Drive Me Wild (Ridden Hard, #4)

by Allyson Lindt

  “Fine.” He spat the word as he brushed past her to climb into the driver’s seat. “I don’t want to owe you anymore than you want to owe me.”

  “Fine.” She stomped to the passenger side, slamming the door once she was inside.

  As they headed up the mountains, the only sound in the car was tires cutting through the water on the road, and the swish of the windshield wipers.

  Every foul word she knew raced through her mind. She came up with new and unique combinations. It was easier than focusing on the sick pit in her stomach, both from the fight, and the ebbing adrenaline.

  The car drifted into the shoulder, hitting the rumble strips, before moving into its lane again.

  Her concern spiked. “Mason?”

  No answer.

  “This is a shitty time to ignore...” She looked at him. His eyelids were drooping shut, and his hands dropped from the wheel.

  “Mason,” she shouted as she shook his arm.

  He slumped in his seat, eyes shut.

  The car crested the mountain.

  “MASON,” she screamed at the top of her lungs.

  He didn’t stir.

  The car headed down the incline at full speed.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Ginny wasn’t going to panic. The incline hadn’t hit its steepest point yet. She needed to stop the car and get to Mason.

  She hit the emergency flashers. It wasn’t as easy as she thought to knock his foot off the gas, especially with the car accelerating. The instant she did, she steered the car into the shoulder, yanked on the emergency brake.

  When the car was stopped, she put it in park and shut off the engine. She sank back into her seat. Her hands were shaking so badly, she didn’t know if she could move.

  Ginny needed to check on Mason. She forced herself to keep going.

  “Mason.” She was gentler this time, but couldn’t keep the insistence from her voice.

  His eyelids fluttered, and he groaned.

  That was a good start. “I need you to wake up.”

  “Imawake.”

  “Good.” She didn’t buy it, but it was better than a minute ago. “We need to find the nearest hospital. Fainting in the middle of the road isn’t normal.”

  “Okay.” He looked at her. “You’re pretty when you’re worried about me.”

  She kissed him on the back of the hand. “I’m pretty regardless. We need to switch seats. Can you stand long enough for that?”

  “I think so.”

  She made it to his side of the car. He only needed to lean on her a little as she helped him move.

  When he was secured, she took his spot in the driver’s seat. Please don’t let there be any more snow. Her heart couldn’t take it.

  She gripped his hand. “Keep squeezing, every few seconds, okay?”

  “Why?”

  “So I know you’re awake. I’m going to find out if it’s faster to get us an ambulance or drive us to the closest hospital.”

  He squeezed her hand. “Okay.”

  They were in the middle of nowhere. She didn’t even know how to tell an ambulance to find them. Would the need an airlift? Mason would be furious at the cost of a helicopter ambulance, but she couldn’t take any chances...

  He squeezed her hand.

  The pulse helped ground her. She had her phone find the closest hospital. Thirty miles away.

  Thank God. “Keep talking to me while I drive, okay? Tell me a story. Tell me why you have an angel tattoo. Anything that comes to mind.” Anything that let her know he was still conscious.

  “It’s not a very good story.” He still sounded tired, but the fog was lifting from his voice. “The tattoo one, I mean.”

  “I still want to hear it.” Partly to keep him talking, but also because it was about him. She wanted to know more.

  He squeezed her hand. As long as he kept talking, she didn’t need the squeeze to tell her he was conscious, but the contact was comforting. “When I turned twenty-one, my brother convinced me I needed to have a wild night out. Drink until I was sick. Get a tattoo. Do something I’d regret the next day...”

  She didn’t have the highest opinion of his brother. Maybe she’d like him if she got to know the guy. “Sounds... cliché.”

  “My brother does a lot of things that fall into that category. Insisting on stripper parties for someone who’s leaving town, for instance. Not that I’m complaining about the results.”

  “I’m curious—” it was a tiny shift in topic, but she’d get them back on track “—would you have been as likely to talk to me the way you did, in the coffee shop, if we hadn’t met the night before?”

  He rolled his head to the side to study her. “A gorgeous woman who carries herself with the knowledge she owns the room? I probably would have stammered, told me I wasn’t the guy you were looking for, and then gone back to my car and berated myself for it.”

  She didn’t know how to reply to that, aside from the heat creeping on its own across her cheeks. “I guess it’s a good thing I was abrasive.”

  “I think it’s a great thing you were you. And I love my brother like, well, a brother, but he’s an ass sometimes.”

  “So... tattoo.” It was the best she could come up with, response-wise.

  “He dragged me into some hole-in-the-wall place with stunning artwork on the wall. I had no idea what I was going to get, and this image caught my attention and wouldn’t let go, so I picked it.”

  It wasn’t a classic tale for all times, Mason was right about that, but Ginny liked it. “It’s gorgeous work.”

  “Why did you treat Giovanni differently than you do me?”

  The question rocked inside Ginny. This morning it would have made her furious. It still did, but her worry about Mason’s condition outweighed her anger. That made her slow down and actually consider her answer. Why had she acted differently? “Because.”

  “That’s not much of an answer.”

  “I’m not going to apologize for it.”

