"No," Joe said.
Archer slid an arm around her. "He's going to be fine, I promise. Just a little scratch. I want you to wait outside-"
"I need to stay here."
"Archer," Lucas said again.
Archer nodded and spoke directly to Molly. "What you need, what we all need, is that bottle of Scotch you keep in your bottom drawer. Can you get that for me?"
Molly looked at Joe and he managed to give her a smile and a nod. She then looked at Lucas.
No words were exchanged, just another odd, inexplicable beat. Finally, Molly let out a breath and vanished.
Lucas stopped stitching to watch her go.
"Hey," Joe said. "Are you staring at my sister's ass?"
Lucas blinked. "What? No."
"Yes, you were."
"Then why did you ask?"
"There's no way in hell that Lucas is dumb enough to stare at my office manager and your sister's ass," Archer said. "Right, Lucas?"
Since this wasn't really a question and Lucas clearly knew it, he nodded and got back to stitching.
It took twelve stitches, and when Lucas was done he cracked the cold pack from the box and handed it over. Joe held it to his throbbing side and hoped it would keep the swelling down. He had plans for the night.
"You want to tell me what the fuck happened back there?" Archer asked.
Joe shrugged. Or started to but then stilled because shrugging hurt like a son of a bitch. "What happened was that we got the job done."
Archer shook his head. "I haven't seen anyone get the drop on you like that in years."
Joe could deny it, but Archer was right. He'd been distracted and had lost his focus long enough that the guy was not only able to pull a weapon on him but actually do some damage with it. He couldn't even remember the last time that had gone down.
Archer just looked at him for a long moment. "Remember when someone got the drop on me and I was shot?"
"Last year, yeah," Joe said. "I remember distinctly because Elle nearly killed us all for letting you get hurt."
"My mind wasn't on the job. How many times has that happened?"
"Never," Joe said.
Archer nodded and waited for Joe to catch up.
"Shit," Joe said. "You think I screwed up because my mind was on Kylie?"
"There he is," Lucas said. "I was starting to worry he had a concussion."
Joe blew out a breath. "Shit," he said again.
Archer snorted. "Man, Elle so called this. I should never have bet her. You just cost me a hundred bucks."
Reyes started sing "Another One Bites the Dust" beneath his breath.
Lucas was looking horrified at the thought of Joe letting his concentration down over a woman. "Aw, man. You should've just let the guy stab you in the gut. It would've been less painful."
Joe ignored this and looked at Archer. "It won't happen again."
"I'm counting on that being true," Archer said. "I assume you're aware that you broke at least two of his ribs after he got his knife in you."
And Joe would've broken the rest if Lucas hadn't pulled him away from the guy. "He pissed me off."
Archer gave a rare full smile. "Go to bed, Lover Boy. To sleep."
Smart idea. But as already proven when it came to Kylie, Joe wasn't all that smart. Which is why he slid into his truck and didn't drive home.
He drove to Kylie's.
He parked and lifted his shirt to get a look at his side. The swelling was actually minimal and Lucas's small, neat row of stitches wasn't readily visible-if he kept his shirt on, that is. He leaned his head back and drew in a long breath, then slowly, purposely let it out again.
It was one in the morning and he was exhausted. And for once, he didn't have a plan A. Or B. Or any plan at all. Maybe he'd just stay right here and stare at her place like a lovelorn teenager for the rest of the night.
But passive wasn't on his list of character traits so he got out of his truck and told himself it was okay to show up this late because her lights were on.
Kylie opened the front door to his knock. She was a little sweaty and breathless, wearing a sports bra and capri leggings, one in Day-Glo yellow, the other in Day-Glo pink, blinding him. "Hey. Whatcha doing?"
"That's my question to you," he said.
"Couldn't sleep." She leaned on the door, clearly out of breath.
"So you were . . . handling your own business?" he asked hopefully. "Maybe with your light saber?"
She rolled her eyes. "Why do guys always immediately go there?"
