Page 112 of A Little Broken

“Lately?” I pause. “Stalking my maid is pretty fun.”

“And readingThe Count of Monte Cristo,” she adds.

“And playing the guitar.”

“And working out,” she continues. “Excellent work, by the way. Although, the random bruises are an interesting addition.”

“You noticed, huh?”

Looking unimpressed, she shoves me playfully. “I mean, they’re kind of hard to miss, Pax.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah.” She quirks her brow, shamelessly checking me out. “They clash with your pretty face.”

I laugh even harder. “You think I’m pretty, huh?”

“I think you’re looking for me to stroke your ego, which—as we’ve previously discussed—is already big enough as it is, thankyou very much.” Pulling her hair over her shoulder, she adds, “But seriously. What’s with the bruises?”

It’s a good question, and honestly, I’m flattered she’s noticed. After meeting Jagger a couple weeks ago, we exchanged numbers and meet up a few times a week to train. He said it was so I wouldn’t embarrass the family for giving me a slot. Even though I’m pretty sure he’s going easy on me, I’ve appreciated the extra help. But the bruises? Not so much.

“I’ve, uh,” I scratch my temple, “I’ve been sparring with a few buddies lately.”

“Sparring?” She digs her heels into the sand. “As in, fighting?”

I nod.

“Well, damn.” Biting her bottom lip, she scans me up and down with newfound appreciation. “That’s hot.”

A rumble of amusement escapes me. “Glad I have your approval.”

“Any other hobbies?” she asks, surprising me with her interest.

“I like to travel,” I offer.

“Yeah? Me, too. What’s your favorite place you’ve ever been to?”

“Croatia, probably, but Thailand was pretty sweet, too.”

“I’ve been to Thailand!” Tatum gushes. She shoves me playfully. “Did you do the fish pedicure thing? Where you stick your feet in the water and the baby fish eat all the dead skin off?”

My stomach rolls at the thought. “Gross.”

“Yeah, but it left my skin so smooth, you wouldn’t even believe it.”

“Your skin is already pretty damn smooth, Birthday Girl.”

A soft pink tinges her cheeks, and her attention drops to the sand beneath her feet. “I think you’re being too kind.”

“And I think— Fuck! Shit!” I jump up and down, my foot burning with a vengeance.

Joining my meltdown, Tatum drops the last of her bagel in the sand and jolts back, staring as I lose my ever-loving shit.

“What’s wrong?” she screeches. “What happened?”

Balancing on one leg I lift my foot into the air, finding the skin on the bottom of it hot, red, and angry. “Jellyfish. I stepped on a?—”

“Jellyfish!” She flaps her hand behind us toward a translucent blob on the sand. “There’s a jellyfish!”

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