Paris Is Always a Good Idea - Jenn McKinlay Page 0,95
under his left eye. Jason staggered back, and Jean Claude jumped him, tackling him to the hard ground. The two men rolled as they tried to land punches and kicks, grunting and swearing as they went.
“I came in extra early to start the bread,” Zoe said. “I wasn’t expecting a show.”
“They’re being idiots,” I said.
Zoe nodded. “I’ll see if I have something to cool their fire.” She hurried toward the locked café, leaving me to monitor the morons.
They grappled, they grunted, and I heard someone’s clothing tear. Enough!
“Stop! Stop it right now!” I demanded.
“Here.” I turned to see Zoe hurrying back with a pitcher of water in her hands. I grabbed it from her and tossed the contents on top of the two men, jumping back as they broke apart, sputtering, dripping, and cursing.
Jason shoved Jean Claude away from him with a look of disgust and rolled to standing. He was filthy. His shirt was ripped, and his eye was beginning to swell. Jean Claude staggered to his feet. He was covered in blood and dirt. He looked like he had officially gotten his ass kicked.
Given what he had been planning for me earlier, I did not feel one bit of sympathy for him. Of course I didn’t feel any sympathy for Jason either. He’d had no right to attack Jean Claude like he had. I didn’t need him to defend me.
I handed Jean Claude the dish towel Zoe stuffed into my hand. “Go home, Jean Claude. I have nothing to say to you now or ever.”
“But, mon chou—” he protested, but I held up my hand in a stop gesture.
“Goodbye,” I said.
He stared at me for a moment before he turned away, looking utterly defeated.
“And good riddance,” Jason added.
I grabbed him by the arm and spun him around to face me. “What were you thinking, getting into a brawl when we are hours away from the biggest meeting of our collective careers?”
“He had it coming,” Jason protested. I would have continued to argue, but Zoe joined us with a cloth full of ice.
“It’s best if you go upstairs,” she said. She looked at Jason in sympathy. “Blood on the sidewalk is bad for business.”
“Thanks. Sorry,” he said. He put the ice on his eye with a grimace.
“What can you do when the heart is involved and the passions are aroused?” Zoe said with a shrug.
I felt my face get hot. The introvert inside me hated that there had been such a public scene, and it was so unnecessary, as there had been no heart involved, just stupidity.
“Keys,” I said and held out my hand to Jason.
Jason took his apartment key out of his pocket and put it in my hand. I led the way back into the building and up the stairs. I passed my apartment and unlocked the door to his place. It was laid out exactly like mine, so I headed to the tiny bathroom while he went to the couch.
I grabbed a hand towel and soaked it with hot water and a little soap. When I got back to the living room, he had his head tipped back on the couch with the cloth of ice on his eye. His knuckles were cut up, and he had blood splatter on his shirt, which was done for.
Without a word, I tended his hands. Once the blood was cleaned off, he wasn’t as banged up as I’d feared. This did nothing to calm me down. I was so furious with him for getting into a fight, I was practically pulsing with anger.
Jason watched me out of his one good eye. “What’s eating you, Martin?”
“Nothing.” My voice sounded like the crack of a whip.
“Yeah, when a woman says ‘nothing’ like that, it’s not nothing,” he said. “Out with it.”
As if he had popped my bubble of calm with a pin, I found myself exploding on him. “Of all the stupid, boneheaded, ridiculous displays of idiocy that I have ever watched from you over the years, that episode downstairs was the absolute limit. What the hell were you thinking?”
“Um, I was thinking that guy tried to use you, and I was going to rearrange his face for it,” he said.
“Humph,” I huffed. I was not flattered. I was not impressed. I was livid. I stormed out of the living room to rinse out the towel. I returned in a moment and lifted the ice pack off his eye to assess the damage and clean the scrapes on his face.