Her Broken Hero Billionaire (Billionaire Bachelor Mountain Cove Book 8)

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Her Broken Hero Billionaire (Billionaire Bachelor Mountain Cove Book 8) Page 4

by Stephanie Fowers


  Jett’s place was being overrun by do-gooders. He shifted in his seat, his eyes running to Aaron for help.

  Mrs. Ward’s arm slid around the slender beauty next to her, who stood at least a foot taller than the diminutive older lady. “And this is Hannah Noah. She’s the physical therapist I’ve been telling you about. She’s done wonders for my candy arm.”

  Candy arm? Unbelievable. What novices had Aaron brought to his home? Not impressed, he slanted Aaron another accusing look before twisting back to this group. “What else can she do? Cure butterfingers?”

  A muffled giggle came from the physical therapist—Hannah, was that her name? She covered her mouth, and he was entranced by each slender finger.

  No, no, this was not the right timing for this. A rage built in him at the injustice. “You’ve got to be pretty desperate to take a job like this,” he said. “What’s the matter? No one else will take you?”

  Aaron’s sweet little grandmother gasped, but Hannah set her shoulders and drew forward, her hand outstretched. “I’m sorry. I forgot my manners. I work at a general practice at the moment, but I specialize in leg injuries. I’ve put more than my share of patients back on their feet.”

  He noticed the tense line between her brows and was immediately suspicious. This girl was desperate. “You ever work with amputees?” he asked her.

  “No, but my father …”

  Shoving the basket of fudge to the side, he swung around. “Aaron!”

  “But you know what? I’ve worked with a lot of hotheads …”

  Did she really just say that?

  Aaron cracked up at that. “Oh, I like this one. I say we keep her.”

  Mrs. Ward was not amused. “Aaron! Jett! I didn’t drag Hannah here for you to treat her like day-old brownies.” She drew forward to put a finger in his face. “The very idea! She’s a sweet girl; everyone loves her at Eureka Springs Healthcare.” She ripped the basket of fudge away from Jett, and he almost laughed. “C’mon, Hannah. We’ll eat this on the way home … without him.”

  “No.” Aaron jumped in front of the door before Jett could apologize. “Jett’s really not himself right now. I mean, it’s not like he’s going to turn all Hades on her and abduct her like she’s Persephone and carry her off to his underground lair.”

  Jett’s brows rose, impressed by the reference.

  “Hades …?” Mrs. Ward’s mouth moved like a fish. “Yes, yes, that’s exactly what he is!”

  Aaron winced. Jett didn’t know what he was thinking putting that into Mrs. Ward’s head, but Aaron braced his fingers against the doorframe like he was trying to make up for it. “Look, he doesn’t mean half the things he’s sayi—”

  “You talk for him now?” Mrs. Ward let Aaron have it while Huxley jumped to his wobbly legs to add his barks to the excitement.

  Jett studied Hannah. He was used to reading people when making a sale. That sense had only been heightened in his weakened state, because he depended on it to live. She wasn’t backing out the door with Mrs. Ward, like any sane person would. The woman would do anything for this job. “How much did that idiot offer you to work with me?” he asked through the noise.

  Her face reddened. In normal circumstances he’d feel horrible, but he was in full-on survival mode now. He’d weed out anyone who couldn’t handle him. She pushed a strand of hair from her face. “I don’t know.”

  Was she joking? “Then why’d you come rushing over here to see me?” What was going on?

  “Jett Eastwood.” Her voice took on the air of authority a schoolteacher used to take charge of the classroom. “I came here as a favor to Grandma Julie. She said you needed my help, and I had to know if you were up for the task.”

  He felt the heat creep up his neck to his ears, but there was still something that reeked of desperation about her. “At this time of night?” he asked.

  Aaron turned from his pleading with Mrs. Ward to cut in on Jett’s conversation. “He wants to climb again. Can you do that?”

  Hannah’s eyes ran over Jett as she took over the role of a medical professional. Even Huxley’s barks were silenced.

  Jett sucked in his breath, feeling like an object again. It made him self-conscious, not because of how he looked anymore—she wouldn’t be scared away—but because he didn’t want to look pathetic for wanting the impossible. “This is Aaron’s idea, not mine,” he growled. It was important that she knew that Jett was firmly grounded in reality.