  He squeezed her hand. “I’m not asking you to. I want to understand is all.”

  Easy for him to say. He wasn’t the one who had to figure it out. It wasn’t as though she’d set out to treat the two men differently. It just happened that way. Did she actually have to unpack her own emotions, in the middle of this crisis situation? “You’re supposed to be the one talking, so that I know you’re conscious.”

  “Blah blah blah blah blah,” he sang. “You’re avoiding my question.”

  “Because at the end of the day, I don’t give a shit if Giovanni knows who I am, or sees me as anything more than a naked body.” The reply slipped out without letting her filter it first, and the truth of the words sank heavy in her bones. What did that say about her? “I mean, he’s a job. You’re not. You’re...” A friend? She’d hoped they were, but this morning turned that all on its head.

  “You didn’t even treat me like that the night we met.”

  That wasn’t completely true. “I chose the outfit I did, when I grabbed you for your VIP room, because you had a Captain America patch on your jacket.”

  “Ah.” How did he convey so much disappointment in a single syllable?

  “But then you wanted to talk, and something about that time together...” She had to find the right words to explain it to herself before she could make him understand. “You seemed different. I wanted you to see me as more. It’s the same reason I got upset when you wouldn’t talk to me in the coffee shop the next day. So I treat you differently than my clients, because I don’t want you to see me the same way they do.”

  Admitting that should be freeing. Instead she felt like she’d exposed more of herself than when she stood in front of Mason naked. It wasn’t just a story from the past. This was her now. A hint of what made her vulnerable.

  He squeezed her hand. “I’d like to think I don’t look at you that way. I prefer the Ginny I know. Direct and bold and confident and brilliant. Those make you twice as beautiful as any cover model.”
>
  Heat crept up her neck and over her cheeks. It was tempting to deflect his compliment. To say something like I was already that stunning. The words wouldn’t come. “Thank you.”

  They reached the hospital. He was wobbly, but walking on his own. Still, she made him wrap an arm around her as they headed into the emergency room.

  “I can’t afford this.” His voice was low.

  She had an idea, and she prayed it worked .”Play along. I have you covered.”

  A nurse greeted them, and asked for symptoms.

  “He passed out while he was driving. Fainted,” Ginny said. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

  Fortunately, the place was empty. Nothing like she was used to from hospitals back home. The nurse showed them back to a room almost immediately, and handed them a clipboard with paperwork to fill out.

  “And what’s your relationship?” the nurse asked.

  “I’m his fiancée.” Ginny spit the lie out without missing a beat. It might take a little twisting, but she had good insurance through her new job, and she was hoping she could get him covered.

  Odds were slim, but she was going to try anyway.

  Mason smiled. “She is. And I’m the luckiest guy ever.”

  Really, even if the insurance thing didn’t work, she’d find a way to cover his bill, because she needed Mason to be all right. For some reason, that was vitally important to her.

  MASON DIDN’T REMEMBER his mouth ever being this dry. Random snippets of the day bounced in his skull. He was getting really tired of waking up with either a headache or a fuzzy past. Both at the same time? Definitely not a fan.

  He was an ass to Ginny. He remembered that much. And then she was freaking out. She told someone they were engaged, and he agreed? He was also pretty sure he told her repeatedly how pretty she was.

  At least that wasn’t a bad thing.

  “Hey.” Her soft voice cut through the clouds. “Are you awake?”

  He forced his eyes open. The pain in his arm ran from a needle hooked to an IV. He was in a hospital. That was right.

  “What happened?” His question came out a croak. “First, water.”

  “No water yet. Only ice chips.” She grabbed a cup from the table next to his bed, and slid a piece of ice along his lip.

  Cool liquid seeped into the cracks, teasing, but not offering real relief. An out-of-place thought occurred to him and he laughed weakly. “I always thought if a sexy woman teased me with ice, it would be a lot more erotic.”

  “We’ll have to try it again when you’re not dehydrated.”

  He adored that smile. “What happened to me?” he asked again.

  “The doctors think it was a combination of things. Dehydration from the Benadryl. Low blood pressure from the wasp sting and too much ibuprofen. And altitude sickness.”

  He couldn’t afford this. Wait. They’d had this conversation. She told him she had it covered? “How am I paying for this?”

  She leaned in until her lips brushed his ear and whispered, “I told a teensy fib.”

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “My benefits with the hospital went into effect at the start of the month.” She stayed close, and kept her voice low. It may just be so she could share the secret, but he liked the proximity. “It’s good insurance. I may have told them we were domestic partners, and that you were supposed to be on my plan, but things were still getting sorted. It’s not a guarantee, but... You needed treatment.”

  “And what happens when the plan doesn’t work?”

  “I’ll deal with that.”

  It wasn’t an answer or reassuring, but he was tired. Physically, mentally, and of fighting. “Thank you for trying, regardless of how it goes. And for being worried.”

  “You’d have done the same for me.”

  He couldn’t have come close to doing something like this for her. “I would have jumped through any and all hoops that I could have.” That was a big promise. But it felt right.

  “And you’re welcome.” She kissed him on the forehead.

