4
" You want more water, Aisling? You need more water, yes? I saw you use the water I bring you earlier. It is good. Here is more water. I bring it just for you." Zaccheo materialized at my elbow with a tray full of pitchers of ice water. He set them on the table, his eyes, which I can only describe as moony, watching me besottedly the entire time.
"Thanks, Zaccheo. I think five pitchers is my limit."
"Water is good. Very good for the womens. My mother, she tells me this. Very good for their peepees, yes? Makes no trouble there. I go now. You talk. You drink water."
He zipped off to his serving station, a happy smile on bis face. I glanced at Nora. "He's very attentive."
"Yes, I can see that. And evidently well trained by his mother to anticipate a woman's need of water to avoid urinary tract infections. Commendable, that. "
― Katie MacAlister , Fire Me Up (Aisling Grey #2)
6
" Hey!" I yelled, suddenly realizing what was happening. I had tied the amulet in its soft leather pouch to my belt in order to keep it safe with me, in case anyone had thoughts of searching my hotel room while I was out. (It had happened in the past.) "Stop it! Help! Jim!"
The young man snarled something as he pulled at the amulet, but I had tied it with a couple of sailor's knots, guaranteed to withstand even the most nimble pickpocket's fingers.
"I'm busy here, Aisling!" Jim's voice drifted down the lawn as I struggled with my assailant. The man grunted when I stomped his foot, retaliating by slamming his elbow into my jaw so that I reeled backwards.
"Effrijim, I command thee to stop thy pooping and help thy master right this frigging second!" I yelled, my fingers clawing the man's hands as he fought to release my belt.
"Fires of Abaddon, Aisling, don't ever do that to me again. It's bad for my prostate or something—hey, who's that?"
"Get him," I snarled "
― Katie MacAlister , Fire Me Up (Aisling Grey #2)
8
" As I approached the elevators, a familiar man passed me, pausing to say, "You will—"
"Stop it right there!" I yelled, interrupting Paolo the Diviner before he could cause any more trouble for me. People in the area turned to look at us. I lowered the volume of my voice, but kept my tone as mean as I could. "I have no idea why you've decided to become my personal voice of doom, but I would appreciate it if you would stop telling me that I'm going to trip, or spill stuff on myself, or be arrested, or any of the thousand other disasters I'm sure you behold in my future, because frankly, I don't want to know. OK?"
Paolo looked offended. His nostrils flared. He backed up a step, looking down his long nose at me, his lips pressed together tightly.
"I'm sorry to be so brusque," I said, realizing I had insulted him. "And I want you to know that I appreciate your concern for my well-being"—a little white lie never hurt anyone—"but I will take my chances with life on my own."
He said nothing, just raised a supercilious eyebrow at me.
"Thank you," I said, figuring that he might leave me alone if I thanked him for his effort. "Uh ... have a nice day."
Paolo continued to stare silently at me as I made a little good-bye wave and walked toward the elevator. "
― Katie MacAlister , Fire Me Up (Aisling Grey #2)
