Protecting What's Mine(42)

“Leg? Ankle?” He slipped an arm around her waist.

“It’s fine. Just a tweak. If you pick me up right now, I swear to God I will murder you.”

“Got it. Stoic support only,” he said, taking her waist.

“Need a hand?” someone called out.

A paramedic, another firefighter, and the sheriff himself helped haul them both back up to the road. Skinny was cuffed and slumped against the wheel of the police cruiser. Mack could make out the team loading the patient aboard.

“I gotta go,” she insisted. But she gave Linc’s arm a hard squeeze.

“You better call me, Dreamy!”

She threw a wave of acknowledgement over her shoulder and jog-limped toward the waiting bird.

She didn’t realize it until she was climbing aboard in considerable pain. Skinny was missing a front tooth now, too.

She slammed the headset over her ears. “Let’s rock and roll, RS.”

With her focus on the patient, she didn’t notice Linc watching the chopper until it disappeared.





Linc: Status update?





Linc: Hotshot paging Dr. Dreamy.





Linc: At least tell me if you made it back to the hospital or if you crash landed in a pasture full of goats.





Mack: Made it back. TBI for the patient.





Linc: Fuck.





Mack: My sentiments.





Linc: How are you? You were limping pretty good.





Mack: Fine.





Linc: Stop talking my ear off, doc.





Mack: It’s nothing serious. Just getting checked out in the ED.





Linc: Text me when you get home.





Mack: I won’t be up for company.





Linc: Understood. Just want to make sure you’re home safe.





Mack: Home now.





Linc: Sweet dreams, Dreamy. Text if you need anything.





20





Linc rapped lightly on the bright blue cottage door. Sunshine’s tail swished expectantly against his leg. It was early. Before seven a.m. But he knew she was up.

He heard a slow clump clump clump approaching from the other side of the door and flashed the peephole his most charming grin.

The door didn’t open.

“Open up, Dreamy. I know you’re in there.”

There was another beat of silence. Sunshine, tired of waiting for adoration, jumped and planted her paws against the sidelight window to announce her presence.

Linc considered it a point in Mack’s favor when she opened the door for his dog.

There was a frown on her pretty face and a walking boot on her left foot.

“Nothing serious, huh?” he asked.

Sunshine happily trotted inside and disappeared.

“What do you want?” Mack asked grumpily.

She had a good bruise on her cheek from that skinny asshole’s fist that made Linc wish he’d done a hell of a lot more than knock a tooth out. A bandage peeked out from under the sleeve of her sweatshirt. He imagined her clothing hid a multitude of bruises and scrapes.

“I came to join the party,” he said, brushing past her.

“What party?”

“Your pity party.”

He hefted the grocery tote.

“I’m not having a pity party,” she insisted.

The whole place screamed cute little grandma. The couch that Sunshine had already made herself at home on was a faded buttercup yellow with embroidered throw pillows. The built-ins in the living room were crammed with paperbacks and ceramic knickknacks. The TV was entirely too small for the space, and the stand that held it was stenciled with violets.

He’d bet money there was a cookie jar in the kitchen and lace doilies on at least one piece of furniture upstairs. Nothing in the room reflected the sexy, heroic doctor who had taken up residence.

“What’s the verdict, doc?” he asked, crossing the living room and stepping into the minuscule kitchen. He plopped his bag of goodies on the counter.

He heard the uneven clumping follow him into the room.

“Linc,” she sighed out his name in a way that brought bedroom fantasies to mind. “What are you doing in my house?”

He nudged her down in one of the two chairs at the table barely big enough to hold one dinner plate. “I’m bein’ neighborly. It’s a small-town, nice-person thing.” When she didn’t spring back up out of the chair, he knew she was tired. “Heard you’re out of commission.”

Glumly, she rested her chin on her hand. “Avulsion fracture. Ankle. I’m officially grounded. I can’t fly with the boot.”

Hurt, frustrated, and bored. He got it.

He pulled the box of green tea out of the bag and filled the electric kettle with water.

“That sucks,” he said succinctly and plugged in the kettle.

“What sucks is that girl’s traumatic brain injury,” she said, bubbling over with frustration. “No one has good taste in men at that age, and yet she’s paying the price. They don’t know if she’ll ever wake up, let alone resume a normal life. And now I know that they don’t know because everyone in this damn town knows every damn thing.”