CHAPTER SIX
SITTING ON THE ground outside the open truck door, his knees pulled up to his skinny chest, wearing only a T-shirt and jeans too short, the boy huddled against a rear tire. Rowdy guessed him to be eight, maybe nine years old. When the boy saw them, he jumped to his feet, his skinny chest working, his gaze filled with wariness.
“Who’s this?” Rowdy asked.
“He’s nobody. Don’t worry about it.”
Nobody. Rowdy forced himself to breathe calmly. “Is he your son?”
“That’s what the bitch says.” Not realizing his own peril, the guy laughed. “The runt don’t really look like me though, does he?”
A strange sort of peace settled over Rowdy. He knew what it was, because he’d felt it before. A defense mechanism. A way to push aside emotion so that only cold, lethal intent remained. It was how he’d coped back then, and how he would cope right now. “Where’s his coat?”
“How the fuck do I know?”
Chills had the boy trembling. And damn it, Rowdy shook with him. “What’s your name, kid?”
The boy put up his chin, silent, miserable. Afraid to speak.
Impatient, the thug barked, “Get back in the truck, Marcus.” And then to Rowdy, “I told you, his mom had shit to do so I had to drag him along. He won’t be a problem. He knows to stay out of the way. Now forget about him, will you?”
“No, actually, I won’t.” Despite the man’s order, Marcus didn’t move, and damn, Rowdy wanted to make him understand. He met the boy’s gaze. “Sorry, Marcus.” I’m about to shake up your world.
Maybe Marcus did catch on, because his eyes went wide—and suddenly Avery opened the back door of the bar. She looked...he didn’t know. He’d never seen her look like that before.
She flashed an uncertain and very false smile. “I’m sorry to intrude. I figured the young man should come in with me while you two...negotiate your business.”
Was that her nice way of saying, While you kill that no-good SOB?
Belligerence amplified the man’s bloodshot eyes. “He’s staying with me.”
Before Rowdy could bury his fist in the man’s face, Avery half stepped out, not so far as to put herself at risk, but far enough to intrude and make the bully want her to back off. “Oh, but you know what they say. Little pitchers have big ears. I’m sure you men would like to keep this conversation private.”
The man’s eyes narrowed on the kid. “He knows to keep his trap shut.”
Volcanic rage expanded Rowdy’s chest. He pushed past the man and put a hand on Marcus’s narrow shoulder. “Go on in, okay? She’ll get you something to drink.”
The boy dug in. “I’m not thirsty.”
Rowdy had expected that answer, because long, long ago, he’d given it a few times himself. To expedite things before his fragile thread of control snapped, he hardened his tone. “In.”
“Do what you’re told!” The man drew back a hand, ready to belt the boy.
Rowdy flattened one hand to the bastard’s chest and shoved him back hard. The single-word command cut through the night: “Don’t.”
Taken by surprise, the man floundered. “What the fuck?”
“Oh, and Rowdy?” Avery got the boy inside and leaned out again. “In case you needed help moving the jukebox, I called Logan.” And with that parting shot, she closed the door.
Rowdy narrowed his eyes. He finally had the man alone, and here Avery had snatched away his opportunity by calling in the law.
Had she known all along what he planned to do? Probably. Avery was cagey that way. Very little got by her.
The man shoved back from Rowdy’s hold. “I’m owed more than the jukebox for all my trouble. Like I said, a few cases of whiskey will help, but—”
Fury closed in, narrowing his vision. “All you’ll get from me is the beating you deserve.”
“What are you talking about?”
Egging him on, Rowdy said, “You’re a coward, a sloppy drunk and I’m going to enjoy taking you apart.” Rarely did he ever hit first. He’d learned that in the legal world, words were allowed, but first contact was frowned upon.
Predictably, what he said enraged the man enough that he threw a big, meaty punch. Rowdy ducked, but not in time. The blow connected with his shoulder and knocked him off balance. He dropped to one knee, then braced for the impact of a tackle.
They went into the sharp gravel; it cut into Rowdy’s spine and shoulders before he rolled, shoving the heavier man to the side. Now with the gravel assaulting his knees, Rowdy pounded the other man with several heavy hits, catching him in his fat gut, his solar plexus, his chin.
The smell of blood blinded him to everything else. He hit harder and heard the bully’s nose break. His knuckles hurt, but it was a small price to pay for the pleasure he got in his retaliation.