  “You’re in pain when you use your prosthetic leg?” she asked. Aaron nodded, but she still addressed Jett. That was different. All the rest of the physical therapists had given up communicating directly with him long ago. “My dad was a prosthetist—he taught me a few things. We’d have to desensitize your leg, figure out how to manage the pain, build your balance, but yeah, you could climb.”

  Jett’s traitorous heart flipped over on itself.

  Aaron was the first to find his voice. “How long would it take?”

  Her eyes met Jett’s, and she looked at him like no one had looked at him for a long time—like she saw him as a living, breathing person, not his injury. “It depends how much you want it, Jett,” she said. “You’re fit—you’ve been working out. I can see that.” Her gaze ran over him, and he was almost sorry he’d started this “say whatever you want” contest as she matched his frankness with her own. “We can get you climbing in two months … if we can get along.”

  He let out the breath he’d been holding to make a sound of disdain. I can’t even walk! No way would he fall for her snake oil salesmanship. Disappointment riddled through him. “Is that your diagnosis, princess? You’re gonna make the broken man whole again? You’re gonna do what no army of doctors could? What a joke!” He’d make her pay for the hope she’d made him feel, even as she drew back in anger. “I can’t say I wouldn’t have loved to play into your delusions, Hannah. We could’ve had a lot of fun. You’re just the kind of girl I would’ve dated in my past life … until you opened your mouth.”

  Chapter Four

  Grandma Julie huffed out in outrage, and Hannah felt the older lady’s hand clasp over her arm to hustle her out the door, but Hannah wasn’t going anywhere. Out there was Ryan and his threats, and after seeing the heavy security they’d had to pass to get into The Mountain Cove, Hannah planted her feet.

  Jett could be the guardian of the underworld for all she cared; she was staying here. This place was like the belly of the mountain with its granite walls and high bamboo ceilings. Even Jett’s library—though it rivaled the enormity of the Boston Public Library she’d visit as a child—carried on this architecture with rocks upon rocks plated through the walls like the inside of an elaborate cavern. Thousands of books stacked into lines of shelves cut off the massive room, making it feel almost private where they stood, though earlier she’d tipped back on her heels to see that the room was possibly bigger than the mini hospital where she worked.

  No, she’d found the perfect hideaway. Now that she’d discovered it, she couldn’t leave. The adrenaline after her encounter with Ryan still coursed through her, and she twisted to plead with the aggravating Jett Eastwood.

  He was beautiful in his fury, his eyes impossibly green against his olive-toned skin. What was his heritage? He’d bragged about it in some online video somewhere—Hawaiian, German, Irish, some Native American. She saw it in the high cut of his cheekbones. He was built, so built. She hadn’t been lying when she’d said he was fit—he hadn’t let a thing go after his accident, except his leg. He was unshaven and his dark hair was on the long side, tinted gold from the sun. He reminded her of a wounded lion, complete with the dangerous glint in his eye that she didn’t trust.

  “Man, Jett, what are you thinking?” Even his friend was angry with him.

  “What were you thinking, Aaron?” Jett shot back. “Just because I’m stuck here doesn’t mean I have to sit here and listen to your wild fantasies.”

  “A simple ‘no’ would’ve been fine,” Julie Ward cried. “No
need to insult my friend.” She waved her hands all over the place. Hannah wouldn’t be surprised if she dumped the basket of fudge over Jett’s head. Hannah would’ve run out now, but she had no choice but to stay. No choice at all.

  “What’s your problem?” Aaron said, as if he were talking to an insane man. “You never said you couldn’t do anything before.”

  “I was wrong. If I’d been strong enough, none of this would’ve happened.”

  She’d never imagined seeing Jett this way after viewing his online snippets years ago. Back then, he’d been full of confidence … and he wasn’t anymore. He’d lost his identity—that was the first thing she’d have to fix. Watching him, she felt a kinship with him that had nothing to do with using his place to hide out. The way Jett acted out was exactly how she felt now, angry and defiant. It made her desperate to help him, like that would make it possible to reclaim the brave woman she’d once been too.

