asked, assessing her.
She scowled at him. "Five-five."
He rolled his eyes, and his expression said, Yeah, right. She ground her teeth. She was five-five – almost. What did a tiny fraction of an inch matter?
"Amy, the woman he hurt, is a good three inches taller than you and probably outweighs you by almost thirty pounds. What made you think you could handle him?"
"I didn't," she admitted.
"Didn't what? Think? That was obvious."
I can't slug a cop, she thought. I can't slug a cop. She repeated that to herself several times. Finally she managed to say, in an admirably even tone, "I didn't think I could handle him."
"But you jumped him anyway."
She shrugged. "It was a moment of insanity."
"No argument there."
That did it. She stopped again. "Look, I've had it with your snide remarks. I stopped him from beating that woman to a pulp in front of her lads. Jumping him like that wasn't a smart thing to do, and I fully realize I could have been hurt. I'd do it again. Now carry your ass on down the street, because I don't want to walk with you."
"Tough," he said, and latched on to her arm again. She had to walk, or be dragged. Since he wouldn't let her walk home by herself, she picked up her pace. The sooner they parted company, the better.
"You in a hurry?" he asked, his grip on her arm reeling her back in and forcing her to match his more leisurely stride. "Yeah. I'm missing – " She tried to think what was on television, but drew a blank. "BooBoo's due to cough up a hair ball, and I want to be there."
"You like hair balls, huh?"
"They're more interesting than my present company," she said sweetly.
He grimaced. "Ouch."
They drew even with her house, and he had to release her. "Put ice on the knee so it won't bruise," he said. She nodded, took a few steps, then turned back to find him still standing at the end of her walk, watching her. "Thanks for getting a new muffler."
He started to say something sarcastic, she could see it in his expression, but then he shrugged and merely said, "You're welcome." He paused. "Thank you for my new trash can."
"You're welcome." They stared at each other for a moment longer, as if waiting to see which one would start the battle anew, but Jaine put an end to the standoff by turning around and going inside. She locked the door behind her and stood for a moment, looking at the cozy, already familiar, feels-like-home living room. BooBoo had been at the cushion again; more stuffing was strewn on the carpet. She sighed. "Forget the chocolate chip cookie," she said aloud. "This calls for ice cream."
CHAPTER SIX
Jaine woke up early the next morning, without benefit of clock or sun. The simple act of rolling over woke her, because every muscle in her body screamed in protest. Her ribs ached, her knee stung, her arms ached every time she moved them; even her butt was sore. She hadn't had this many aches and pains since the first time she went roller-skating.
Groaning, she eased into a sitting position and inched her legs over the side of the bed. If she felt this bad, she wondered how the old guys felt. They hadn't been punched, but the fall would have been rougher on them. Cold was better for sore muscles than heat was, but she didn't think she was brave enough to face a cold shower. She'd rather tackle a belligerent drunk any time than stand naked under a freezing blast of water. She compromised by showering in tepid water, then gradually turned the hot water completely off. Gradually working up to the cold water didn't help; she stood it for about two seconds, then climbed out of the shower much faster than she had climbed in.
Shivering, she quickly dried off and stepped into her long, blue, front-zip robe. She seldom bothered with it during the summer, but today it felt good.
Getting up early had one advantage: she got to wake up BooBoo, rather than the other way around.
He didn't take kindly to having his beauty rest disturbed. The disgruntled cat hissed at her, then stalked
She scowled at him. "Five-five."
He rolled his eyes, and his expression said, Yeah, right. She ground her teeth. She was five-five – almost. What did a tiny fraction of an inch matter?
"Amy, the woman he hurt, is a good three inches taller than you and probably outweighs you by almost thirty pounds. What made you think you could handle him?"
"I didn't," she admitted.
"Didn't what? Think? That was obvious."
I can't slug a cop, she thought. I can't slug a cop. She repeated that to herself several times. Finally she managed to say, in an admirably even tone, "I didn't think I could handle him."
"But you jumped him anyway."
She shrugged. "It was a moment of insanity."
"No argument there."
That did it. She stopped again. "Look, I've had it with your snide remarks. I stopped him from beating that woman to a pulp in front of her lads. Jumping him like that wasn't a smart thing to do, and I fully realize I could have been hurt. I'd do it again. Now carry your ass on down the street, because I don't want to walk with you."
"Tough," he said, and latched on to her arm again. She had to walk, or be dragged. Since he wouldn't let her walk home by herself, she picked up her pace. The sooner they parted company, the better.
"You in a hurry?" he asked, his grip on her arm reeling her back in and forcing her to match his more leisurely stride. "Yeah. I'm missing – " She tried to think what was on television, but drew a blank. "BooBoo's due to cough up a hair ball, and I want to be there."
"You like hair balls, huh?"
"They're more interesting than my present company," she said sweetly.
He grimaced. "Ouch."
They drew even with her house, and he had to release her. "Put ice on the knee so it won't bruise," he said. She nodded, took a few steps, then turned back to find him still standing at the end of her walk, watching her. "Thanks for getting a new muffler."
He started to say something sarcastic, she could see it in his expression, but then he shrugged and merely said, "You're welcome." He paused. "Thank you for my new trash can."
"You're welcome." They stared at each other for a moment longer, as if waiting to see which one would start the battle anew, but Jaine put an end to the standoff by turning around and going inside. She locked the door behind her and stood for a moment, looking at the cozy, already familiar, feels-like-home living room. BooBoo had been at the cushion again; more stuffing was strewn on the carpet. She sighed. "Forget the chocolate chip cookie," she said aloud. "This calls for ice cream."
CHAPTER SIX
Jaine woke up early the next morning, without benefit of clock or sun. The simple act of rolling over woke her, because every muscle in her body screamed in protest. Her ribs ached, her knee stung, her arms ached every time she moved them; even her butt was sore. She hadn't had this many aches and pains since the first time she went roller-skating.
Groaning, she eased into a sitting position and inched her legs over the side of the bed. If she felt this bad, she wondered how the old guys felt. They hadn't been punched, but the fall would have been rougher on them. Cold was better for sore muscles than heat was, but she didn't think she was brave enough to face a cold shower. She'd rather tackle a belligerent drunk any time than stand naked under a freezing blast of water. She compromised by showering in tepid water, then gradually turned the hot water completely off. Gradually working up to the cold water didn't help; she stood it for about two seconds, then climbed out of the shower much faster than she had climbed in.
Shivering, she quickly dried off and stepped into her long, blue, front-zip robe. She seldom bothered with it during the summer, but today it felt good.
Getting up early had one advantage: she got to wake up BooBoo, rather than the other way around.
He didn't take kindly to having his beauty rest disturbed. The disgruntled cat hissed at her, then stalked
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