The Redo (Winslow Brothers #4) (33)

“Well…” I look at him with wide eyes and a smile that’s equal parts terrified and amused. “I don’t think she’s going to be happy that I didn’t call her.”

Instead, the nice nurse in the ER was the one to let her know her eldest daughter broke her arm while verifying insurance information and parental permission to be casted by the good doctor. Pretty sure I’m about to get an earful of anger and worry and disappointment when I walk through the door.

I did end up talking to her, more so to calm her down and so she didn’t burst through the hospital doors like a madwoman than anything else, but still. I at least did that.

Thankfully, her inability to leave work at a moment’s notice gave me more time with Remy. And after she talked to his mother on the phone, she gave a disgruntled go-ahead for him to drive me home.

Well, you better bring your ass right home, were her exact words.

Considering Carmen Baros never curses, it’s safe to say, I have a heap of trouble waiting for me.

“I should’ve told you to call her first.” He grimaces. “You were just in so much pain, all I could think about was getting you to the ER.”

He just might be the sweetest guy I’ve ever met.

“Don’t be silly. You helped out a lot by getting my mom in touch with your mom.”

“Just so you know, Wendy Winslow wasn’t too thrilled with me either,” he says through a half laugh, half grimace. “I’m not really supposed to be driving everywhere on my own yet. I only have my permit.”

“Eek. Looks like we both have long nights ahead of us.”

He nods dramatically. “Yeah.”

“Thanks again for…everything,” I tell him for what has to be the one-hundredth time of the evening. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you today. You saved my butt.”

“You can stop thanking me. I wanted to help.”

“No, I should definitely thank you. Like a million times, in fact. I owe you big-time, Remy,” I say, wishing I could repay him for his kindness. “If you ever get hurt or something and need someone to drive you to the ER, I’m your gal,” I say. But then quickly add, “But obviously, I hope I can help you in a different way that doesn’t involve you getting an injury. I definitely don’t want that. But if an injury would occur, which I definitely don’t want that to happen, I’m not the gal who can physically drive you because that would be illegal unless it happens two years from now, but I’ll definitely be the gal who will call you a cab and keep you company.”

Oh my God, what is wrong with you? You sound insane.

I almost cringe at my nearly incoherent ramble, but when an amused laugh jumps from Remy’s lungs, I find myself smiling instead.

“Sounds perfect, Maria,” he says, smiling right back at me. “I’ll mark you down as my emergency contact if cab transportation is an option.”

I giggle. “Great.”

Silence stretches between us, and when I look down at my cast again, I get an idea.

“So…” I pause and hold out my arm. “Do you want to sign my cast?”

He grins. “You want me to be your first?”

You want me to be your first? That question plays in my mind on a loop, and I can’t help but wish Remy would be my first for a lot of things. Not all of which my mother would approve of.

“Yes, please,” I answer and hold out the black Sharpie one of the nurses in the ER was nice enough to give me before I was discharged.

“I’m honored, Maria,” he says, but then a secret grin kisses his perfect mouth. “But my signature comes with stipulations.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“I’ll sign your cast,” he explains. “But only if you give me your number.”

My heart dances inside my chest. “You want my phone number?”

“Yeah,” he says with the kind of smile that makes my stomach feel all gooey inside. “I have to make sure you’re going to follow through with our some-other-time plans.”

“Are you asking me out after I’ve already asked you out, just to make sure we go out, Remington Winslow?” I tease, using his earlier words, and it’s no surprise to me that he takes it in confident stride.

“Maria, I am most definitely asking you out after you’ve asked me out to make sure we go out. Soon.”

Holy moly. He’s asking me out! Remington Winslow wants to go out with me! My inner cheerleader does three flips in the air. Although, I’m certain she actually manages to stick the landing.

“You have a deal.” I hand him the marker.

He grins at me from beneath his lashes as he takes the Sharpie from my hand and writes his name on my cast. His handwriting looks exactly how a boy’s handwriting should look. A combination of messy and sharp, and I don’t know why I like it so much.

Once he dots his “i’s” and crosses his “t,” he gives the marker back to me and holds out the palm of his right hand.

“Your number please, milady.”

I giggle, thinking he’s joking, but when he doesn’t move his palm from its outstretched position, my jaw nearly hits the tops of my thighs. “But…but this is a permanent marker?”

“Exactly,” he says. “No way I’m going to risk losing Maria Baros’s number.”