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“Lori hit his face on the conference room’s glass door,” she replies, looking with a mix of perplexity and worry at Lori.

“I’n bine!” His voice sounds muffled behind his hand.

“Grab some ice from the kitchen,” I instruct the receptionist. Then I move closer to Lori. I slide my arms around his waist and lift him up.

“Wha…?” He gasps. “Gabe, but ne down!” I ignore his futile protest and carry him inside the conference room and set him on the long table. He’s so much smaller than me, but his inner vitality, his lively spirit could fill the whole United Center.

I cradle his face in my hands, and at the touch, he jerks slightly while the prickling sensation running up and down my arms stops. “Let me take a look.” Hearing my voice, he tenses. Displeasure hits me hard, but I push it away. I tilt his head up as he tries to shake it, but I hold it still. “Move your hand, Lori. There’s a thin line between stubbornness and idiocy.”

He remains still for a second, then slowly lowers his palm down. His forehead and nose are red. There’s no blood, though.

I calmly study his moody brown eyes up close; they are watery and filled with pain. He’s not wearing his usual makeup, and his eyelashes appear auburn in color, but also gold and chestnut.

The receptionist returns with an ice pack before running to her desk to answer the ringing phones. I place it gently on thereddened skin. His thighs covered in fishnet stockings under a pair of white shorts are open, letting me step between them.

My sense of relief is overtaken by anger that I’m barely able to control.

“What were you thinking? You’re lucky the glass didn’t break. You could have hurt yourself badly.”

“I had a lot on my mind!” he retorts with a much higher level of irritation.

“What? What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Nothing,” he stubbornly replies.

“Tell me,” I insist.

“Why?”

Why indeed,Bez mockingly says.

“It could interfere with your work.”

Nice save, Gabe!

“No, it won’t.” Lori is frowning again as if something doesn’t quite add up.

Smart, Little Wasp.

“I call hitting a door with your face a big red flag,” I try to reason with him. I can feel the softness of his curls under my fingers, the smoothness of his skin. He didn’t push my hands away, nor tell me to go away.

“Aglassdoor.”

“A very visible glass door that you’ve used numerous times,” I counter.

“Stop provoking me.” He grabs the ice pack from my hand and yanks it away from his face. “You don’t want to see my resentful side.”

“I’ve seen it plenty. You’re a walking firecracker with sparks going off under your feet with every step you take.” I raise my eyebrow at him, daring him to disagree.

He narrows his brown eyes at me, now full of annoyance. Pushing a finger to my chest, he says, “Let’s get something straight here. My ducks are not in a row. They are…chilling near the pond. I suspect one of them is a pigeon in disguise hoping to score with one of them. But, I solve my own problems. Don’t need a knight in shining armor to come and bloody rescue me! Unless I’m being dosed it seems. So back off!”

I just keep staring at him, tightening my hand on his face and placing the other on his leg. Bez suddenly pushes me down to come out.

Fuck diplomacy!

“You’re keeping something from me. Don’t fucking like it, Little Wasp,” I unleash my anger.

Instead of fighting back, his eyes flicker acutely over my face. I can see the cogs whirring inside his head.