"Because we're all just hopeful sex addicts looking for our next fix." He nudged her aside and let himself in. That was when he saw the yoga mat on the floor in front of the TV, which was paused midshow, giving him his first laugh all day. "Golden Girls?"
"It's the only thing I haven't marathoned yet." She turned off the TV and looked him over, her smile fading a little bit. "You okay? You look a little singed around the edges."
"Work," he said and scrubbed a hand down his face. "It was a long night."
"Everyone else okay?"
"Yeah. Well, maybe not the bad guy. He wasn't feeling like going to jail."
She was wide-eyed. "So he . . . ?"
"Tried to blow me and Lucas up with a hand grenade. But all he got was a Dumpster. Oh, and himself."
"Oh my God," she said, looking horrified.
"Like I said, it was an interesting night."
Her eyes narrowed and she stepped closer, putting her hands on him, looking at his shirt. "Is that . . . blood?"
He looked down at his front. His black T-shirt had stuck to him where he'd bled like a stuck pig. Shit. "It's nothing, just a scratch."
Going pale, she began pushing up his shirt.
"Really," he said. "All I needed was a Band-Aid, but-"
"Off," she demanded, and who was he to argue with a bossy woman who wanted his clothes off?
He carefully slid his arm through and pulled the shirt over his head. In the next minute, he found himself being pushed to sit in a kitchen chair with a warm, sexy woman bent over him. "Oh my God, how many stitches?"
"Not too many," he said.
"You went to the ER and they left you all covered in blood like this?"
Before he could answer, she was cleaning the blood off and fussing over him.
"Sloppy nursing," she said.
"Yeah, well, Lucas isn't exactly gentle and nurturing."
Her head snapped up. "Lucas? Your coworker Lucas? He stitched you up?"
"Good as new."
She was looking at him like she'd grown a second head. "What's wrong with you? What's wrong with a hospital?"
"Don't like them," he said. "But hey, Lucas was a medic. He's always stitching one of us up. He's good."
She shook her head, muttering something to herself about stubborn alphas. Their gazes met, and as if she could read his mind about why exactly he didn't like hospitals, her eyes suddenly softened as she continued cleaning him up.
The kitchen was warm, and so were her hands, and he was tired. So tired. Leaning back in the chair, he closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of her standing so close, her warm breath on his neck, the scent of her, which his body now responded to like Pavlov's dogs.
When she was finished, she bent low and kissed his skin just above the white gauze holding him together. He opened his eyes and met hers.
"Better?" she asked.
He put his hand over hers. "Much."
"So now what?" she asked quietly. "What do you need right now?"
That was easy. "You."
Her breath caught. "Okay. Come on then." She held out a hand and led him to her bed. And maybe, a part of him hoped, into her heart, as well.
Chapter 23
HoustonWeHaveAProblem
The next night was Molly's birthday party at O'Riley's. Kylie was happy to take a night off from thinking about her life to celebrate. Finn and Sean decorated the pub, something they did for everyone's birthday, which meant they all did a lot of celebrating.
Tonight's Wild West theme was Kylie's favorite. It wasn't much of a stretch for the pub, which had whiskey barrel tables and a bar crafted from repurposed longhouse-style doors. Adding to the effect were the hanging brass lantern lights and the horse-chewed fence baseboards.
Everyone dressed the part. The girls had met up at lunch and hit their favorite costume shop around the corner. Kylie hadn't had the time so she'd just added a hat and boots to her jeans and plaid button-down, and called it good.
The birthday girl was dressed to the hilt as a lady of the night and was the center of attention, which she seemed to enjoy.
"You beat me to that one," Tina said about Molly's costume. Tina was wearing something that was probably supposed to be a lady of the night but instead more resembled Little Bo Peep-if Little Bo Peep had been six feet tall, mahogany-skinned, and gorgeous. "I'm trying not to hate you."
"Hey, I'm not getting any, okay?" Molly said, adjusting her corset. "I thought I'd up my game tonight."