Third Time's a Charm (Holland Springs #3)(2)

“Call me Sasha,” he’d said with a wicked grin, “All my friends do.”

Well, Sasha sure had a funny way of treating his friends. Why couldn’t someone else have found him? She had enough going on in her life without this. Him.

“Please?” he asked.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”





Sasha grunted. It was harder than she thought. He hated asking anyone for anything. He hated being helpless.

As she leaned forward to help him, black curls tumbled onto his blood, dirt and God-only-knew-what-else-covered chest. He had the urge to shove her away, desperate that this filth not touch her. Not even the silky tips of her hair.

The scent of night blooming jasmine drifted to him, displacing the odor of violence. He breathed deeply, then scanned the road. He found her Jeep up the small incline. “Four-wheel drive?”

“No, but I think that between the two of us, we can get you to it. The closest hospital is fifty minutes away, but—”

“No, no hospital. It looks much worse than it is.” Turning to his good leg, he put most of his weight on it, then tried the other. A fresh wave of pain rose over him and he had to clench his teeth from crying out.

Rose’s arms came around him, her slight form a human crutch. Suddenly, she stood, ramming his dislocated shoulder back in place.

His vision blackened, stars sparked and he shouted, “Son of a bitch!” Breathing through his nose, he fought down the nausea.

She looked up, her eyes shadowed. Did she feel any pity for him? Anything at all? Did he want her pity? Oh, good God, this was quickly turning into a let’s-talk-about-our-feelings moment. Although it was all in his head. Yeah, because having conversations with oneself is entirely sane.

“Do you want me to take you to your cousin’s house?” she asked.

“He’s not home and I don’t have a key.” And as things stood, he wasn’t welcome there.

Her arms tightened around him. “Can you still make it to my Jeep?”

Nodding once, he began to hobble towards the small SUV. Of course, he could do this.

He’d done it before.

***

The ride into the backwoods town of Holland Springs wasn’t as bad as he thought. It was worse. Every pothole and bump served to remind him of how his new motto of “Just say no” got the living hell beat out of him.

However, there were just some things a man didn’t do. Like be a sperm donor for some eighty-year-old nutter with a twenty-year-old trophy wife because he needed an heir for his empire. No matter how painful the consequences.

Now that he’d been properly punished, he’d get some time off before his uncle tried to persuade Sasha to his way of thinking again. And next time, Sasha knew, Vladimir would pull out the big guns.

“I need to change, and you need a shower,” Rose said, wrinkling her nose as she parked the Jeep behind her store. “There’s a bathroom on the second floor you can use. The store used to be a house and there’s a studio apartment upstairs. We mainly use it for storage.”

“You can wash me up next time, dear.” He gave her a suggestive smile and tried to wiggle his brows, but it hurt too damn much to follow through. Moving his shoulder experimentally, he opened the door and braced for a sharp pain, but there was only a dull ache.

By the time he managed to get out of Rose’s Jeep, she had the back door propped open. Exhausted, he waited for her to come to him, her sweet body his personal rock of Gibraltar.

“Lean on me.”

Lean on her? He wanted to crawl all over her, caress every curve and take her to bed—the way he’d wanted to a month ago.

“It’s only a few steps,” she coaxed. “You can do it.”

Eventually, they made it up the stairs and to the bathroom. He leaned against the wall as she prepared the shower and brought in a chair from the other room.

“Thought you might need this.” She stood there, one hand on the chair and the other at the base of her throat.

He sank down on it gratefully, almost too weary to undress himself. But pride made him shoo her from the room, then he texted his uncle and got a reply a few seconds later. He had forty-five minutes to be ready. Sooner than Sasha thought it would be.

Grimacing, he made his fingers work the buttons of his shirt and pants. Getting his damn trousers off was the hardest part and he nearly asked Rose to help him.

“I need to go get you some clothes. I’ll be right back, okay?” she called out as he stepped into the tub, one agonizing limb at a time.

“Brilliant.” Hot water hit his face, making the cut on his lip sting. He stood under the shower head until it become a dull throb. Until his battered and bruised body began to relax. He must have fallen asleep standing up, because the next thing he knew, Rose was calling his name. His eyes popped open.

“Sasha?”

“I’m fine, Rose.”

He didn’t sound fine. Rose peeled off her muddy clothes and shoved them into a plastic grocery bag. She dropped the bag by the door to the stairs and shivered in the air-conditioning. Quickly dressing in the middle of the makeshift storage room, she pulled on a pair of faded jeans and a green t-shirt she’d found in the back of her jeep, not quite sure what do with the very naked man showering only a few feet away.

“Rosebud, I need you,” he yelled at the same time she heard a loud thunk.