Page 6 of Regret Me Not
Oh geez. What a little hambone.
“Of course, Sir Knight,” Pierce returned, resigned to his fate. “Be careful of your unicorn horn, okay? I’d hate to see it broken or bent or anything.”
“Will do.”
Pierce made better time with the cane and the shoes, and his limp away from the field of battle had a little more dignity this time.
But he was not free from the wonderful world of social interaction—not just yet.
As he approached the back of his condo, he watched an older woman struggle to get her little foldable pull cart full of groceries through the back gate that led to the individual courtyard that was a feature of all the lower-level condos. The gates were tricky—they all had a really strong spring—and Pierce had been forbidden from even trying to wrestle his luggage inside, which was why Sasha and Marshall had done it.
But the elderly woman, dressed flamboyantly in bright magenta and sky blue, didn’t have a Sasha and a Marshall, and Pierce figured what the hell—how hard could it be to reach over and hold the gate open, right?
He reached out and pushed, and she hauled her dolly up over the concrete step and into the little patio.
“Thank you,” she said shortly.
“Anytime,” he told her, waiting patiently for her to clear the gate so he could lower his arm.
“You know, you shouldn’t spend too much time with that Lombard kid—he’s trouble.”
Pierce was surprised enough to let the gate slip out of his fingers, and he scrambled to keep it from crashing into the grumpy old hag and her absurdly stocked shopping cart. Seriously—she had five boxes of protein bars. If she didn’t have some laxatives stuffed in that thing, she’d be in a world of hurt.
“I’m sorry?” he asked, trying not to wince as he strained all the muscles he’d just loosened up in the hot tub.
“That Lombard kid. He’s—” She looked both ways, like somebody could hear her. “—you know. G-a-y. And he’s not quiet about it either! Last year he brought his”—she wrinkled her nose—“boyfriend to the condo, and they were holding hands and snuggling. Perfectly awful, if you ask me.”
Ugh.“I didn’t, you snotty bitch,” Pierce snapped, letting the gate close on her cart.
“Well, I never!”
“You should,” Pierce told her, hobbling away. “And while you’re at it, buy some laxatives—you’ll feel better. Jesus, lady, he’s a sweet kid. You really gotta gossip about him like that?”
He had to admit, he got a great deal of satisfaction hearing her swear at her cart and the gate and Pierce all together as he made it through the gate of his own apartment. If he was going to let his inner asshole reach out and touch people, telling that woman off was the way to go.
Besides.
He walked into his condo and leaned back against the door, letting some of the outrage seep from his body.
That sweet kid. Seriously—what had he done to deserve that old biddy and her bitchery? Pierce felt a surge of protectiveness swelling his chest. Yeah, the kid might make more advances, but Pierce was a grown-up. He didn’t have to give in. What mattered was Harold Justice Lombard the Fifth didn’t have to spend his mornings alone.
Pierce couldn’t do much. No job, no wife, no life, right?
But he could be a willing recipient of all that chirpy goodwill.
What could it hurt? Seriously. What could it possibly hurt?
Slippery Slopes
“I’M DYING!”Pierce complained under the R & B stylings of Jay-Z. For one thing, Jay-Z hadn’t been his thing in high school, but for another? He was sure if he did one more underwater leap, his stomach muscles would explode.
“You are not dying!” Hal laughed. “You just can’t think of anything better to do!”
“Ugh… if you were older than a minute—”
“I’d still be kicking your ass, old man. Now come on. Your injuries suck, I get it, but we want you to have mobility in a month!”
Pierce stopped dead and almost drowned, then resumed the exercise at a slightly saner pace. “What’s a month have to do with it?” he panted, underwater leaping for all he was worth.