  She’d done that in the car too. He liked it.

  “By the way,” she said, “they’ll release you once they’re comfortable with your blood pressure, but you’re not allowed to be alone for a few days. So, you’re staying with me for at least that long. Doctor’s orders. Theirs and mine. After those couple of days are up, you’re free to go if you hate it.”

  He owed her a lot. It didn’t seem like as big a deal as he thought it would. What bothered him more was her qualifier. If you hate it.

  Because of course he’d leave when he felt better. They barely knew each other. And it wouldn’t be because he didn’t like her.

  But that wasn’t true. They did know each other. More with every passing hour, and he was desperate to keep learning about her.

  The reminder that their time together may almost be up gnawed at him worse than his thirst.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  It was a three-hour drive from the hospital to Ginny’s new apartment. Ambivalence weighed heavily on Mason. The past few days lasted an eternity, and yet, it was all about to be over.

  Neither of them talked much on the ride. It was late when the discharged him, and almost two in the morning when they reached her place.

  She dug a keyring with a single key from her pocket, and unlocked the front door. “Home sweet home.” She pushed inside and flipped on the light.

  It was sparsely furnished, and Mason didn’t care one way or the other. They wandered into the bedroom to find a simple setup. Dresser, nightstand, and barren bed.

  “I didn’t bring much with me. You’ve seen my duffel bag. But I’m happy to bundle up and pass out on any soft surface I can find,” she said.

  “I have bedding in the car.”

  “Tell me where and I can get it.”

  He rested a hand on her arm. “Your day’s been as long as mine, but I got to sleep through chunks of it. Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

  When he returned from his car, appropriate box in his grasp, he found her dozing on the couch. She started awake when he closed the front door.

  They made the bed, not exchanging any more words than they had on the drive here.

  When she dropped onto the mattress and patted the spot next to her, he had zero desire to argue. He curled up behind her, wrapped an arm around her waist, and let the exhaustion sink in.

  GINNY PUT AWAY THE groceries, except for the oatmeal and Jell-O. A happy tune had been humming in her head since she woke up next to Mason.

  “Hey.” His sleepy voice caught her off-guard.

  She whirled to see him at the edge of the kitchen, his hair mussed from sleep. He looked really sexy like that.

  “Morning.” She smiled. “Or... afternoon.”

  “I thought you weren’t supposed to leave me alone.” He’d been asleep when she went out.

  “Your personal doctor—me—determined you’d be okay for half an hour while I picked up some essentials.” She wouldn’t have considered it if the hospital doctor hadn’t cleared it.

  “You’re not that kind of doctor,” Mason said.

  “Are you complaining?”

  “No. Double no if I can eat. I’m starving.”

  “You have to start with bland, simple foods first.” She set a cup of Jell-O on the table between them. “If you do okay with it, then we’ll order Chinese food. The girl at the grocery store gave me the number of a place she swears is all authentic and all amazing.”

  He made a show of holding his gut. “I may not make it until then just on Jell-O.” His groan was exaggerated.

  She laughed. It felt good to have the room to relax. “You’ll survive.”

  “Is that your professional assessment?”

  “Yes. Dr. Ginny says eat your Jell-O, watch a movie with me, and it’ll be fine.”

  “Yes, ma’am. What are we watching?”

  She hadn’t been prepared for that question. Between work and school, she’d spent years building a menta
l list of I’ll watch that when I have time, and now she couldn’t think of a single one.

  “You promised me a viewing of Clueless.”

  “You remembered that?” She’d said it in passing. It was an old comparison to her old life and she rarely put much thought into the movie reference.

  He looked at her with disbelief. “It was about you. I’ve devoured every piece for information you’ve given me about yourself, like a man being given Chinese food after being forced to survive on Jell-O.”

  Ginny didn’t know how to respond. Warmth and embarrassment rushed inside. “Oh.”

  “I even remember what you told me about how you were acting in front of Giovanni, which, by the way, I’m sorry about the way I reacted. I’m going to blame it a little on the headache and dehydration, but mostly on jealousy.”

  She ducked her head. “It’s okay. You explained the why and I understand. I’m glad you gave me a chance to explain myself.”

  “Me too.” He grasped her hand and tugged her toward the living room. “Clueless?”

  That pretty much described how she felt right now. She dealt with attention every day, but this, coming from Mason, it was sincere. It was sweet. And there was no expectation behind it besides that she hear him.

  She didn’t know what to do with that. “We have to watch on my laptop, no TV”—duh, he could see that—“I hope that’s all right.”

  “It’s exactly what I’ll be living in my own place.” He faltered.

  She felt it in her gut. Because this was her home, not his. “Movie time.” Her voice was too bright to her own ears.

  She set her computer on the coffee table, started the movie, and settled back. It felt natural to sit next to Mason, arm pressed against his and her head resting on his shoulder.

  This wouldn’t last. It couldn’t.

  Why not? I’m not going to even give it a try?

  The thought moved in and took up space. Mason laughed through large parts of the movie, but half of Ginny was stuck in her own head rather than appreciating the show.

  They needed to get closer to friendship first. But that wouldn’t happen if he left in few days.