When Rowdy got back to his feet, the big man rolled, trying to grab for his legs. Rowdy kicked out and got him in the nuts.
That took the fight right out of him.
Out of the shadows, a man said, “Jesus, Darrell, you fucking puke. If you can’t hold your own, then don’t start this shit.”
Breathing hard and fast, Rowdy turned, and another man appeared. He flashed a grin—and a big tactical knife with a serrated blade.
“You should have given me my money,” Darrell grunted as he struggled up to his knees.
“Fuck you.” Rowdy didn’t know the second man, but he knew Darrell, the abusive prick.
He kicked him in the chin, rendering him flat on his back, out cold.
Immediately Rowdy turned to fend off the knife wielder, but the second guy was on him too fast. As Rowdy lunged away, he felt the blade slice over his shoulder and down his back. Liquid heat ran along his nerve endings.
Not that he’d let it slow him down. A lifetime of hatred kept the pain at bay. Any man who abused his kid deserved a beating—and so much more.
With singular purpose, Rowdy dodged the next thrust of the knife and got in a solid punch that staggered the man. It didn’t take him down, though; it only pissed him off, wiping that smirking grin right off his face.
Keeping the knife at the ready, he spit blood to the side. “You’re dead meat, asshole.”
Coiled, ready, Rowdy smiled and beckoned him forward. “Let’s go, then.”
Sirens pierced the night, not an unfamiliar occurrence, but Rowdy figured this time it was Logan sticking his cop nose in where it wasn’t wanted.
Time to wrap this up.
The man circled to the side, but Rowdy moved with him, slowly closing the space between them. “You’ve got the knife,” Rowdy taunted. “What are you waiting for?”
The fool charged at the same time that Rowdy adjusted his stance to kick out—and he broke the man’s elbow. The knife fell from his hand and into the rough gravel. Rowdy moved in, punching him in the face, once, twice, a third time.
Dropping to his knees, the man swayed.
With one final kick to the chin, Rowdy sent him backward in a heap.
Behind Rowdy, someone applauded.
He spun around, and there was Cannon leaning against the side of the brick exterior wall of the bar. “Now that was more like it.”
Dumbfounded, Rowdy said, “I didn’t hear you.” Which had to mean the younger man was good, because no way was Rowdy slipping.
“Just got here,” Cannon said. “I would have helped out, but looked like you had it handled. Mostly, anyway.”
Rowdy opened and closed his fists, not quite satisfied with the damage he’d done.
Not sure he could ever be satisfied when it came to child abuse.
Struggling to get his shit together, Rowdy forced a deep breath. “What are you doing here?”
“I was curious.” Cannon accidentally kicked Darrell as he stepped forward. “And you did offer me a free drink.”
Rowdy looked at Cannon, then at Darrell sprawled on the ground, a hand at his gushing nose, bruises swelling his face and the side of his head. Darrell’s cohort gave a faint moan, still out but starting to come around.
The black cloud of destructive anger continued to swim before Rowdy’s eyes. He blinked to clear things up, then rotated his head, doing what he could to flex out the coiled tension.
The sirens grew louder before suddenly stopping. Great. Just the type of advertisement his place didn’t need. He worked his fists again. “That drink will have to wait.”
“Yeah?” Cannon shook his head at Darrell when he started to move. “Why’s that?”
Logan stepped out of the alley, gun drawn. When he saw Rowdy standing there—doing his damnedest to look relaxed—he relaxed, too. “You’re okay?”
“Yeah, sure.” But he knew he wasn’t.
From the other side of the bar, Reese cursed. “Pigheaded fool. How can you be okay when your back is covered in blood?”
“Knife,” Cannon said, apparently not discomfited by the bloodshed or the appearance of cops. He nodded at Darrell’s backup. “If Rowdy hadn’t gotten so sloppy, it would have been a perfect performance.”
“And you are?” Reese asked, while lifting Rowdy’s shirt to survey the damage.
Rowdy did the introductions. “Cannon Colter, meet Detectives Logan Riske and Reese Bareden.”
“Huh.” Cannon moved to inspect Rowdy’s back, too. “Somehow I didn’t figure you for the type to hang with cops.”
“I’m not.” Rowdy tried to shrug Reese away. “My sister married Logan.” He glared at Reese. “This big oaf came along as part of a package deal or something.”
“Can’t you just feel the love?” At six feet six inches, Reese towered over almost everyone. He glanced at Cannon. “I take it you aren’t part of the trouble?”
