Chapter 2 #2
“Okay,” Stephanie said.
As they worked out the logistics, Grant held back the growing need to puke.
“I was going to tell you guys that since Joe and Janey are stuck here, they’re coming over to open their wedding gifts tonight. We’re making a tropical storm party out of it, so come on over.”
Grant moaned, reminding them of his injury.
“Stop being such a baby,” Stephanie said. “It’s a scratch.”
Mac laughed and sent Grant a sympathetic smile. “I’ll leave you in good hands, bro. Let me know how you make out at the clinic.”
That’s when it hit him that he’d be relying upon Abby’s fiancé to stitch him up. “Never mind,” Grant said. “I’m not going there.”
“The hell you aren’t,” his bossy older brother said. “You want me to call Mom and sic her on you?”
“You wouldn’t do that.”
“Wanna bet? You need stitches and probably a tetanus shot. Don’t be a fool.”
“I’ve got him.” Stephanie manhandled him out of the chair and had him on the way to his father’s truck before Grant even knew what hit him. She was awfully strong for such a skinny chick. Rummaging around in his shorts pocket for the keys, she rubbed against his package, startling him.
“Watch what you’re grabbing, will ya?”
“Nothing I haven’t already seen.”
“Don’t remind me,” he muttered and then wanted to shoot himself for being so flippant as a flash of pain darted across her face. It was gone as fast as it came.
She slammed the car door, narrowly missing his foot. The wind and rain followed her into the driver’s seat.
“Just take me back to Janey’s. I don’t need to go to the clinic. I can take care of it at home.”
Stephanie didn’t say a word as she started the truck, adjusted all the mirrors and cautiously shifted the truck into drive.
“You do have a license, don’t you?”
“Of course I do.”
“Then why’re you driving like an eighty-year-old?”
“Because we’re in the midst of a tropical storm, in case you failed to notice, and this is your father’s truck. I don’t want anything to happen to it.”
“He’s used to things happening to his trucks. He had five kids driving them at one point or another.”
“Nothing will happen to it while I’m driving. Now be quiet so I can concentrate.”
Grant wanted to remind her that his family employed her, but since he’d already acted like enough of a jerk around her, he kept his silence—until she took a right toward the clinic rather than a left toward Janey’s. “Wait a minute! I said I want to go home!”
“And I said you need stitches.”
“You’re not the boss of me!”
“What’re you? Three? Did Thomas teach you that?” She referred to Mac and Maddie’s three-year-old son. “I heard him say that to his father at the wedding.”
Fuming, Grant had to force himself to stay calm. “I’m not going in the clinic.”
“I’ll call your mother.”
He spun around in the seat to stare at her. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me. I love Linda. I have her number on speed dial.”
“You’re the devil.”
“Sticks and stones . . .”
Grant had never had a more ridiculous conversation. He was about to make a second attempt to talk her out of going to the clinic when the wound bled through the cloth and quickly turned the white fabric red.
Stephanie noticed and pressed harder on the accelerator.
“Easy does it. I think you’re going thirty now.”
“Shut up.”
“You shut up.”
She shook her head, seeming regretful. “I told you it was a bad idea to sleep together.”
“When did you tell me that?” Of course he had no recollection of that but had plenty of other vivid memories torturing him all morning.
“Before we slept together. We got along just fine before.”
“We did not. We’ve never gotten along.”
“We got along pretty well in your sister’s bed last night, but you probably don’t remember that.”
“I remember it,” he snapped.
“You don’t need to bite my head off just because you’re pissed with yourself.” Before Grant could begin to process that audacious statement, she let out a curse.
He looked out the windshield and saw a tree down across the road that led to the clinic. “See? Wasn’t meant to be. Hang a Uey and let’s get out of here.”
The words weren’t even out of his mouth when she was marching around to his side of the truck. She yanked open the door, grabbed his arm, and pulled him out. “Walk.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, there’s a huge tree in the way.”
“No, really?” She clamped down on his arm and propelled him toward the fallen tree. Her thin jacket was no match for the icy rain and whipping wind. In no time at all, her lips were blue, but she pressed on until they had no choice but to climb over the tree. “Let’s go.”
Grant was about to protest when she gave him a little shove that sent him stumbling toward the tree.
His foot got hooked around hers just as they hit a slick patch of mud.
They flew over the tree and landed with a thump in a mud puddle on the other side.
Somehow, she ended up on top of him, both of them dripping with mud.
She looked down at him and burst into laughter.
As he watched the laughter transform her face, the tight ball of tension he’d carried around all morning uncoiled, and he realized he didn’t dislike her at all. Rather, it was quite possible he could end up liking her far too much.