Page 22 of House of Payne

I instinctively reach out to stop her, but I don’t get the chance before she falls to the floor with a thud. I mutter a curse. It’s becoming increasingly clear why this place is struggling financially. The business and its employees are a mess.

I don’t dwell on the fact when London groans. There’s blood coming from a cut on her knee and bruises forming on her arms where she tried to catch herself from falling. The scene hardly bothers me. I’ve seen much worse. It looks like she fell straight on the glass.

This is far from what I expected when I came here.

Against my better judgment, I offer her my hand. She stares at it for a moment, brown eyes peeking up at me from under long lashes and warming as she takes it. I’m pleasantly surprised by the sensation of her skin against mine. It’s warm, soft, and rather inviting.

“Sorry,” she mumbles as I help her up. “This usually doesn’t happen. I don’t know how I tripped. I just…” she looks down. “I’m sorry about your shoes. I’ll get something to help clean this up.”

“I doubt you have anything to fix these.” I look at them, knowing they are stained, and this will be my last time wearing them. “How about youjust focus on that knee?”

She must have cut herself badly from the amount of blood oozing from her.

London looks down and gasps as if she’s just now noticing it. “Wow, okay.” She breathes in shakily and exhales, eyes darting forward, and her face flushing. She looks horrible.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Oh, nothing.”

I raise my eyebrows. I despise being lied to. “Want to try that again?”

My words seem to shock her, but they force her to speak up. “I just…” she pauses, and her breathing noticeably changes. “I don’t like the sight of blood.”

She looks about to faint.

“Surprising.”

She’s a mess.A beautiful mess.

“Does it hurt?” It shouldn’t matter to me, but something about this girl has captured my attention, at least enough for me to make sure she’s not bleeding all over the floors when I leave.

I grab her shoulders and sit her on the table, her eyes widening at the way I manhandle her.

“Oh, I can’t sit here. What if someone…?”

“Comes in?” I cut her off. I’ll likely be the only customer all day.

“But still…”

I ignore her, gripping her leg gently in my hands and examining it as has been done to me so many times. “It looks like there’s some glass in there.”

She bites the inside of her cheek to calm herself, keeping her gaze on me rather than the cut. “It stings.”

“I would expect it to. Where’s your first-aid kit?”

“Oh, you don’t have to. I can just…”

“Shut up and answer my question.”

She furrows her eyebrows. “Don’t talk to me like that.”

“Or what? You’ll get up and walk away?”

London looks like she wants to make a smart remark, staring hard at me before pointing to the counter in front of the store where the cash register is. “It’s behind there.” She’s scowling, and I resist the urge to take her over my knee and give her something to be mad about.

I cross over to the counter, find the first-aid kit, and then go back to her.

I open the kit and set it beside her. I take out the tweezers first and gently remove the piece of glass, ignoring her winces and groans. I often forget how delicate women can be.