“He’s not.” Rowdy’s knees started to feel wobbly, meaning he’d lost too much blood. Shit. “They attacked me.”
“Yeah,” Logan said. “Avery told me when she called.”
Two uniformed cops joined them. With a quick order from Logan, they cuffed the goons and began reading them their rights.
Logan looked at Rowdy, a brow cocked. “Wanna tell me why?”
Why not? He had a lot to say, and maybe not a lot of time to say it before he just might pass out. “These two wanted to shake me down. Something to do with a drug deal they’d made with the previous owner.”
“It was bound to happen.” Reese holstered his weapon and grabbed Rowdy’s arm. “Sit down.”
“I think I will.” Rowdy’s legs more or less collapsed under him. The rough gravel dug through the denim of his jeans to his backside, but he refused to complain.
“I’ll call for an ambulance,” Logan stated, and although he had his “I’m in charge” voice going, Rowdy heard the concern.
“Don’t even think it.” Rowdy tipped his head toward the bar. “There’s a kid in there with Avery. Darrell brought him here, and I’m pretty sure he’s his son.”
Sensing there was more, Logan waited.
“Don’t let him go anywhere. I mean it, Logan. He’s...” He’s me, when I was a kid, and I know just how fucked that can be. Rowdy blew out a breath. “I’ll take care of it. Of him, I mean.” Somehow.
“We have people for that,” Reese said, and he ripped Rowdy’s shirt in two. Thankfully, his back was mostly numb. He barely felt it when Reese used the shredded shirt to clean up some of the blood so he could see the actual cut. “Jesus, was he trying to fillet you?”
Unconcerned, Cannon checked it out for himself. He touched, prodded and, somewhat satisfied, said, “You know how to move, so it’s not that deep, but you’re bleeding like a stuck pig.”
“He’ll live.” This time Reese was pulling Rowdy back to his feet.
Why, Rowdy didn’t know. He only knew that he didn’t want Marcus caught up in the system. “Listen to me, Logan. I’ll help the boy myself. I’ll get a few stitches and be right back—”
“The emergency room takes forever,” Cannon informed him. “Looks like you’ll only need one layer of stitches. I think you avoided muscle damage. But still, you’ll be lucky if it only takes four or five hours.”
Reese lifted his brows. “You don’t look like a doctor to me.”
“Fighter.” Cannon shrugged. “We see our fair share of serious injuries.”
All three men paused. Rowdy was the first to speak. “Professional?”
“I’m working on it.” Cannon pulled off his stocking cap, ran a hand over his black hair then tugged it on again. “But I don’t yet make enough to get by.”
“Which is why you came here?” Even with the blood loss, it started to click for Rowdy. “You’re looking for a job?”
“If you’re hiring.”
Perfect timing. Rowdy turned to Logan and stopped him before he made the call. “Don’t do it, Logan.”
“Sorry, but you have to trust me on this one.” Logan finished pushing in a number. “You know me. Would I abandon a kid?”
There were all kinds of abandonment.
The door opened and Avery strode out. Her stern expression held a wealth of emotion, and even more resolve. As if she knew Rowdy’s most immediate concerns, she said, “Ella has Marcus. He’s worried, way too silent, but now that we got him started, he’s eating like there’s no tomorrow.” She had a couple of fresh dish towels in her hand, and one of the new black aprons.
Rowdy tried to catch her gaze, but she stepped behind him. He twisted to look at her over his shoulder. “You saw?”
“Watched most of it through the window. Thank God I’d already called Logan before things got out of hand.” She tsked at the sight of his back.
Not exactly the hysterics he’d expected.
“I’ll take Rowdy to the hospital,” she announced.
“On the bus?” Rowdy asked, just because he felt that snarky.
She shouldered Reese away and gently placed the clean cloths against his wound. “I have my car with me.” Using the long apron strings, she tied the cloths in place to stop the bleeding.
“You have a car?” He bit off a grunt of pain when she tightened the makeshift bandage around him.
“Sorry.”
“Pepper would have my head.” With his call complete, Logan closed the phone and put it away. “Reese can stay here with the kid to wait for the social worker and to make sure no more trouble shows up. I’ll drive you to the hospital, but Avery can come along if she wants.”
“Damn, you’re bossy in cop mode.” Rowdy frowned at Avery. “And in case you’ve forgotten, you have a job—”
She cut him off. “I am going with you, Rowdy Yates, and that’s that!”
