“I can make one.” She hoped. She’d never actually tried but there had to be a recipe she could follow. “But I don’t see the point of making it now. The restaurant doesn’t open for another few weeks.”
“The point is to make sure you can make it. No use putting it on the menu if it tastes like shit.”
She rolled her eyes. Renard thought everything she made would be shit. Until he tasted it. Then the best she ever got from him was an “it’s okay.” Last night she’d had a dream where he’d asked her to taste one of his dishes. She’d turned to him and told him it was “okay.” Then she’d run like hell.
Jamie let out a delighted cry as he played with his favorite toy, an old stuffed elephant, and she smiled. Kind of hard to run like hell with two infants in tow.
“All right, I’ll make the cake.”
He didn’t reply. As though he’d never considered she’d do anything else.
A few hours later she was cursing that bastard. The cake wasn’t working, her back was aching, and she’d had to stop several times to soothe the boys, who were both restless today.
Great. Just great.
“Doesn’t look like any sort of strawberry-lemon cake I’ve ever eaten before.” Renard gave her cake a disparaging look.
She glared up at him. “I’m getting there.”
“Could have fooled me.”
She moved away to grab a cold soda out of the fridge. She needed a break. She tried to twist off the top. God damn it, why couldn’t Saxon stock cans like everyone else? Instead, he had these fancy sodas in glass bottles. Why did they make these things so hard to get into? Caleb let out a cry as she reached for a knife to pry the top open. The knife slipped and sliced into the side of her hand. With a cry, she dropped the bottle and the glass shattered.
Fuck. Shit.
She held the cries inside through sheer force of will, even as she doubled over in pain, holding her hand close to her chest as though that would ease the agony.
“Hell! What the fuck did you do that for?”
“Well, I didn’t do it on fucking purpose!” she spat back at Renard, pushed beyond endurance. “The knife fucking slipped.”
There was silence. Even Caleb had stopped making noise, as though shocked by the tone of her voice. Jesus, get it together, Aspen. She sucked in a breath then cried out as Renard wrapped her bleeding hand in a clean towel.
“Hold it up,” he snapped at her, pushing her hand up into the air.
She gritted her teeth against the pain. The boys started crying, big fat tears running down their faces. Shit. She had to get herself together.
“It’s okay, darlings. Mommy’s all right. It’s just a little cut. Nothing to cry about.”
“Looked like more than a little cut to me,” Renard muttered, leading her over to a chair. He pulled it out and pushed forcefully on her shoulders until she sat.
“I’m trying to reassure them,” she told him.
He glanced over at the boys and she thought he was going to argue. Then he nodded. “Children should be protected.” He turned to the boys. “Mommy’s going to be fine. Stop your crying now.”
She shook her head. She was surrounded by men who seemed to think that everyone else would just jump to do their bidding. Including six-month-old boys.
“They’re not just going to . . .” she trailed off as she realized they had stopped crying. She gave both boys a look. “We’re going to have a chat after—” Drat. What the hell was she going to do? She’d seen the gash in her hand and it didn’t look good. What if it was so bad she couldn’t work?
Fuck. Fuck.
“I’m going to call Saxon.”
“No, wait, don’t!” But Renard ignored her, picking up the landline to call the main house.
Crap.
The last thing she wanted was to create more work for Saxon. He didn’t need her problems on top of everything else.
“Well tell him to get off the fucking phone and get over here,” Renard snapped. “Hey! Hey!”
She tensed waiting for him to slam the phone down, but he laid it gently in the cradle before turning to her.
“Bastard hung up on me.”
“Language,” she reprimanded then wished she hadn’t said a thing as his eyebrow rose.
“Just heard worse coming out of your mouth, little girl.”
“Extenuating circumstances,” she told him. She took shallow breaths as she tried to ignore the agonizing burn in her hand. “Saxon’s busy?”
“So that bas—” he looked over at the boys, “boring old fart, Thomas, claims. Then he hung up on me.”
Thomas had balls of steel, that was for sure.
“I’m going to walk on up there and find him myself.”
“No, wait, I’ll go.” She forced herself to stand, trying to convince herself that her legs weren’t going to collapse beneath her.
Renard scowled at her. “You can’t go. You’re so pale you’re translucent.”
“I’m fine,” she told him. “Better I go than you. Thomas won’t even open the door for you.”
“Oh, he will.” His face looked determined. “I’ll make sure of that.”
“Someone needs to stay with the boys. Will you call Gwen and ask her to come take care of them?”
She hated leaving them like this. And she wasn’t at all sure about leaving Renard with them. Still, Gwen lived next door, it wouldn’t take her long to come over and get them. Meanwhile, she would . . . shit. She didn’t know. Maybe she could drive herself to the doctor.
“I’d take you to the doc myself but doctors and I don’t mix well,” Renard muttered, looking from her to the boys. “I’ll just pick them up and walk you to—”
She moved as quickly as she could towards the door, knowing it would take him a bit to organize things. “I’m fine. Call Gwen. Thank you.”
