Chapter Twelve
CHAPTER TWELVE
Keeley had a moment thinking she actually did have a concussion or had hit her head hard enough to become delusional. No way had Owen Hardesty kissed her. It was brief, it was a bit rough, but her tingling lips told her it wasn’t her imagination.
She had big questions that should take precedence over everything else. Like who’d mugged her and why. But in that moment, whether her crush liked her was all she could focus on. She could hardly wait for him to buckle his seatbelt and start the Bronco before asking, “Yes, as in you friend like me, or yes, as in you like me like me?”
“ That one. Text Abby, tell her I’m taking you to the clinic. Then call dispatch and tell them to send the responding officer there to get your statement.”
He drove toward the clinic. She would’ve believed he was calm, sitting back in his seat, driving with easy competence, except for the tension around his eyes.
Underneath the cool exterior she suspected was a mountain of rage. She wasn’t sure where that rage was directed, but she knew it wasn’t toward her.
Thank god, because she had all sorts of warm tingles dancing along her skin, and him being mad at her would ruin them.
She contemplated his response. “Wait, if you like me, why have you always treated me like I’m a disagreeable pain in your butt? ”
“ Because you are a pain in my butt. You stir me up when I don’t want to be stirred up. But, princess? We’re not talking about this now. Do what I told you to do.”
Rolling her eyes was a mistake because it made her head hurt. “You are one frustrating man,” she muttered.
She put the bloody tissue on her lap and got out her phone. She texted her mom that she was on her way to the clinic, and then made the call to dispatch.
A wet trickle on her forehead told her the wound had started bleeding again.
“ There’s a bandanna in the glovebox. It’s clean. Use that.”
She found the bandanna and flipped down the visor to use the mirror. Even though it made her look like a retro hippie chick from the 80s, she folded the bandanna into a headband and tied it around her head.
Owen parked in the brightly lit parking lot behind the clinic. She opened the door and he rounded the hood. When he looked ready to scoop her up in his arms again, she put up a hand. “Nope, I’m walking in.”
If she was cradled in his arms again, she might refuse to let him go.
The automatic sliding doors of the clinic opened and they walked in and joined the short line to check in. Keeley glanced around. A couple leaning against each other dozed on a bench. An elderly man held the hand of an equally elderly woman as he walked with her to the waiting nurse. And a twenty-something young man wearing sunglasses sat with a shoeless, swollen foot propped on another chair.
There was nothing more depressing than an emergency room in the middle of the night.
Sitting next to Owen under the ugly fluorescent lighting, she filled out paperwork attached to a clipboard. With her insurance card in the possession of the thief, she gave silent thanks her primary doctor was with the clinic, which meant her information was already in their system.
The triage nurse who introduced himself as Juan called her in fairly quickly. She tried not to look surprised when Owen rose to come with her.
He caught her look. “I’m making sure you don’t sweet-talk them out of stitches.”
“ Why would I do that?”
“ I know you. You can be stubborn.”
She was still shaking her head over that when Juan took her vitals. Her blood pressure and heart rate were higher than normal, but she attributed that to Owen’s broody presence. The man wound her up.
Juan confirmed that yes, indeed, she needed stitches and she’d be called back shortly. Owen snagged a packet of wipes, and when they got back to their seats in the waiting room, he tipped up her chin and used the wipes to clean the blood from her face. Given the dark stain on the wipes, she must’ve looked like an extra in a horror movie.
Owen’s touch was gentle despite his jaw clenching hard enough she thought he was in danger of cracking a molar.
“ Are you okay? You seem tense.”
His gaze dropped to hers and she caught her breath. That rage she’d thought he was bottling up? It looked ready to break loose and wreak havoc.
She gripped his wrist. “Owen.”
He leaned toward her, his expression fierce. “Someone hurt you, so no, I’m not fucking okay. I’m going to find who’s responsible and make sure they never touch you again.”
Hoo boy.
