She planted her feet, resisting me.
“Over the shoulder it is then.” I gave her one second to rethink her position.
She stomped her foot and huffed. “Fine. I’ll go with you.”
Had she hidden that she was former military? “Where’d you learn to disarm a knife attacker like that?”
“Saw it in a movie, I think.”
Liar, liar, pants on fire.“It looked like you hurt him.” Pressing the key fob button, I unlocked the car.
“I dislocated his shoulder.” She looked away. “I think.”
“Really?”
“I used to think you were a nice guy.”
“And I used to think you were sensible and smart, in addition to beautiful.”
Without another word, she walked to the passenger-side door and let herself in. This anger didn’t fit her.
I could maybe understand not bothering with the cops if she hadn’t been robbed or hurt. But both had happened.
Something was wrong about her response to all this—the mugging and now going to the hospital.
CHAPTER 3
Peyton
I settledinto the plush leather seat of the Porsche, trying in vain to think of a way to avoid this visit to the hospital.
March got in and started the car without a word.
“I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Then the hospital is the perfect place to take you. They’ll have nice bowls for you to puke into.”
“I might not make it.”
He lowered the window on my side. “Go ahead and puke if you want. It’s a company car, so you’ll have to answer to Joe.”
Joe was their mechanic, and not somebody I wanted to get on the wrong side of. My excuse hadn’t worked, so I buckled in and raised the window.
March’s tone said he was justifiably angry with me. But, he’d also called mesmartandbeautiful.That was actually a nice thing for him to say.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled.
March deserved better. He was a nice guy, and I’d been bitchy. No, super bitchy. He’d saved me from those two guys, and I’d still treated him like crap. What the hell was wrong with me? I should be kissing him for that.Wrong.Kissing would be a mistake.
“Forget it,” he said. The words were fine, but the tone didn’t back them up.
I turned to face him. “It’s not you, March. I’m truly afraid of hospitals is the problem, and I shouldn’t be taking it out on you. I apologize.”
His face softened. “I didn’t know. What can I do to make it more comfortable for you?”
I’d already said too much, so I laughed. “Nothing.” That was the truth. “I have to learn to deal with the anxiety.”
He slid a hand over the center console in invitation. “I’ll be here for you.” It was the kindest gesture anyone had offered me in a very long time.