She walked out the door as he called after her, irritation filling his voice. She leaned against the side of the building as a dizzy spell washed over her. Moving that quickly had been a bad idea. In fact, moving at all was pretty stupid.
Idiot.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” She glanced over to find Renard standing next to her, a frown on his face and a boy held securely in each arm.
“Language.” She scowled back. “I told you to wait here.”
“Could tell you had no intention of finding Saxon, even if you could make it that far on your own. And if you were mine, you’d be in a world of trouble for first lying to me then trying to take care of this on your own.”
“Good thing I’m not yours then.”
“Good for me. Not so good for you since Saxon ain’t going to be pleased.” He glanced over her shoulder. She turned, seeing Gwen walk briskly towards them.
“Gwen, sorry to call on you at such short notice,” she told the older woman.
“Nonsense,” the woman said, reaching for Caleb, who was holding his arms out to her. “You know I love any excuse to get my hands on these two.” Gwen looked at her hand, where blood was starting to seep through the towel. “You need to get to the medical clinic. Are you taking her?” she asked Renard.
“Hell, no, I’m taking her to Saxon.”
“Good. He’ll take care of her.”
“Put me down!”
Aspen’s angry words shocked him into glancing up from the computer. Even through the thick door it was easy to make out the irritation in her voice.
“No,” Renard snapped back. “Every time I put you down you try to take off on me. Now stop wriggling before I throw you over my shoulder and spank your ass.”
He stood, protectiveness washing through him. Like hell Renard would touch her ass. He wasn’t getting his hands on Aspen.
Mine.
Had he ever been this possessive of someone before? Not that he could recall. He was just rounding his desk when the door slammed open and Renard walked in, carrying a wriggling Aspen in his arms. Her left hand was wrapped in a towel covered in blood. His heart stopped for a second before he quickl
y regained his equilibrium.
“What’s going on? What happened?”
As he spoke Aspen immediately stopped wriggling around. She turned to him, her face paler than normal, her mouth bracketed in lines of pain.
“Cut her hand with a knife,” Renard told him, not setting her down. “You need to take her to the doctor, it’s gonna need stitches.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“Tried. Your bulldog said you were busy. Apparently, you’re too important to answer the phone.”
He ground his teeth together. He’d just gotten off the phone; however, it wasn’t anything that couldn’t have been interrupted. He was going to have to make it clear to Thomas that when it came to Aspen, nothing was more important.
“Here, give her to me,” Saxon told him. “Where are the boys?”
“Gwen is with them,” Aspen replied in a tight voice. “And I can walk.”
Renard snorted. “Wouldn’t fall for that. When she walks she tries to run off.”
What?
He took her slight weight from Renard.
“That’s why I’m carrying her. She told me she was going to make her way up here. Could tell she was lying. So I brought her up myself to make certain she didn’t run off on her own. I’d take her but, you know, me and docs.”
“I know.” The ex-marine had had a bad experience with the medical profession.
He stared down into Aspen’s face. “Why would you lie to Renard?”
“You’re busy. You don’t need to deal with this. I can drive myself to the doctor.”
His temper stirred, and he pushed it down. She was used to dealing with things on her own, it was no wonder she thought she’d take care of this alone. Still, he thought he’d made some headway into getting her to trust him, to lean on him. He turned to Thomas, who was standing on the other side of the door.
“Thomas, take messages and tell people I’ll get back to them later tonight. I’m taking Aspen to the doctor.”
He walked past Renard then Thomas. “Certainly, sir.”
“I really don’t need you to take me. I’ll be fine by myself.”
“She’s dizzy. She barely made it out the kitchen door before she had to stop,” Renard said cheerfully as he followed them. “You really need to address this habit she has of trying to do everything herself.”
“Thank you, Renard, for the advice,” he said sardonically.
Renard just grunted and, when they walked outside, headed towards the restaurant. “Guess I’ll just go clean up your mess.” He turned back to her. “This doesn’t get you out of making that cake.”
Saxon just shook his head and then set her on her feet next to his Jeep, which was parked out in front. He leaned her against the side of the vehicle and stood close in case she showed signs of dizziness.
“I’m fine. Really. It’s just a little cut.”
“A little cut, huh?” He opened the passenger seat, then grabbing her by the waist, lifted her up. She let out a squeal of surprise as he settled her into the seat. He grabbed the belt, pulling it across her and securing it. “Keep your hand up. I can see the blood seeping through the towel. And Renard, for all his dramatics, never overreacts. If he says you need stitches then you do.”
He quickly closed the door then ran around to the driver’s side. Annoyance warred with worry as he drove down the driveway. He turned to look at her briefly. She was growing paler, her pain obvious. “I cannot believe you thought you’d take care of this on your own. Were you going to drive yourself to the doctor?”
She bit her lower lip. “Yeah. I guess.”
“You guess?” What was she thinking? “I’m pretty certain I made it clear that if something happened to you or the boys you were to call me first. Rules, remember?”
“Renard did call you, you were busy.”
He slammed the palm of his hand against the steering wheel, making her jump.
Easy.
“If you don’t get through the first time then you try again. And why didn’t one of you call my cell?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t think about it.”
