank you, gorgeous.” He made an exaggerated motion of checking out her backside. “And that ass is sweet.”

Anna began fanning herself. “Boy, you are lethal.”

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