Page 27 of Bazooka
Was it possible that he’d spent the night in bed with me and I couldn’t remember? If so, John Smith is a dead man.
“I spent the night on the floor, but I didn’t sleep much. I was on my laptop, going through some case files.”
“You could have joined me on the bed, you know?” I grumbled.
He looked at me and grinned. “I know.”
Oh, fuck him.And fuck his smile because it made my heart hurt. It was a good thing he didn’t smile a lot. There… another pang. I started to rub my chest above my heart, wondering if you could have a heart attack in your twenties?
“By the way, my friends can come around noon. Is that okay?” I asked him.
“Yeah, that works.”
I sent a text to Alain before Bazooka handed me a doughnut. I brought it to my mouth, only to groan in pain.
“Fuck.”
“What is it?”
“My shoulder.”
If it wasn’t my ankle that was hurting, it was my shoulder, and vice versa. Lately, all I could feel was pain.
When Bazooka gripped my waist, I squealed in surprise, only to find myself seated on the countertop.
“Jesus,” I gasped, as my heart went crazy. “I need a warning for that kind of thing.”
Bazooka broke off a piece of a doughnut and stuffed it into my mouth, which wasn’t hard to do because I was agape. When his fingers grazed my lips, I rested my palms on the countertop and closed my eyes, feeling dizzy.
“Are you okay?” he said, sounding amused.
“Mm-hmm,” I hummed, chewing on a doughnut because I didn’t want to choke on it.
Was he feeding me again? Yes. Did it mean something? Nah. No way. Also, was he always like this? With everyone? Kind, considerate, caring. It became my mission to find out.
I opened my eyes, only to see him stuffing the rest of the doughnut into his mouth. It was the second time we’d literally shared food. Could he taste my saliva on his fingers?No, don’t go there.The thought alone was soo hot.Stop!
“More?” Baz asked me.
I shook my head because I knew I wouldn’t be able to take it, not without jumping his bones. Instead, I reached for my coffee that he placed beside me, wondering. What would he do if I just… threw myself at him and kissed him? If we were suddenly mouth-to-mouth and dick-to-dick. Would he slap me? Kiss me back?Ravage me? All the options made me feel so weak that I almost dropped my cup.
“I have good news,” Bazooka said, pouring himself a glass of water from the tap. “I thought of someone who could take care of you.”
I choked on my coffee, spitting some of it onto my T-shirt. Boner killer! Boner killer!
Bazooka started to dry my T-shirt with a napkin, looking at me quizzically.
“Yeah?” I mumbled, unable to think of anything better to say.
“I remembered I have a friend here who’s a nurse. Well, more of a caretaker. He works part-time in a nursing home, and he owes me a favor. He could visit you at your place, maybe even move in with you until you get better. He could give you the care that you need.”
“No fucking way!” I exclaimed, shaking with… helplessness? Anger? Both? “I don’t need your fucking charity, I don’t want you to waste that favor on me, and I’m not letting a stranger into my home. And in no way will I let him take care of me as if I were a ninety-year-old grandpa who can’t control his bowel movements.”
Bazooka crossed his arms over his chest, watching me intently.
“What do you want, then?” He asked me the stupidest question in the world.
“You know what I want,” I replied, avoiding his eyes.
