“So, your premiums go up?” I scoff. “And you want me to seek legal counsel, which would cost me money, for damages you caused?”
“Listen!” she snarls, tired of my shit already. “I’m trying to help you! Obviously, I didn’t set out tonight to run a man down in the middle of the friggin’ street.”
“You have a short temper, Anna Maxwell.” I choke out a soft, pain-in-every-part-of-my-body chuckle, and offering my water back before I spill it, I lick my lips andthrillin the way her eyes follow the movement.No poker face, either.“You mustn’t be a very good lawyer if you can’t even control your outbursts. Judges hate that, don’t they?”
“I have control of myself,” she bites out through gritted teeth. Snatching up a brand-new bandage and peeling the plastic off the outside, she brings her eyes back to mine and wages a war between her bad mood and her common sense.Gotta be nice to the guy you nearly killed a week before Christmas.“If you sit up, I can help wrap your shoulder.”
“I don’t need?—”
“I insist.” She grabs my shirt and yanks me up, forcing my back against the couch cushions, but when I tilt to the side, shecatches my face with a resoundingcrackof her palm against my cheek, then crawls onto the couch beside me, perched on her knees, to become a post for me to lean on.
I’m not a monster or anything, but when a beautiful woman insists on placing her tits exactly in my line of sight…
“We probably should take your shirt off,” she grunts.Not at all the tone I would take if our positions were reversed. “I can’t wrap you effectively with it on. Plus, we probably need to get eyes on your torso. Ya know,” she growls, “make sure you’re not bleeding internally.”
“You’re quite forward, you know that?” I hurt all over. Agony creates fingers of pain, like little bastard fork prongs poking every nerve ending I own. But that doesn’t stop me from teasing the woman who’s clearly more in shock than I am.
One of us was mowed down like a pin in a bowling alley tonight, the other is feeling big feelings about it.
“We only met tonight.” I push forward with a grunt and allow her to grab the hem of my shirt. “But you’re already taking my clothes off. New-age women.” I click my tongue. “Not like my mama’s generation.”
“Mmhm.” She tugs the fabric over my head, careful not to destroy my shouldermore.“I understand your desire for your mother’s bosom during this difficult time. Luckily for you, I can wrap this up nice and quick, thanks to Mr. Fix-It on the internet, then I’ll call your mom and have her swing by to collect you. Doesn’t that sound nice?”
In an alternate reality, maybe.
“What were you doing on the road anyway?” She peeks across at her iPad, the video moving well ahead of where she’s up to. Grabbing my bicep, she pulls my arm away from my body and places my hand on my fucking hip.
I release a feral, pained hiss from somewhere deep in my chest. “Fuck, woman! Gentle please.”
“Sorry.” She lays her arm across my back, propping me forward. “Children typically learn to stay off the road by around kindergarten. Did your mother forget to impart this vital piece of information on her baby boy?”
“Guess it slipped her mind.” I tip my head to the left and lay against her chest. Fuck it. We’re riding shock and impulse tonight, and her booming pulse in my ear distracts me from the agony in my shoulder. “Not ashamed to admit I was admiring your car, even as it was running me the fuck over. Don’t see many Road Runners around these days. Not in the condition yours is in, anyway.”
“It’s in worse condition now than it was an hour ago.” She gets to work dragging the tan bandage all the way across my chest and around to secure my arm in place. “While you’re busy admiring my car, I’m terrified it might be dented. I feel bad for hitting you and all that, but my heart might not handle any real damage to the frame.”
I cough out an agonizing, lung-aching laugh. “Priorities matter, Counselor. You always had a thing for the classics, or did you divorce an enthusiast and take his baby in the settlement?”
Pausing, she looks down and meets my eyes. “I’ve never been divorced, nor have I met a man who loves his car more than I love mine.”
“So, while your girlfriends were out buying soft-top zipabouts on their seventeenth birthdays, you bought muscle?”
“No. I helped rebuild it from scraps.” Going back to work, she reaches across and stretches the bandage around my chest. “It belonged to my father, and what we lacked in funds, we made up with enthusiasm and time spent at the junkyard.”
“No shit?” I pull away and reconsider her girly braids. Her long, dark lashes curled around eyes of melted chocolate. Then I grab her wrist and bring her hand in front of my face. “Been a minute since you were last under the hood, huh? Your palms are clean as can be.”
She drags herself free and continues working.Get him fixed. Get him out.“I’m under the hood often enough to ensure she stays healthy. My father taught me well. Now let’s circle back to my first question; why were you on the road tonight?”
I grab one of her braids and study the mahogany locks. The purple elastic. The subtle blonde highlights interspersed between the rest. “I was exercising.”
With narrowed eyes, she stares down at my legs. My jeans. And at the end, my choice of footwear. “Do you often exercise in boots, Mr. Warner?” She swings a fast hand up and fists my beanie, dragging it off to reveal my short, almost black hair. “And ski masks?”
“The local police department has confirmed we’re searching for three separate men in connection with the slew of jewelry store heists over the last few weeks.”The chick on the television presses a finger to her ear while someone feeds her information in real time.“Authorities assure us they’re closing in on these bandits, and thanks to an anonymous tip, tonight’s planned robbery, which would have been the largest to date, was unsuccessful.”
Anna’s eyes narrow to deadly slits in my peripherals, while headlights flash across the front of her house. Tires roll over gravel, and a second later, an engine cuts out.
“Shit!” From suspicious to rattled, Anna speed-wraps with a dizzying flurry of her arms, tugging my bandage extra tight so her efforts transform fromsupportto something a little more akin torestraint. Heavy footsteps thud on the stairs outside,then across her porch, so the vibration carries through the floor.
Panicky as she secures my bandage, Anna bounces off the couch, jostling my aching body, and snatches up the plastic bandage wrapping. She switches off her iPad with a fast swipe of her fingers and shoves both into her file box.
