Billionaires Dollar Series

“You needed stitches?”

“Just three.”

I push away from my desk, reaching for my jacket. “Which hospital are you at?”

“You don’t have to come.”

“Which hospital?”

She sighs again, telling me. “I’m sorry, is all. I know I asked if I could cook at yours after work, to practice my recipes, but now I’m free already.”

“You’re seriously planning on working after this?”

“The culinary institute finals are in five days!”

“But you’re hurt,” I tell her, like I’m talking to my nieces. I’m already in the elevator on my way down.

“It barely hurts at all.”

“Then why do you sound pissed?”

A pause. “I’ll explain when you get here.”

It takes me no time at all to drive over to the hospital, but I don’t smile haplessly at other drivers anymore.

She needed stitches.

Her friend is the one that meets me in the corridor, the face vaguely familiar from the drinks I’d joined her co-workers for. Alma, I think her name is.

“Hey,” she tells me. “Maddie is in the waiting room-they’re finalizing her prescription. I have to get back to work.”

“Thanks for driving her up.”

“Of course.” Alma gives me a speculative look, one that turns her frown into a smile. “I’ll leave you two to it.”

The side of Maddie’s right hand is wrapped in gauze, making it nearly double its usual size. She smiles when she sees me, but it’s a bit sheepish. “You came?”

“I said I would. Does it hurt?”

“Not particularly.” Her dark hair is tied back in a professional braid, a few strands escaping to curl around her face. “They gave me painkillers.”

“What happened?” And because I can’t resist. “I thought I told you to be careful with knives.”

She huffs out a frustrated breath. “I was careful. I’m always careful.”

“The knife didn’t get the message.”

“Clearly not.” Maddie looks down at her injured hand like it’s grievously offended her. “I have less than a week until the finals. Less than a week!”

“Can you still compete?”

The look she shoots me makes it clear I’m an idiot for asking. “It’s just a scratch. I’ll just have to wrap it tightly.”

Her shoulders are tense, just like the line of her mouth. I drape my arm around her shoulders. “But you’re okay?”

“Yes, I’m okay.” She relaxes against my side. Her hair smells good, like soap and shampoo and something herb-like from the kitchens. “Today was such a mess.”

“It was?”

“From start to finish.”

“Not from start,” I say. “The morning was very enjoyable.”

She snorts softly, her uninjured hand resting on my thigh. “The morning was very enjoyable,” she agrees. “So I take back my statement. Everything after I came to work was a mess.”

A nurse turns the corner to the waiting room and stops when she sees us. She smiles. “Well, here’s your prescription, Miss Bell.”

“Thank you,” Maddie says. “And I’m to take these…?”

“The dosage is on the bottle.” The nurse puts her hands in her pockets, nodding to the both of us. “It’s great to see that you have someone ready to take you home. You be careful now, and follow the doctor’s orders.”

“I will,” Maddie says.

We head down the corridor, my arm still around her. “Did you just lie to a registered nurse?”

“Why would you think that?”

“I’m assuming the doctor’s orders don’t involve working in the coming days, and I’m assuming you’re planning to.”

“You shouldn’t assume,” Maddie says archly. “It makes an ass out of you and me.”

I chuckle. “It’s been years since I last heard that one.”

“I’m not planning on going back to work… today, at least.”

“You know, this amount of gauze really makes it look worse than it is. It looks like I’ve been attacked by a bear.”

“It looks like you’ve tried to make yourself one-handed,” I say. “Look, I admire the dedication to the pirate jokes, but I like you better without hooks.”

Her smile warms up her face, transforming it from annoyed and combative to luminous in an instant. It’s not fair for someone’s smile to be that…captivating. She shouldn’t be allowed to wield that thing without a license. Think of all the traffic incidents she could cause by blasting it recklessly.

“You’re ridiculous,” she tells me.

I lean my nose into her hair, unable to resist. “And you’re staying in for the rest of the evening. How about you let me cook for a change?”

She gives a dramatic shiver. “Sounds dangerous.”

“See what I’m doing right now?” I say, brandishing her fancy chef’s knife and attempting to slice a tomato. “I’m going to julienne these.”