“Gracie.”
“I mean it, Chris. I’m fine.”
I pulled the towel away from my face as evidence. Unfortunately, it was now stained bright red and that diminished my argument a bit.
“I’d feel better if you had someone take a look at you first.”
“You’re someone. You looked at me. I trust you.”
“Grace.”
“Christopher.”
“If you were Blake, I’d want you to get a second opinion. Just to make sure.”
“Well luckily we’re not married. I don’t need stitches or anything, do I?”
With a sigh, he took a look. “You’re gonna have one hell of a black eye. Maybe two. But your nose isn’t broken, and the cuts are superficial. I suppose you’re okay.”
“That’s because I’m super awesome. I mean, look at me. I total my car and walk away unscathed. Lauren face plants into my coffee table and ends up with a scar for the rest of her life.”
“I’d still feel better if you went the the emergency room. Just to humor me.”
“I’m not going, Christopher. They’ll cut my clothes off my body and I just bought this outfit.”
“I have it on pretty good authority that they don’t do that unless you can’t undress yourself. You seem perfectly capable of doing that.”
“See? You just admitted that I’m fine.”
“Then I’m calling Blake to come get you.”
“No. She’s busy for the rest of the day. Huge business client. Don’t bother her.”
“I have to tell her what happened. It’s not like you’ll be back for the rest of the workday.”
“I should be. Maybe I could just have you call a cab to take me back to the store?”
I batted my eyelashes at him, a flagrant attempt to butter him up. It didn’t work.
“I’ll call Lauren,” he continued, effectively ignoring me.
I shook my head. “She’s busy, too. She can’t just up and leave work to pick me up.”
“Matthew?”
“Same thing.”
“Regina?”
“She’s got children to take care of. You really think that she wants to pack up Quinn and Sadie and run down here? Hope you’ve got an hour to kill.”
“Then you’re coming with me. I’m not going to let you go home by yourself like this. By the time you get checked out, Lauren will only need to skip out on an hour or so of work. You know George won’t care; he’ll let her go early. And she’s staying with you tonight. Or you’re going over there. Just in case something happens.”
“Something like what?” I snapped.
“Stop being a stubborn bitch, Gracie, and let someone take care of you.”
My eyes slammed shut in an attempt to calm myself down. Chris was right and I knew it. He knew that I knew it, and I didn’t want to see him gloat.
The last thing in the world I’d expected for today was to spend its remainder in the emergency room, undergoing x-rays or whatever other torture they were going to put me through. It would all be for naught, but it would make Chris feel better. Chris, the guy who had pulled me over to the side that day in my house and promised to always take care of me. Chris, who was a man of his word even when it pissed me right the hell off.
Eyes still closed, I gave up and relented.
“Fine, Chris. Let’s go.”
But my words were drowned out by a third voice, a new party to the conversation.
“I’ll take her home, Chris.”
I didn’t need to open my eyes to put a name with that sound, but I did anyway.
Immediately, I wished to amend my previous statement. This was the last thing in the world I’d expected to happen today.
Chapter Twenty-One
Will didn’t even look at me. It was like I wasn’t a part of the discussion at all. I felt rather than saw the surprise in the air that radiated off of Chris, either from his cop friend showing up on scene or from Will’s offer to take me off of his hands. While the two of them did some sort of territorial staring at each other, I took the opportunity to drink in the sight of my former lover.
Will was head to toe police officer, and it was either the uniform or his absence from my life that made him hotter than ever. I was instantly grateful that he’d shown up later in the action, after the whole Chris taking my vital signs part because I really didn’t want to have to explain the sudden spike in my heart rate.
“Are you sure?” Chris asked him. Perhaps Blake had clued her husband in on the whole conversation we’d had about Will not liking me. He sounded genuinely shocked that Will was volunteering. “I’m not talking a drop off; I’m talking someone needs to stay with her tonight.”
Will shrugged. “I just got off duty. I don’t work tomorrow; it’s cool. Not like I’m doing anything better.”
This was a bad idea. A very, very bad idea.
“I’m not riding in that thing,” I piped up, referring to his police cruiser. “Can’t one of you just ask one of your hot firefighter buddies to babysit me?”
Both men turned to me.
“You do know hot firefighters, don’t you?”
“Shut up, Grace.” From Chris, of course.
Will was too busy giving me the evil eye. Then I remembered that he had a gun, and it probably wasn’t too wise to argue too passionately with him.
“Fuck it,” I muttered, “I don’t really have a say in the matter, do I?”
“Now she’s learning. Come on. Let’s go.”
If Will expected me to jump to attention like some sort of lap dog, then he had another thing coming. Armed or not, I didn’t let anyone command me like that.
“Christopher,” I whined.
“Sweetie, it’s either Will or the hospital. Pick your poison.”
“Fine, but I don’t have to like it.”
“I’d prefer that you didn’t.” Will chimed in.
His words stung. Were they said out of bravado, or was there more than a hint of truth in them? If he despised me as much as it sounded like he did, why in the world would he agree to this?