Okay, he heard the near hysteria that time. So she’d only been holding it together for him? Considerate.
Now what to do? He eyed Cannon. “You know anything about working in a bar?”
“My dad used to own one.”
Perfect. “Think you can start right now?”
“Let me check my calendar....” He held out his empty hands and grinned. “You’re in luck. I’m free.”
“Good. You’re hired.” Next he narrowed his eyes at Reese. “Sorry, man, but you have to play bartender for me. I don’t close for another two hours.”
Reese, the big lug, lit up with excitement. “Go get stitches or whatever.” He took off his coat and started rolling up his sleeves. “I’ve got it covered.”
* * *
AVERY WANTED TO coddle Rowdy so badly. She wanted to stroke his head and hug him and somehow make his life different.
Instead she sat in silence beside him in the backseat while Logan drove—with Rowdy holding her hand as if to offer comfort.
Such an amazing man.
Darrell had downed four whiskeys at the bar before he’d started making his demands. At first she hadn’t understood, and when she did catch on to what he wanted, Avery had tried to dissuade him. She knew Rowdy wouldn’t give him a thing, and she hated to see an ugly confrontation take place.
But the more the man drank, the nastier he got, and then, right after the breather had called again, she’d gotten lost in thought and Darrell had used that moment to grab her wrist.
She flattened her mouth, remembering again the discomfort, the fear, the...memories.
“Hey.” Rowdy lifted her hand to his mouth. “You okay?”
From the front seat, Logan snorted.
Rightfully so. Rowdy had a nearly two-foot cut from the top of his right shoulder all the way to the bottom of his left shoulder blade. He sat slightly forward, his left forearm braced on a thigh to keep his back from making contact with the seat.
But other than that, no one would know he’d been hurt.
She wasn’t even sure Rowdy knew it; he seemed so immune to pain.
Yes, she’d fretfully watched much of the fight through the kitchen window. When the knife wielder had shown up, she’d wanted so badly to rush out to Rowdy’s defense. With a cast-iron skillet in hand, she’d waffled, undecided if she’d help or hinder him with her presence—and the bastard had cut him.
She drew in a shuddering breath.
“Avery? Come on, honey. Ignore Logan and tell me you’re okay.”
“I’m okay.” She freed her hand and reached across him to straighten the coat over his shoulders. Since Reese had ripped away his shirt, he was bare chested except for the dish towels patching up his wound and Logan’s jacket, which he’d tried to refuse.
His body... Well, even so badly wounded, he made her want to melt. Her hand just naturally gravitated to his chest, smoothed over his downy, dark blond chest hair. She wanted to cuddle into him, put her cheek to his chest and feel his warmth, breathe in his vitality.
She wanted to reassure herself that he was truly okay.
But if she showed too much concern, if Rowdy realized how much she actually cared, would he push her away? So many times she’d seen him hook up with a woman and then the next day he’d give her his friendly but distant smile, the smile that said we’re done.
She couldn’t bear the idea of getting that smile from him. But neither could she keep the words contained. Leaning against his shoulder, Avery whispered, “God, Rowdy, you scared me half to death.”
“Sorry.” He looked out the window at the dark night. “You shouldn’t have been watching.”
And if she hadn’t been, if Cannon hadn’t shown up or if that knife had stabbed him as intended, he could have died in the back of the bar with no one knowing. Those two evil cretins might have dragged his body away and...
Breath catching, hands holding his rock-solid biceps, Avery turned her face into him. He was here now, alive and well if a little bloodied. How many more fights would she have to witness?
And why did he want to fight so much anyway? She should introduce him to the tried-and-true method of conversation.
Rowdy slipped an arm around her. “Relax, babe.” And then with morbid humor, “You won’t get rid of me that easily.”
Logan glanced at them in the rearview mirror. “He really is fine, you know. I don’t want to stoke his already healthy ego, but he has a few good moves.”
This time Rowdy snorted, probably at the way Logan underplayed his ability.
“I know.” Avery couldn’t help but wonder what type of life had given him those skills. She recalled how he’d reacted to seeing Marcus—and her blasted heart cracked in two. She tucked her face in more, not wanting him to see her.
With a gentle touch, Rowdy smoothed his fingertips over her temple. “Where I grew up, you lost more than your lunch money if you couldn’t hold your own. Fighting isn’t a big deal for me, so don’t sweat it, okay?”
