The Slot (Rochester Riot #1)(54)

A nurse came in to check his vitals.

“What’s wrong with me?” he asked.

“I’ve paged the doctor so he should be here soon,” she chastised. “You were lucky you weren’t seriously injured or killed. No broken bones, no internal injuries. You’re just bruised and battered which will heal in a few weeks. What’s your pain level?”

“A hundred and two.”

She smiled and pushed some meds into his I.V. “This should help. Just hit the buzzer if you need anything before the doctor arrives. You should be able to go home in the morning.”





Chapter 4

“I can probably argue this down to a misdemeanor but that’s going to take time,” Adam’s agent, Harold Tucker sat next to his hospital bed wearing his famous ‘you’ve seriously f*cked up again’ expression. “And money.”

Adam squeezed his eyes shut against the waves of embarrassment. Harry had been his agent since he was drafted and this was the first time they’d had this type of uncomfortable conversation.

“I know,” Adam sighed as he opened his lids to find Harry staring down at him with empathy instead of censure. “I guess I’m lucky I was injured so I didn’t have to face the humiliation of the Nick Nolte mugshot and fingerprinting by Duluth’s finest.”

Harry snapped his briefcase shut after collecting some signatures. “I took care of it. You won’t even have to go to the station. Since the semi driver wasn’t injured, this is a civil case.”

“He’s suing me then?” Adam questioned. “I realize I should never have gotten behind the wheel even to drive one farm over but isn’t he just out a new truck and a load of corn? Things covered by commercial insurance?”

Harry took his reading glasses off and shoved them in his interior jacket pocket as he speared Adam with a stern look. “Doesn’t matter. You’re rich. He’s not. Welcome to the world of professional hockey, my boy. Add to it all the fact that you were drinking and I have a huge mess to clean up as well as a PR nightmare. Maybe I can get the public to feel sorry for you because of …”

Harry waved his hand to Adam’s legs underneath the sheet.

“What?”

“The injury.”

Adam looked away. Sick and damn tired of being reminded that he didn’t play in the NHL anymore. “No.”

“No, what?”

“No, I’m not playing on people’s sympathies about my career. Even to avoid a payday for The Jolly Green Giant.”

“Don’t let anyone else but me hear you talk like that, Adam,” Harry chided. “I’m in your corner. Other people … they tend to like to beat a man when he’s down.”

***

It hadn’t been difficult to get her number. Being famous sometimes had a few perks. Thoughts of her had consumed him the entire night in the hospital. That and a compelling need to understand why she’d been sleeping in his hospital room.

Texting her with the pathetic excuse that he had no one to pick him up and take him to the salvage yard had worked like a charm. Julia Wales was nice. Too nice for the likes of him.

“Need a lift?” Julia called out the window with a smile as she pulled into the pick-up zone of the hospital. Damn the fact that her first sight of him today was in a wheelchair. Like an invalid. Not the mental image he wanted her to have of him. He wanted to be the star of her fantasies. The ones she had at night alone in her bed. Or maybe she wasn’t alone? Shit. He hadn’t even thought about a boyfriend or husband.

As she came around her Escape to help with the clear plastic drawstring bag with his bloodstained clothes, he glanced at her left hand. Empty. There was hope.

“Nice scrubs,” she commented with a laugh. “Couldn’t Heather or Mark bring you a change of clothes for the ride home?”

“I’m alone,” he replied as he clutched the plastic bag in his blue cotton clad lap. “There is no Heather. No Mark.”

She glanced over, her face a mask of confused concern. “Want to talk about it?”

“No.”

He instantly regretted the surly tone. This woman was going out of her way to help him. And her mere presence … well, it lit up this shitty day like the December sun on a fresh snow.

It was a beautiful Friday afternoon without a cloud in the sky. Chilly but not too bad. He needed to steer the conversation in a safe direction and also let her know he wasn’t a complete *.

“I’ve been hearing great things about you from the locals,” he commented. “They say what you did with the Miller barn conversion is nothing short of miraculous. Tilly Miller said it’s booked solid for weddings every Saturday for the entire year. I’m going to have to go over there and check it out.”

Julia’s face lit up at the compliment. Adam could tell she was passionate about her business. Judging by the photos he’d seen on her website and the ravings of the people in town, she had every right to be proud. She’d accomplished a lot in twenty-five years and she was just getting started.

“So, where to?” she asked as she eased away from the curb.

“The salvage yard,” he offered. “I need to get some things out of my truck. Then the farm.”

“Is there another vehicle there for you to drive?” She giggled and he found the sound intoxicating. “Besides the combine?”