“I still have to give my statement to the police,” I reminded anyone who’d listen. A stalling tactic for sure. Not like I was looking forward to that part.
“You can tell me what happened on the way home. See? Taken care of.”
Involuntarily, my middle finger separated itself from the rest of the bunch. Discreetly, of course. Chris swallowed down a chuckle and extended his hand to me.
“I’ll walk you to the car,” he said.
I leaned on him more than I wanted to admit. There was possibly some wisdom in him suggesting that I seek medical attention at a location other than the middle of an intersection, but I wasn’t about to change my tune now. I was getting what I wanted in more ways than one, right? No doctors and a captive audience with someone I thought had been lost to me forever. Bad idea or not, I could press Will to explain some things. Like how in the world he had ended up here at the scene of my accident.
“You’ll be fine,” Chris insisted, “Will won’t bite.”
I choked on that comment, drawing a look of concern before Chris continued.
“He’s probably a better choice than anyone else to take care of you. Except me, of course. But he’s got some training as far as first responding goes, and he can haul ass to the hospital if need be. You’re in good hands.”
How sweet of him to be concerned about sending me off with what he thought was a near stranger. The awkwardness of my situation was palpable, but the cause was certainly misunderstood. For the second time since me moving up here, Chris pulled me into a hug. I melted into his embrace, forgetting for a moment about my bloodied face and thinking only of how lucky Blake was to have a guy so wonderful in her life. Of course I’d never tell him that; he’d get an even bigger head than he already had.
“Promise me that you’ll go home and get some rest and not think about work,” he whispered into my hair. “I’ll take care of my wife.”
&nbs
p; I nodded, knowing he could feel the motion. My eyes traveled over the bulk of his shoulder and to Will’s face as he stood back a couple feet, watching us. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear I saw a touch of jealousy in the green eyes that bore into me. Before I could think about what that meant, he turned away.
I relinquished my grip on Chris just as Will came to my side. His fingers cupped my elbow, and the hand off from one man to the other was complete. Pure electricity shot up my arm, and I stumbled over my own feet. Will’s hold on me tightened and I found myself not wanting him to ever let go.
But let go he did, as he opened the passenger side door of his police car and ushered me in. Before I gathered my bearings, he was buckling me into my seat. His arm brushed against my breasts as he latched my seatbelt. He left it there a moment too long to be considered accidental, then pulled away; a slow, sensual burn against my already erect nipples.
“Will?” My voice betrayed me, low and scratchy and thick with pent-up desire.
He jerked away from me, certain that I was admonishing him for his actions. He cleared his throat, putting his professional façade back on. “Yeah?”
“I need my stuff out of my car. Before they tow it.”
He stared at me blankly for a moment. I tilted my head in the direction of what remained intact of my Taurus, a distance that seemed miles away from where I was seated now. Then he nodded.
“My purse and my keys and my garage door opener. Then there’s some stuff for the house in the backseat. There’s a lot. I’m sorry; I’ll help you get it.”
“No.” He stuck his hand out to stop me. “You stay put. I’ll have Chris help me.”
With that, he closed the passenger door securely. He turned to his friend, dispensed some orders, then they headed over to my sedan and emptied it of its contents. If I wasn’t so stressed about my new plans for the evening, I would have been more than amused by the sight of a cop and a paramedic, both fully clad in their hot, manly uniforms, carting my gigantic purse, an even bigger cross, and a decorative pillow across one of the main arteries in Fort Wayne. Even with all that was on my mind, it still got me as far as a grin. Which I promptly erased from my face as they drew near.
Chris had grabbed my purse, which was now stuffed full with the contents of my visor, my center console, and my glove box. He pulled open my door and deposited it at my feet.
“Don’t say a word, Grace,” he warned.
I bit my tongue, then watched as Will struggled to wedge the wrought iron cross in the back of his cruiser. The pillow got thrown onto the seat beside it, a muttered curse sounding through the interior of the car before all was quiet again.
Though I expected Will to get in the car, he circled around front and met up with Chris again. They spent the next few minutes discussing something as I watched through the windshield and tried to decipher the conversation using context clues. Will ran his hands through his mop of hair more than once, they both turned to look at me, but I couldn’t read anything more into it than I was the subject - something I already knew.
I debated reaching across the cabin to honk the horn at them. Police cars still had horns, didn’t they? Or was it just lights and sirens? No matter. I figured that they did, and that using it would get me nice and familiar with the angry side of a certain officer. And I’d never have the nerve to ask for future reference. Besides, how many times did a civilian sit in the front seat of a cop car anyway?
I didn’t know much about the logistics of accident clean up, but I assumed that eventually everyone would move and allow traffic to get back to normal. I figured the guys had at least until the wreckage was hauled away to hash out whatever they were discussing, and then we’d be on our merry way. That decided, I settled back against the headrest and allowed my eyes to slip shut.
Which meant I jumped about a country mile when the driver’s side door flew open and Will sat down beside me. He hadn’t noticed that I’d been nodding off; he spoke to me as if we’d been right in the middle of a conversation ourselves and were merely picking up where we left off.