He pulled into the parking lot of the medical center. Haven didn’t have a hospital, they were too small for that, but the local doctor could take care of this. And Saxon preferred to use him anyway.
He shifted towards her, grabbed her chin and turned her face to his. “You will think about it next time. I’ll see to that.”
Her mouth dropped open, probably due to the threat in his voice.
“What does that mean?”
“It means that after you’re patched up and feeling better you and I are going to have a chat and discuss what it means to follow rules.”
Her gaze narrowed. “How come I get the feeling that by chat you don’t actually mean talk?”
“Oh, I intend to talk. It’s just that most of that talking will be done in between when my hand lands on your ass.”
And, oh, it was going to feel so, so good.
“Take a seat here, pet.” Saxon helped her sit down in a chair in the waiting room, handling her like she was a ninety-year-old woman who’d taken a tumble down the stairs. She wasn’t feeling that bad. Well, not quite. But not far off either. She felt a bit nauseous and she had to admit she wasn’t feeling steady.
He crouched in front of her and tilted her chin so she was looking up at him.
“I’m okay,” she told him, trying to reassure him.
He ran a finger down her cheek. “Not yet. But you will be. I’ll go sort out the paperwork. Stay put.”
Like she’d dare do anything else. Her lips twisted into a smile. But as soon as he disappeared, that feeling of reassurance faded. She took a shuddering breath in. She was being silly.
She glanced around the waiting room. There were just a handful of people here. A couple of older ladies in the seats in front of her and a mother with two young children in the corner by the kids’ toys.
“Aspen? What happened?” She glanced up as Hannah walked up and sat in the seat next to her. “Oh, honey, what did you do?”
Ridiculously, she found herself blinking back tears. The genuine upset and concern in the other woman’s voice shook her.
“Just sliced my hand with a knife.”
“Oh, no.” Hannah looked at her with dismay. “You poor thing. The doc should be able to see you soon.”
She managed a tremulous smile. “Thanks. Is there paperwork for me to fill out?”
“Mast—um, Saxon is taking care of it.”
Her eyebrows rose. “You were going to call him Master, weren’t you?”
Had he and Hannah been together before? Jealousy stirred in her gut.
Hannah’s cheeks blushed red. “Sorry. He always flusters me. I shouldn’t let it happen. I’m a medical receptionist. I should be calm and collected. But there is just something about him that brings my submissive side to the forefront.”
She looked over to where she could see Saxon at the front desk, filling out paperwork. She should go help him. But this was a chance to learn more about him.
“Have you and he . . .?”
Hannah’s eyes widened and she went a little pale. “Me and Saxon? Are you insane?”
“What? Is there something I should know about him? Something bad?”
“Huh? What? No of course not. Just because he’s a Dominant doesn’t mean he’s abusive.” There was a tight note to Hannah’s voice, and she worried she’d upset her.
“I didn’t mean that,” she said quickly. “Not at all. In fact, I’m kind of interested in that BDSM stuff.”
Hannah looked from her to Saxon. “And you’d like Saxon to teach you about it?”
It was her turn to blush. “Something like that.”
Hannah reached over to take her good hand. “Have you done anything together?”
She nodded. “A little. He said I’m submissive. He offered to show me what that meant. To take me to the club.”
“That’s quite an offer. Saxon is gorgeous
and intimidating and sometimes downright scary. But he’d never hurt you physically. Emotionally, on the other hand . . .”
Her stomach dropped. “I know.”
“Just be careful not to fall for him, okay? Let him show you the ropes, for sure. But know it won’t go any further. I don’t think he’s looking for forever after. Nobody knows much about his past except for Jake, and he’s not talking. That man never gossips. Damn shame because he knows all the town’s secrets.” Hannah smiled at her, trying to lighten the mood.
“Thanks, Hannah.”
“I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry about the other day, too. When Saxon asked me about giving you a ride, I just—”
“It’s okay, you were honest. I shouldn’t have told a lie like that.”
“Not a good idea, especially with a Dom like Saxon. He seems to have a sixth sense for lies and half-truths.”
“Hannah, thank you for waiting with Aspen. I appreciate it.”
Both Aspen and Hannah looked up.
“You’re welcome.” Hannah jumped to her feet then turned to smile down at Aspen. “If you need anything, let me know. I’m free for babysitting or cooking or cleaning anytime.”
The offer filled her with amazement and she smiled back. Maybe she needed to trust more. To open herself up and let people in. Not everyone would let her down.
She was in a state of shock.
She stared down at the prescription for pain killers in her hand, not even seeing what was written there.
Seven days. A whole week until she could get her stitches out. And during that time, she wasn’t to do any heavy lifting and she was to keep the area as dry as possible, which meant she’d have to do some creative showering. How was she going to work?
“I’ll get Thomas to fill the script. You need to get home and keep that hand up.”
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I’ve let you down.” It was like a pot boiling inside her stomach, on the brink of spilling over and letting loose all her worries and insecurities.
“What are you talking about? How could you have let me down?”
Saxon's Soul (Haven, Texas Book 5) Page 14