Not a big deal, and yet he’d looked so different after seeing the boy, devastated in a way no man should ever be.
She desperately needed to know why.
Even without a shirt, Rowdy felt wonderfully warm. She got as close as she could to steal some of his heat. “When Darrell mentioned that he had his son with him, I understood.”
“I know you did, and I appreciate it.”
He appreciated it? She straightened up and frowned. “What does that mean?”
“You handled it well. Did the right thing by calling Logan and getting Marcus inside.”
Dubious, Avery said, “Well, it didn’t take a genius to pick up the clues.”
“It’s called situational awareness, and not everyone has it.” He shifted. “Not everyone would have reacted, either.”
Avery couldn’t believe that. “Only a true monster would ignore something so blatant.”
He laughed with grim sarcasm. “If you say so.” And then, going serious again: “Give Ella a call and see what’s happening with the kid, will you?”
Logan replied before Avery could. “The social worker I called will keep me informed. I know him. He’s a good guy who really cares.”
Avery could tell that Rowdy didn’t like it, but he accepted that this was out of his control. The rest of the twenty-minute trip was made in painful silence.
Just as Logan pulled up to the emergency room doors, his phone beeped with an incoming message. He put the car in Park and read the text.
We sent a unit by Darrell’s place. No other kids.
Rowdy had suggested that they check, only to have Logan tell him it was routine to do so. Knowing he had a younger sister—a sister Logan had married—gave Avery more insight into how Rowdy thought about things, and why.
“They found the mom,” Logan added. “She was coked out of her head, unresponsive. Possible OD. They took her to the hospital.”
Rowdy shoved his door open and stalked from the car. Avery slid out of the seat behind him. Given the blood on his body, he drew immediate attention but didn’t appear to care.
Knowing he hurt in ways far worse than from a knife wound, she wished she could console him. “Rowdy?”
He paused, his back to her.
“Wait for me, please.” She caught up, stepping in front of him to once again arrange the jacket over his wide shoulders. She had to stretch up to reach, and Rowdy held her waist, patiently letting her fuss.
Logan turned his car over to the valet parking and joined them. “They’ll have questions for me on how this happened, so try to look more like a victim and less like a pissed-off marauder, will you?”
If anything, that only darkened Rowdy’s countenance more. He exuded menace, sending others to walk a wide path around him.
He entered the emergency room on his own steam, but Avery wouldn’t let him go through this alone. Not any of it.
If he wanted her to back off, he’d have to flat out tell her. Until then, she planned to stick by his side whether he appreciated her concern or not.
Unfortunately, Cannon proved correct. Rowdy filled out his insurance information, Logan explained the situation for a report and an hour later, after only a cursory check—presumably to ensure he wouldn’t die—they were still waiting.
When Logan took out his phone, Rowdy watched him. “Checking on the kid?”
“Calling your sister.”
Rowdy went still. “Does she know—?”
Logan shook his head. “When I got the call, she was already asleep. She woke long enough to know I was rushing out, but she didn’t know it was for you. She assumed it was routine police business.”
“Good.” Rowdy stood, removed the jacket and folded it before handing it to Logan. It would have to be dry-cleaned, but Logan didn’t seem to mind. “Don’t tell her.”
His eyes widened. “For that, she would kill us both.”
“Yeah, probably.” Rowdy ran a hand over his face, flinched at the pain that caused in his back and carefully dropped his arm again. “So how about you go home to her and handle things so that she doesn’t come charging down here? Think you can manage that?”
After scrutinizing Rowdy, Logan pushed up from his seat. “I’ll do my best, but I’m not making any promises.”
His best must have been good enough because even though Pepper called twice to talk with Rowdy, she hadn’t shown up in person. Avery was a little disappointed. She wanted to meet the woman who could make Logan and Rowdy quail.
During the phone conversations, feeling very much like an interloper, Avery had listened in. How Rowdy spoke to his sister filled her with a touch of envy.
Rowdy was the same and yet somehow gentler, his tone filled with unmistakable affection. At the end of the second conversation, Rowdy again insisted that he didn’t need Pepper to come to the hospital. “You have a husband to tend to.” Whatever Pepper replied had Rowdy groaning. “Forget it, I don’t need details.”
Avery bit back her grin, easily imagining what had been said.
After a few more words, Rowdy ended the call with a gruff, “Love you, too, kiddo.”