  He fixed them all with a stern look. His hulking dog added to his otherworldly air, like together they guarded his lair from all intruders. “Just go.”

  “And I say she stays,” Aaron said. “I’ll pay her.”

  “Oh? Do you have some butterfingers you want her to fix, or are you just desperate to keep a beautiful woman at your place? She’s not staying here.”

  Aaron doubled down. “Yes, she is.”

  “Okay, okay!” Hannah held up her hands, noticing they shook with fear. She was terrified he’d kick her out, leaving her to Ryan. She took a deep breath and forced a smile. She’d have to defuse the situation. No one was helping Jett if he didn’t want this. She remembered the little girl at the clinic. He was scared; it all boiled down to that. She tried to gulp down her own panic while keeping a measured tone. “Okay, Jett Eastwood! The choice is yours—none of us will take that away from you. But tell me why you think you can’t do it.”

  His head swung around and he faced her like a dog guarding his favorite bone—at the moment, that bone was his frustration and helplessness. A deep scar ran down his cheek, and another cut his heavy eyebrow in half. Instead of the freak show he claimed he was, his scars gave him a rakish look—all outward signs of what he’d been through, but there was more emotional trauma going on. She hoped to get to that, if she could get past her own rushing pulse.

  “I didn’t say I couldn’t do it.” Clearly he meant Hannah wasn’t up to the task. He was trying to drive her away, of course. It had come out in his dangerous smile before he’d insulted her. She’d seen it before.

  Maybe she’d been overly ambitious saying two months, but now she’d never back down. Everything rested on this moment. “Okay,” she said, and she tried to calm him down with another unsteady smile. “You’re a man who takes risks. Prove me wrong, then—work with me and we’ll see what happens. I’m not saying that you don’t give me top performance, either. You’ve got to make this fair. If, at the end of two months, you’re no closer to climbing than a baby seal, then I call it quits and I back off … without pay.”

  That amazing brow shot up, and his lip curled. Maybe she shouldn’t have compared him to a baby seal, but he stared at her a moment before asking, “You’re that sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “You know what?” He seemed to fight some inward battle before he shrugged. “Okay, you just asked for it, sister. You’ve got a deal.” Her knees went weak, but he wasn’t through with her yet. He glowered challengingly at her. “There’s a climbing event at Horseshoe Canyon—the HeatWave—it’s at the beginning of August. You qualify me for that event, then you win. If not … you pack your bags and go peddle your dreams elsewhere.”

  “I’m paying her,” Aaron said.

  “No one asked you.”

  Grandma Julie gasped, and Hannah put a hand on her arm, fighting her own fluttering stomach. “No one will pay me if you’re not ready.” She didn’t care about the money anyway—she just needed to get away from Ryan.

  Jett’s attention homed in on her, and he misinterpreted her eagerness. “Don’t think you’re going to get famous off this,” he said. “You’re signing nondisclosure agreements, no cameras, no talk shows, no book deals.”

  Her shoulders sagged in relief as her heart beat out the possibilities. This really could work. She’d have a massive fortress to hide from Ryan for at least two months. And if she was successful? Maybe longer. No, don’t think too far ahead. At least she could buy herself some time. Her eyes flicked nervously to Jett’s. “I have no problem with that.” Her thoughts flew to Rosabel. “Don’t let anyone know you’re working with me either.”

  She’d surprised him. “Why?”

  She forced out a laugh that was more confident than she felt. “Because I don’t want to add ‘dealing with stubborn men’ to my résumé.”

  Aaron chuckled at his friend’s reddened face. “She got you there, Jett!”

  “I don’t like it!” Julie Ward announced. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, men, but Hannah doesn’t deserve to be treated like a second-class citizen, hidden away from the world in this … this depressing underground base. She’s one of the best physical therapists I’ve seen.”

  “Then you have nothing to worry about,” Jett said with an arrogant look. The man was so sure this was a waste of time. “She’ll come out of this with a huge paycheck.”

  Hannah clenched her fists together. She’d thrown her fate into this unpleasant stranger’s hands, and she was desperate to earn her place here. “Let’s see you walk, Jett.”

