Minutes to Kill (Scarlet Falls #2)(48)

“What can I say? I was raised by my grandparents.” Brody steered the car down the spiraling ramp.

“Where did you grow up?”

He lowered his window and punched out with his credit card. “Boston. My parents died in a small-plane crash when I was little.”

“I’m sorry.” Hannah reclined her seat a few inches.

“I was only three. I don’t remember them.”

“Do your grandparents still live in Boston?”

“No. Gran had a stroke nine years ago. Granddad didn’t last six months without her.”

“That’s sad and sweet at the same time.”

Brody drove out of town. Listening to the traffic report, he exited the city via the Lincoln Tunnel, threaded his way through North Jersey to I-87. Once they were on the interstate, the highway opened up. “I don’t miss city traffic.”

Hannah didn’t respond. Brody glanced over. Her eyes were closed, but even sleeping, she looked stressed. He bet the news from the doctor wasn’t what she had wanted to hear.

He turned on the radio but kept the volume low as he tuned his satellite radio to a classic rock station. Three hours later, at six o’clock, darkness had fallen, and Hannah was still asleep, her head lolling against the seat rest. The trip into New York had taken its toll. He couldn’t imagine the toll a six-hour round-trip train commute would have had on her.

He passed the green sign for Scarlet Falls and eased onto the exit. The car bounced over seams in the blacktop. Hannah jerked awake.

“We’re almost home,” Brody said.

She blinked and swept a hand through her short blond locks. It settled back into place as if it knew to obey orders. “God, I’m sorry. I slept through the whole drive.”

“You were tired. I’m glad you slept. That was the whole point of me driving you.”

But Hannah frowned. Obviously, she wasn’t used to letting anyone take care of her.

“Are you going to tell me what the doctor actually said?”

Hannah stretched. “I need coffee.”

“You need food. We skipped lunch.”

She pressed the pads of her fingers to her closed eyelids. “I’m not hungry.”

“Headache?”

“No. The nap cleared that up.”

“What then?”

“I need coffee.”

“Seriously. How are you? You looked a little rough coming out of the doctor’s office.”

“You are persistent.”

He smiled.

Hannah sighed. “I failed the cognitive test, and my balance is off, but considering it’s only been a few days since I was knocked down, the doctor says I’m recovering as she’d expect.”

“But?”

“Regardless of what her tests said, I feel fine, and she still won’t clear me for work.”

“Oh.”

“She won’t even retest me for another month. I was supposed to be in London next week working with one of the firm’s largest clients,” she said.

“Were you looking forward to that?” Brody wasn’t sure how he felt about her, but the thought of her leaving Scarlet Falls depressed him. Hannah was the first woman to interest him in a long, long time. Every time he thought he had her figured out, she threw him a curveball. The first time he’d met her, he’d thought her arrogant, aloof, and cold. But he couldn’t have been more wrong. She’d grieved her brother and stood by her family, proving to be smart and loyal, stubborn to a fault. In a heartbeat, she could shift from sharp corporate attorney to affectionate aunt. When a man had attempted to snatch her little nephew, Hannah had chased the scumbag. Barefoot. With snow on the ground. Her foot had been bleeding, and she hadn’t even noticed.

Complex was the only word for Hannah. She was a puzzle he wanted to solve but not in any rush. He wanted to take his time and get to know all her layers. The strength of that desire surprised him. His ex-wife only had two layers. At the first challenge, her pretty veneer had peeled back faster than steamed wallpaper.

For a long minute, Hannah simply stared out the window. “I thought so, but now I’m not so sure. I couldn’t wait to get out of Vegas.”

Brody brightened. “You won’t lose your job?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Royce won’t fire me. I’m not worried about that.”

“Then what’s the problem? Take some time off. Make sure you’re completely recovered. You don’t want to go back at less than one hundred percent, right? Poor performance wouldn’t help your career, and it’s not worth risking your health.”

“It doesn’t look like I have an option.” She glanced at him. Her brow lowered. “I don’t back away from anything easily. The Colonel raised me to identify my objectives and devote my efforts to achieving them, to work around, over, or through obstacles. All my life I’ve had to scratch and fight for what I wanted. Now I’m not sure what I want, but the instinct to do battle is still there. Without a goal, I feel lost.” She flushed and blinked away, as if embarrassed by her revelation.

“How about if I give you a task?” He eased the car around a curve. “Decide what you want for dinner.”

“Coffee.” She arched a challenging brow.

“I’ll stop for coffee if you tell me what you want to eat.”