“Rose?” Danny yells. “Rose?”
“I’m fine.” I chuckle, grimacing, my butt numb. “I’m fine.” I crawl up the end of the bed onto my knees, poking my head up. Brad’s chin is on his chest, and Danny’s trying with everything he has to crane his neck back and see me. “I’m fine.”
“Good,” he grunts, slumping down. “Now fix me, woman.” I snarl and poke him in his calf. “Fuck!”
“Mind your manners, Black,” I warn. “I’m your only hope.”
“Not true,” he mumbles sulkily with an edge of smugness too. “Mum will help me.”
“Don’t count on it.” I get to my feet.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Shut up, you’re annoying me.”
His head flies up, his eyes, or what I can see of them, enraged. “Rose,” he growls. “I’m warning you.”
“What are you gonna do?” I ask, sauntering around the bed to his side and getting my face up in his? “Chase me?”
Brad titters next to him, as does Beau at the end of the bed.
“Fuck!” James curses, pulling all attention his way again. He’s taking tentative steps toward us, and each time he places a foot down, he curses.
“Fuck”
Step.
“Fucker.”
Step.
“Fuck me.”
Step.
“Fucking hell.”
Step.
“Fuck it!”
Step.
Until he’s at the end of the bed and gingerly crawling on, flopping to his front at Danny’s and Brad’s feet on a grunt and one morefuckfor good measure.
I look at Beau, just as she looks at me, and quickly look away. But, in all seriousness... “Should I get Doc?” I ask.
“No, just rub me,” Danny sighs, settling.
“Beau,” James groans. “Please.”
“You two are pathetic,” Brad mutters.
“Aren’t you aching?” James asks, looking up at him at the top of the bed.
“Well, I don’t fucking know, do I?” Brad snaps, lifting his head from the pillow and directing a lethal glare down the bed to James. “I could be, but I can’t tell through the pain of being fuckingshot.”
“Pussy,” James mutters. “You’ll be fine in a few days.”