Maybe he wouldn’t have been so willing to say yes to coming if he got out enough to remember who people belonged to in this town. Because maybe he would have known she would be present. The woman who had dazzled him and caused him to break his routine enough to ask her on a date a few months ago.
Because surely Kenya Stewart didn’t want to be around the man who ghosted her after their first date. But second and third dates didn’t fit into his plans. Especially since Kenya had the potential to turn his world upside down in all the right ways.
He’d almost left the ceremony then, but by the time he could make an exit, Ben was ushering him to his car and the Davidson Center for cocktail hour.
Yet none of his avoidance mattered because here he was, driving her and her worried mother to the hospital. He had to admit, watching Kenya slide onto the dance floor and start to move had been compelling. So much so, he stepped away from the wall to get a closer look. She dipped and shimmied and acted like she was shaking off all inhibitions. He’d almost been envious of her ability to radiate so much joy in a room already brimming with it. He couldn’t take his eyes off her for those few minutes, and then when everyone moved to the next part, she added an extra twirl and made a dive so quickly no one could catch her. Before he knew what he was doing, he rushed to her side. Her cry of pain pierced through the music and sent shards into his heart. Kenya Stewart had left her mark on him from those months before, and he hadn’t known it until that moment.
So much for staying out of her way.
3
THE CAR CAMEto a stop in front of the emergency room entrance. Her mom pushed open her door, while Solomon jumped out after placing the car in park. It felt like too much fuss for an ankle. Kenya tried to dislodge her leg from in between the seats.
Foolish choice. She pressed her lips together, the pain shooting up her calf muscle. Her mother entered through the front passenger door. “Young man, if you’ll brace Kenya, I will lift her ankle so we can get her out.”
“Yes, ma’am.” His voice was smooth and deeper than she remembered. It held comfort but also a note of sympathy that she despised. Why did he have to be the one not only to witness her fall but to volunteer to bring her to the hospital? There were so many capable men at the wedding, including her father. But somehow she had convinced them all to stay and enjoy the party, all the while waving her stiletto around like a glass of champagne, giddy from adrenaline and embarrassment.
So now, instead of having her daddy’s arms wrapped around her shoulders, she had to lean into the embrace of the man she’d gone on one date with but who didn’t want to see her again, if his lack of follow-up was any indication. Heat surged into her cheeks as he held and backed her up while her mother lifted her leg by the calf.
“Wait right there, let me go get a wheelchair for her.”
“Oh, Mama, that isn’t necessary.” Her mother ignored her plea and hurried inside.
“I really don’t need all that,” Kenya said, more to herself.
“Would you rather I carried you in?” His voice hummed against her ear. He was so close that his breath shifted a few strands of her straightened hair.
“I would die first.”
“That is a dramatic statement.” His chuckle rumbled through his chest and against her shoulder.
“Drama runs in my blood, apparently.” She huffed, willing her mother to hurry back with the wheelchair so she could dislodge herself from his awkward grip.
“That fall of yours was definitely something to see.”
If her cheeks heated any more, the makeup would drip off her face. She was too dazed with pain to come up with a snarky remark. Every other thought besides the shape of his arms and the throb of her ankle puffed away like wisps of steam. Her head was too thick with fog to clear at the moment.
“Your chariot has arrived.” He gripped her a little tighter, cupping her forearms and giving her no choice but to lean back against his chest as he backed toward the wheelchair her mother pushed to a stop next to him. Her mother scurried around to the other side of them and placed her hands under Kenya’s injured leg. He settled her carefully in the seat of the chair. Kenya felt the absence of his body almost immediately. The cold seat of the wheelchair shocked her back into the reality of her predicament.
“Well, thank you, Dr.—”
“Solomon, remember? You can just call me Solomon.”
“Okay, Dr. Solomon.” She managed to give him a sly grin. “Thank you for your help. You can get back to the party and your date.”
“You are welcome.” He’d caught her dismissive tone—she saw the realization in his eyes. But instead of moving back to his car,he took the wheelchair handles and began to push. “I will at least see you all the way through the door.”
Her mother gathered their purses into her arms, following them into the hospital. Kenya glanced down at her dress, all shimmery gauze, the rip on the side showing off the right ankle that was swelling by the minute.
What an intriguing shade of purple. She smirked as the people in the waiting room did double takes at her appearance. A little too dressed up for this party, wasn’t she? She always did know how to make an entrance. They were usually less painful and cringe-inducing than her dance-floor debacle. She’d be even more embarrassed if she wasn’t in so much pain.
Her mother rushed to the front desk, while Dr. Solomon settled her into a corner by a potted plant and two other chairs.
“Well...”
“Well.” He shoved his hands into his pants pockets. Kenya admired the socks that peeked out of his shoes as his slacks lifted.How cute.That hue matched the color of her bruise quite well. She must have stared down at them too long because he leaned a little lower to meet her eyes.
“You’re not going to throw up on my feet, are you?”