A deputy she didn’t recognize came in, and Owen pulled back the anger. He rose to speak to her, then they came to where Keeley was seated. The officer introduced herself as Deputy Beth Guerrero. Keeley went over what had happened and gave all the details of her assailant she could remember, then answered a boatload of questions. Owen brought the deputy up to speed with what had happened Sunday night.
By the time Beth left, Keeley felt like all the energy had been sapped from her body. Her shoulder throbbed, her head throbbed even more, and all she wanted to do was go home to sleep. Waiting to be called back, she leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes, letting her mind drift.
She must’ve fallen asleep because the next thing she knew Owen was speaking in her ear. “C’mon, princess, they’re calling you.”
She blinked her eyes open and found his face inches from hers. An arm around her shoulders held her close to his side and her head rested on his shoulder. How had that happened?
Her name was called again and Owen pulled her to her feet.
Thirty minutes later a PA named Anayah was pressing a bandage over what she assured Keeley was a neat row of stitches that shouldn’t leave much of a scar. Keeley hadn’t wanted to look in the mirror. Owen’s low voice carried from the hall where he’d gone to use his phone.
“ I gave your cute boyfriend a bag of supplies,” Anayah said. “Keep the wound dry and covered with a bandage for at least two days. See your primary, or come back to the clinic if there’s any sign of infection.
“ We don’t think you have a concussion, but if you develop any of the symptoms we talked about, same thing, see your primary or come back. Any questions?”
Keeley shook her head slowly, not sure if she should correct the boyfriend comment.
“ Don’t worry, hon. You’re tired. I gave the boyfriend the same information so you’re in good hands.”
Oh geez. “Um, he’s not really my boyfriend.”
Anayah laughed. “I’d say it’s only a matter of time then. Let that cutie take you home, get some Tylenol in your system, and get some sleep. ”
They stepped into the hall and Owen draped an arm over her shoulders, pulling her into his side.
Anayah gave her a laughing goodbye. “Right, not your boyfriend,” she whispered so only Keeley could hear.
Owen shoved his phone into his pocket. “I gave Abby an update. She’s going back to bed now.”
Keeley yawned. “Good, because Dad will be up early no matter what. Thank goodness Mrs. Troung is coming in tomorrow so Mom will have help.”
He didn’t speak as they drove through the night. He parked the Bronco in front of her garage, got out, and rounded the hood to her door, steadying her when she slid out of the vehicle.
“ Give me your keys.”
She should’ve known he wouldn’t drop her off and leave.
His head swiveled, gaze searching the area as they made their way to the cottage door. He unlocked the door and had her wait in the entry while he conducted a search.
She hated feeling vulnerable. Hated that the attack made her scared of sleeping alone. She could always go to her parents’ house and spend the night in the guest room.
The whole thing had her completely pissed off. She should be able to sleep in her own home without feeling afraid.
“ All clear.” Owen reached behind her and turned the dead bolt on the door.
Maybe she was getting punchy because she stared at him in confusion. “How are you getting out if the door’s locked?”
His grin flashed, breaking the tension that seemed to have settled around him. “You’re exhausted, princess. Go get ready for bed.”
“ What are you going to do?”
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Stay with you. I’m not leaving you alone after what happened.”
“ I’ll be okay. She got my purse. I don’t think she’s still a threat. I wish I knew why she wanted my purse, but that’s what she was after. ”
“ We’ll talk tomorrow.”
As much as she wanted to go straight to bed, she crossed the living room to the alcove where she had a desk and a two-drawer filing cabinet. She only had two credit cards so it shouldn’t take long to contact the companies.
She finished one call with the happy news nothing had been charged, then dialed the next. The agent was competent, sincerely sympathetic for her awful night, and confirmed that nothing had been charged with that card either.
Plugging in her phone next to her bed, Keeley yawned again, suddenly so tired she could hardly keep her eyes open.
