Grinding my jaw, I rumbled, "I doubt it. The joint was completely replaced after they tried pins that didn’t stick."
"So? They have problems with joint replacements all the time. Sometimes they’re outright rejected, and sometimes they’re just not aligned right. What if you’re in all this pain and it’s something that could be easily resolved? Or maybe you just need to have more surgery to fix what’s going on with it—"
"Savannah," I rumbled, "I know you mean well, but don’t."
She heaved a sigh. "Men." When she pulled her hand away, I grasped her fingers tightly in mine.
"Don’t."
"Don’t, what?" she retorted. "Have an opinion?"
"I didn’t say that."
"No? I fell down the stairs and twisted my wrist,slightly, and you’re all, ‘We’ll get you to a doctor if the injury doesn’t heal.’ But your knee looks like a fiber optic network of scars, and I can’t say anything?"
I rolled my eyes. "There’s a difference."
She shrugged. "If you say so."
"I do," I growled, and I tightened my fingers around hers even more when she tried to pull free of me.
"Let go," she snapped. "I’m pissed at you."
"You’re pissed at me? I’m the one who should be pissed," I retorted. "Look, just leave it alone. It sucks. That’s life."
"If you say so," she repeated.
"How can you be even more annoying when you’re not arguing with me?"
"It’s a gift," she sniped.
My cell buzzed in my pocket, and though my fingers stayed attached to hers, she jerked back as I reached for it, freeing herself as she began bustling around, picking up clothes and depositing them in drawers where there was space.
Partly relieved and partly surprised that she didn’t storm off back to the room she’d slept in last night, I answered the call. "What?"
"Is that any way to greet a long lost friend?"
"Wait a second," I said into the phone and, wincing at my stupidity in not checking the Caller ID, I leaned up on an elbow and asked Savannah, "Could you give me a few minutes?"
When she simply arched her brow at me, I rolled my eyes.
"You’re the one who wanted me in here," she told me sweetly.
I grunted, and because she was being difficult, was about to head out when I noticed her peeping under her lashes at me.
I didn’t have a clue what she was gaping at, but it was making her squirm.
No way was I about to cut that short.
"Apologies, Lucifer. How are you doing?"
"I could be better. I’m pregnant and I’m way too old for it, but what the hell? You only live once, don’t you?"
"Hopefully you don’t die twice."
"That’s true. Although I wouldn’t talk about my dying around any of my men. They’ll probably shoot you first then worry about killing an O’Donnelly later."
"Like any good husband," I drawled.