  His confidence melted away. “What? Right now?”

  “Yes, you only gave me two months. We need to get to work.”

  He sighed, leaning against the high back of the chaise lounge before pushing up his sleeves. His black Henley shirt accentuated every muscle. Yeah, he was attractive. That doesn’t matter! She tried to banish all traitorous thoughts and stepped back, noticing the veins stand out on Jett’s muscular wrists as he snapped his fingers at Aaron. “Hand me my leg, will ya?” Jett’s eyes lifted to Hannah’s. “I’ve graduated from my peg leg.”

  Well, he specialized in being shocking! But if he thought he could scare her, he didn’t know the guy she was comparing him to. Still, she kept her distance.

  Jett put a sleeve on the stump of his leg first, making sure all the air was out to avoid blisters. She watched him work. Those arms were massive. Ugh, stop it—he could turn on me as easily as Ryan does.

  His Maori tattoos made up of shark teeth encircled his forearm, which flexed as he rolled another band over his stump to give it more mass. His friend had clearly seen Jett put on his prosthetic so many times that he had a spray bottle of alcohol ready. Jett took the bottle from Aaron and sprayed it over the sleeve to help lubricate the area to get the socket back on. Then he scooted forward on his seat, pushing his stump into the advanced metal prosthetic leg. The socket looked like it belonged to a droid—maybe engineered from Hugh Herr himself. The metal design was so sleek, it gave Jett a bionic vibe. Leaning heavily on the chaise lounge, he put his weight on the prosthetic and stood.

  She stared up … and up at where he towered over them like they were mere children. She’d had no idea Jett was so massively tall, about 6’4”, she’d guess. He stepped in place like a giant descending from the beanstalk as he forced the air to evacuate from the device until it attached to him in a type of vacuum. He avoided actually walking, however.

  “Okay.” Her voice caught, and she cleared her throat and tried again. “Walk in a straight line.”

  Taking a deep breath, he rolled his eyes like she was asking for a soberness check, and just went for it. He wasn’t stable. His transfemoral gait was about 30% slower than what was normal, and he overcompensated with his hip and trunk muscles. He vaulted over the bad leg to get to the better foot, which meant he didn’t trust the prosthetic, and his trunk bent forward. She had to figure out if that was caused by pain, fear, lack of balance or strength … no, not strength. This guy was a monster of muscle.

  She gulped. “O
kay.” She gave her diagnosis. “You vault and you have a lateral trunk bend.”

  “English, Hannah,” he snapped.

  “You know what?” She forced herself to match his rough tone. Aaron had done it, and Jett respected it in some strange way. “Until you start acting like the nice guy I saw on your videos, I’m not going to bother explaining anything.”

  He gritted his teeth, settling back onto the chaise lounge before trying again. “I’m sorry. What are you saying?”

  Acting tough had worked. Her stomach had tightened so much she felt like she was going to be sick, but she had his attention. “If I don’t interfere soon, you’ll have permanent lower back pain, plus joint problems in the sound leg.”

  “Too late.”

  “Nothing is too late.” The most important thing was to give back hope to those who thought their lives were over, even if he didn’t want it right now. “People have been doing impossible things long before you started inventing prototypes for the military.” Despite the anxiety aching through her back since this night had begun, she felt a flicker of hope herself. She could help him. She really could. “Get in line for your miracle—you’re next.”

  Jett stiffened, and she straightened too. Why did Jett think it was so bad to have a little faith? He reacted violently even hearing he had a chance, but Hannah couldn’t back off now or they’d both lose.

  She set her shoulders in the face of Jett’s dark looks, preparing for battle, even as the memory of Ryan’s painful temper surged through her. “You got knocked down and bruised, okay?” She gulped, listening to herself—she could be talking about what had happened to her. She tried to focus on Jett. “Think of yourself as in the cocoon stage. At the end of this, you’ll be a butterfly.”

  “Did you seriously just compare me to a butterfly?” He laughed outright. But there was a gleam of something in his eyes that showed he was listening. She stammered to explain, but he just waved it away. “Fine, fine, let’s do this. The broken guy’s stuck with you now. That’s how it works, right? I can’t run until you show me how.”

 

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