Emotion got a stranglehold on Avery’s throat. She was very, very grateful that Rowdy had someone special in his life.
He deserved that and so much more.
With the call complete, he put his phone in his pocket and again prowled the small space of the room. Like a caged lion, he drew the wary attention of every other hapless patient waiting to be seen. He went to a window and looked out at the parking lot, bright with security lamps.
He had to be exhausted and in pain, and she knew he was worried about Marcus. Avery needed to do something to help.
Coming up behind him, she examined his broad back. With the binding in place, the bleeding had stopped, but all round it, bruising started to show.
When she lightly touched her fingers to him, he stiffened.
Not knowing if it was pain and a rejection to being coddled that made him so tense, she moved to his side. “Do you want a drink?” He didn’t answer. “Or maybe I can find you a snack from a vending machine.”
His light brown gaze cut to her. “I’d rather you weren’t here at all.”
She flinched. That hurt worse than she’d expected. With no idea what to say, she stared up at him, helpless, hurting for him.
“Damn it.” Rowdy put his hand to her head, smoothed it over her hair. “Don’t look like that. I didn’t mean...I hate it that you’re stuck here with me. I’d ask you to head on home, except that as late as it is, I don’t want you going to your place alone.”
Praying he’d understand, Avery said, “I feel the same about you.”
He gave her a crooked, mean smile. “There’s a world of difference, babe.”
“You’re hurt whether you want to admit it or not.” Ready to insist if necessary, Avery said, “You’re going to need some help.”
“Yeah? What kind of help are we talking about?” His hand drifted from her hair to the side of her face. His thumb brushed her bottom lip. “You gonna help me out of my clothes? Maybe shower with me? Tuck me into bed?”
Even now, he was on the make. She shook her head and did her best not to react. “Listen up, Rowdy. You. Are. Wounded.”
“It’s not that big of a deal.” His heated gaze zeroed in on her breasts. “I sure as hell wouldn’t let it slow me down.”
His look was so carnal, she had to fight the urge to cover herself. “Well, it’d slow me down!”
“Shhh, relax.” The mean smile turned knowing and indulgent. “You’re drawing attention.”
Horrified by that possibility, she closed her eyes to count to ten.
His warm breath teased her ear. “Say the word, Avery, and we can go as slow as you like.”
Oh, God, he sounded serious. Did nothing get to him?
She met his gaze, and decided that no, not much did. She was saved from replying when a nurse appeared, ready to show him to a room.
It surprised her when Rowdy snagged her hand and tugged her along with him. The next few minutes were excruciating as two nurses gave her the stink eye while oohing and aahing over him.
Whatever happened to professionalism?
“Looks like you’re in overall excellent health,” one nurse cooed.
Avery glared at her.
Rowdy gave his charming, devil’s smile. “Thanks.”
Of all the... Avery laced her hands together. “Maybe if you check his back instead of his chest, you’ll find the injury.”
Rowdy’s smile expanded into a grin, and he used Avery’s hand to pull her close.
Both nurses wanted to know what had happened, which Avery supposed made sense, but they mixed in totally inappropriate comments, too.
“So this happened at your bar? What’s the name?”
“And where is it?”
Coy bitch, Avery thought. “Does that really matter?”
The nurse didn’t take the hint. She teased Rowdy, saying, “What does the other guy look like?”
“Were you fighting over a woman?” the other asked. “How sweet.”
Sweet? “Fighting is never a good idea!”
Rowdy patted her hand. “Sorry, she’s had a rough night.”
At the breaking point, Avery opened her mouth to blast everyone in the room, but all she got out was “I—” before Rowdy kissed her.
With both nurses watching.
It wasn’t a wimpy little kiss. Nope. It was a hot, damp, tongue and teasing show of possession. Whew. Her insides went liquid and her anger melted away.
Rowdy finally let her up for air, kissing her lips once more, her nose and then her forehead.
Avery wavered on her feet. Stupidly, as if that explained his behavior, she said, “I’m, ah, the bartender.”
Rowdy, blast him, grinned. “Yes, you are.”
Amused, the nurses finished cleaning him up and asking their questions, then left when the doctor finally came in.
Avery needed to sit, but Rowdy still held her hand. On the off chance he actually needed her, she locked her knees, did some deep breathing to send oxygen to her muddled brain and reminded herself, over and over again, that regardless of how Rowdy acted, he was injured and needed to keep the lust in check.
His...and her own.