In the bathroom for an abbreviated bedtime routine, she finally gave in and looked at her reflection in the mirror.
Oh lord, she looked like a hot mess.
All color had leached from her skin, making her eyes look overly large with dark smudges under them to give her a hollowed-out look.
The bruising around the bandage on her forehead had turned an ugly purple. She brushed her teeth thinking she needed to find blankets for Owen to use on the couch.
Rinsing her mouth, she exited the bathroom. Not seeing him, she went to her bedroom. And came to a screeching stop in the doorway.
He’d taken off his shoes and pulled back the bedding and now that long body was stretched out on one side of the bed, hands behind his head as he rested against a pillow. He still wore his jeans, but with his arms stretched up a thin strip of muscled abs was revealed.
His eyes were closed, but they popped open when she threw a pillow squarely at his chest, one of the small decorative pillows he’d shoved onto the floor. “What the hell are you doing?” he grumbled.
“ What the hell am I doing? What the hell are you doing in my bed?”
“ I told you I was staying.”
“ Yeah, on the couch. ”
“ Your couch is a loveseat and at least three feet too short for me. No thanks. Your bed’s a full size. Barely adequate, but it’s miles better than the couch.”
She closed her eyes against the headache the Tylenol had yet to reach. Opening them tiredly, she said, “Look, I know Mom asked you to look after me and I appreciate you taking that to heart and making me go to the clinic even when I didn’t want to. Truly I do. But, Owen, you looking after me doesn’t extend to sleeping in my bed. I need to sleep in my bed.”
“ There’s room for both of us.” He sat up, swinging his feet to the floor. “Look, princess, until I can get a security system installed, I’m sticking close. Right now, that means you and I are sharing this bed.”
She opened her mouth to object, but he held up a finger. “We’re both exhausted. I promise I can keep my hands to myself. You’re safe from being attacked in your sleep.”
“ Don’t make fun of me.”
“ How is that making fun of you?” Exasperation edged his tone.
“ If you don’t know, I’m not explaining it to you.” She hated resorting to such a juvenile response, but she was too tired to find the words to explain.
“ For fuck’s sake. You got an extra toothbrush?”
She nodded. “I left one out on the bathroom counter.”
He disappeared, and she considered her options. She was tired, they both were, and Owen made her feel safe. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, the attack had rattled her and she didn’t want to be alone. As he’d told her before, she needed to deal.
Owen returned. He turned his back and undid his belt, dropping his jeans to the floor. He slid between the sheets, jammed a pillow under his head and lay on his side facing the wall. He pulled up the covers and she was surprised he didn’t start snoring immediately.
Whatever.
Retrieving her pajamas from under her pillow, she retreated to the bathroom to change. With flannel pants and a long-sleeved t-shirt decorated on the front with a sleepy sloth hanging from a tree and the words “Slow Moving in the Morning,” she looked more like a survivor of the zombie apocalypse than anything remotely sexy.
She didn’t have the energy reserves to argue any further about the sleeping arrangements. They’d sleep side by side and she probably wouldn’t even notice that he was there.
Of course she noticed he was there. A half hour later she flipped onto her back for probably the hundredth time and let out a heavy sigh. Apparently, exhaustion didn’t guarantee sleep.
She was too aware of the man lying next to her to relax. He smelled good. His deep, even breaths were mesmerizing, and he threw off heat like one of those radiant heaters for patio dining.
After she flipped her pillow one more time, Owen turned to his back with an arm stretched over his head. In the faint glow from a nightlight, she saw the shadow of his arm as he brought up his hand to jam his fingers through his hair.
“ I’m sorry I’m keeping you awake,” she whispered.
He sighed, then turned so he was facing her. “Come here.” He wrapped his hand around her waist to tug her snugly into the curve of his body, his arms going around her. He whispered in her ear, “Now relax, darlin’, and go to sleep.”
With the feeling that life couldn’t get much better, surprisingly, she did just that.