Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Except, before I could move, a man appeared beside me.
“Hey, are you okay?”
I met all-too-familiar blue eyes, the concern in them clear.
“Jesus, Kassie. That was a bad fall. Can you move? Should I call an ambulance?”
Oliver was bent over me, looking far too handsome to be this close. His dark hair fell over his forehead, and he brushed it out of his eyes with an impatient flick. He scanned me, running his hands over my arms and legs, freezing when I gasped as he touched my foot. Without asking, he picked it up, pushing up my pant leg and running his long fingers over my ankle.
“I’m fine,” I protested.
He sat back, shaking his head. “You’ve twisted or sprained your foot. I wouldn’t call that fine.”
I stared at him, unable to believe he was here. Without thinking, I gripped his arm, his muscles bunching under my touch. “I-I…” I shook my head, unable to get out the apology I wanted to share with him.
He frowned, leaning close again. “Did you hit your head?”
“No.”
“Let me help you up. The ground is wet and you’ll get cold.”
He stood and grasped me around the waist, effortlessly lifting me to my feet.
“I’m okay.”
He raised an eyebrow. “How about you try to walk before you decide that?”
I took a couple of steps, biting my lip to stop my groan.
“Okay. Enough,” he said then, without warning, scooped me into his arms.
“What are you doing?” I gasped.
“My car is parked the other side of the trail. I’ll drive you home.”
“I can walk.”
He snorted. “Uh-huh.”
“You can’t carry me!” I protested.
“Feels like I already am,” he retorted.
“It’s too far.”
“Kassie, shut up. Just shut up.”
For a minute, I did what he asked, and then I peered up at him. “I’m not always a bitch.”
“Good to know.”
“Don’t leave.”
He glanced down, and I met his eyes. “Please.”
He smiled—it was different from his Hollywood red carpet or interview smile. His practiced, charming working persona smile I had seen all these years. This one was soft, warm, and lit up his eyes. It reminded me of the way he used to smile at me. It was my smile back then.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
He nodded. “Okay. On one condition.”
“Which is?”
“We talk.”
“Okay. But I—”
He cut me off. “Shut it. I’m getting the last word.”
“I think you already did last night,” I mumbled.
“I’m not going to apologize for that.”
“I figured.”
“Hush, or I’ll drop you into the pond over there.”
I gripped his neck a little harder, and I felt his fingers squeeze my waist.
He chuckled all the way to the car.
And I stayed quiet.
7
OLIVER
She stayed silent all the way home. When we arrived, I rounded the car to her side, leaning down and picking her up, somehow not surprised at how easily that gesture came back to me. She always loved to be carried and I had liked to be her knight in shining armor, so it happened a lot when we were young lovers.
The fact that she still felt so right in my arms was a bit disconcerting, though.
I carried her inside, setting her on the chair and lifting her foot to the ottoman in front of it. I pulled off her sneaker and sock, checking out the ankle.
“Are you a trained paramedic now, or do you just play one on the big screen?” she asked, her voice teasing.
I glanced up at the green eyes I used to lose myself in. They were so achingly familiar the way they gazed at me. Trustful. Soft.
“If I get out the hacksaw, you should worry.” I stood. “I think you rolled it badly with your acrobat moves, but it should heal. Ice would help. You have some?”
“In the freezer in the kitchen at the back. I can get it.”
“Stay,” I commanded. “Give it a chance.”
In her kitchen, I looked around, now knowing the source of the cinnamon and sugar I could smell earlier. I saw a lot of pies on the counter.
I carried the ice back to the living room, wrapping it in a tea towel. I draped it over her swollen ankle and sat across from her. “You need to stay off it for a bit. Let the swelling come down. And although I’m not a paramedic, I am certified to do first aid.”
“Ah.”
“And are you a pie addict? I counted a dozen in there.” I jerked my thumb toward the kitchen.
She smiled. “I bake pies for the Dill.”
I frowned. “The Dill?”
“Oh, Kind of a Big Dill—everyone calls it the Dill.”
“I thought you wanted to be an accountant?”
“I am. I have my own business. But I’ve always loved to bake pies and Quinn needed a pie maker, so I offered. It helps me clear my head, and I can bake whenever I want.” She paused and grinned. “Tax time, I make a freezer full so I can concentrate on my clients.”
I sat back. “I see. Interesting.”