“You probably should have gone with Chris,” he stated to my utter disappointment. “At least that way you could have gotten a prescription for some good drugs. Do you have anything at home?”
“What?” I blinked a couple of times to clear my head. Had he just asked me what I thought he had? “Matthew’s the one with a history of possession of narcotics, not me.”
I could practically hear the eye rolling coming from the driver’s seat. He turned off the flashing red and blue lights on top of our ride, reversed just enough to clear the debris that still littered the pavement, and pulled out into traffic. I took one final look at what was left of my car and we were off.
“I meant ibuprofen, aspirin, anything like that,” he clarified. “You’re going to need it.”
He took my silence to mean exactly what it did - no - and promptly drove us to the drugstore on the way to my house. Again, I moved to exit the car and again he stopped me.
“Darling, you’re covered in blood and bruises. You’re not going in there. People will think I beat you or something.”
“So you’re just going to walk in there with your gun and your handcuffs like you’re a casual shopper?”
He shrugged. “I’m a cop. What else would I do?”
I reached down for my purse to give him some money, debating if I had enough cash on me to pay for anything. Could I give him my debit card? My credit card? Would the cashier question a police officer using someone else’s plastic? God, my head hurt.
“Don’t. I’ve got it.”
With that, he was gone. He returned just a few moments later with a small plastic bag in tow, which he handed over to me proudly. I snatched it from him, knowing that I should be grateful but feeling anything but.
“Hungry?” he asked next.
I shook my head even as my stomach growled. Lunch time had been forgotten for obvious reasons, but my body was back to reminding me with a vengeance.
“Too bad, because I’m starving. Someone interrupted me going to get something to eat.”
He selected the burger place across the street from the drugstore, sliding into the drive through as if we weren’t horribly ostentatious and that there was nothing wrong with any of this picture. He ordered for the both of us, not asking me what it was that I wanted. Instead, my usual choice rolled off his tongue like he requested it all the time, down to the whole without onions part.
My hands clenched into fists at my sides, afraid to read into that too much.
He passed me over the food, which I secured on my lap the rest of the way home. We didn’t say another word to each other, though it was only about ten minutes or so before we pulled into my driveway.
I snuck a peek at him, admiring the way he appeared so at ease in my presence. Like I hadn’t walked out on him the last time we’d seen each other. As if he hadn’t been royally pissed off at me for my supposed trespasses. For being too clingy, for expecting too much from him. Anger bubbled up from where it had lain dormant in my body for so many weeks.
“Does putting on that uniform make you a giant dick, or did you just turn over a new leaf?”
It was the wrong thing to say and I knew it. There was no need to get combative with him, especially when he had bent over backwards to be nice with the pain meds and the food. To his credit, he chose to ignore it. At least partially. I saw the reaction flash across his face, ten thousand different feelings expressed in a split second, before the mask came back up and there was nothing.
“Keys,” he ordered quietly, holding out his palm.
I fished them out of my purse, then dropped them in his hand obediently.
“Stay here.”
He grabbed the food and drinks from me and took them with him. He unlocked my house like he owned the damn place, then disappeared inside. He returned seconds later to unload the remainder of my belongings, slipping inside once more, then finally coming back for me.
I
was quicker on the uptake this time, unbuckling my seatbelt as he came around the hood of the car. The door swung open. One hand reached out to take mine and help me out. The other closed around my purse, which he slung over his shoulder.
If Regina was watching all this, I was in trouble the next time I saw her.
“Are you good?” he asked me as I rose to my feet.
I nodded. Even so, he walked slightly behind me the whole way up my sidewalk and into my house, his arm hovering just behind my back, ready to catch me at the faintest bit of trouble. As soon as I crossed the threshold, he ordered me to sit on my couch. Then he was gone again, headed to the kitchen, where I heard a cabinet opening and closing and then the faucet running.
Just one cabinet, which reminded me of how well he knew me. He didn’t have to search through my stuff to find what he wanted. He had practically lived at my apartment for a few glorious weeks, during which time he learned a lot about me. Enough to know that I would keep the cabinets in my new place exactly the same way, only two hours further north.
A glass of water was in his hand when he walked back in. Wordlessly, he handed it over, then reached for the bag he’d gotten from the drugstore. He popped the bottle open, spilled two tablets into his hand and dispensed them into my palm.
“Take them.”
“I’m not sore.”
“You will be.”
“Fine.”
I slammed the pills into my mouth, glared at him as I put the water to my lips, then swallowed them down.
“Food now or later?” he asked, reaching out and taking the glass from me.
“Now. It’s getting cold as we speak.”
He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
Then back into the kitchen he went, leaving my head spinning.
“Make yourself at home,” I called out after him.
He didn’t answer me or address the sarcasm that dripped from my words. What he did do was remove his gun and handcuffs from his belt, set them on the table in my breakfast nook, then take off his shirt. When he emerged in the living room, he looked less cop and more just plain hot. So what if he wasn’t half naked - was it appropriate to call it a wife beater that he wore considering his career choice? I knew what the rest of him looked like, anyway.
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