Page 12 of Drive Me Wilde

Indi's head is resting against the couch, and her eyes are closed when I return to the living room. I walk over to her and allow myself a few seconds to watch her sleep. The spray of freckles, the button nose, the small cleft in her chin, it all comes back like a tsunami. Her dark lashes flutter a few times, and her lips are slightly parted. How many times I've imagined kissing those lips. Her accusation about the stolen kiss in sixth grade was true. I gave it the old Wilde try, but she turned me down flat. Even at that age, I was devastated.

"Jones," I say quietly. I give her arm a little shake. "Indi. The shower."

"Hmm, five more minutes, mom," she mewls in frustration.

"Indi," I say louder.

She sits up suddenly and straighter, then immediately pushes her arm against her ribs. "Shit, shit, shit." She holds her breath till the pain passes.

"I can wrap those ribs for you after your shower. I've had a lot of experience with it."

She catches her breath and nods. "Might be a good idea. I'm getting a little tired of feeling like someone is stabbing me with a red-hot poker every time I move too fast." She scoots forward to stand up. I offer her a hand. She stares at it with a dose of mistrust that goes straight through me like that same red-hot poker.

"I'm not making a move on you," I say, angrily. "Get over yourself, would ya? I know how hard it is to get up with broken ribs."

"They're not broken. Just bruised."

"Oh really? You've got a mini x-ray machine in your duffle that told you that?"

I'm still offering my hand. She slaps her palm onto mine. I wrap my fingers around hers. She stares at our clasped hands for a long moment. "Your hand is warm," she says quietly. She looks up at me. "Was it always this big? Were you always this big?"

I shake my head. "Come on, Jones. It's the showers for you. I wasn't there, but it seems you've had a rough game."

I have to coax myself into releasing her hand, and I miss holding it the second I let go.

"Exactly how many times have you broken your ribs?" she asks between two yawns.

"Hmm, let me see. Six, I think. Give or take."

I walk her to the bathroom. She turns to me. Everything about her is still so familiar. She still bites her lip when she's thinking. "Let me guess, six fights?"

"Uh, four fights, one gnarly dirt bike crash and one rollover in a Bobcat."

"A Bobcat? You mean one of those cute, little white boxy machines that digs up dirt?"

"Not sure the Bobcat would appreciate that description, but yeah, one of those. And before you ask if I was stealing it, I was working in it, and I took a wrong turn."

"I wasn't going to accuse you of stealing it. At least not out loud. I've learned that you're Mr. Sensitive when the accusations start flying. It's funny because you're much wider and more menacing looking than you were in high school, but you seem different."

"Guess I've grown up," I say. "In more ways than one, apparently."

She glances at herself in the mirror and laughs, but the pain in her ribs cuts it short. I realize how badly I missed that laughand her humor. She might have been head cheerleader, prom queen and everything that went with those titles, but she was never stuck up about it. She was always fun, always laughing and giving as good as she got. "I look very, very bad." She nods about her assessment. "A Bobcat? Are you working for your dad now?"

"Zander and I run the company."

She smiles and a short laugh follows. "Zander," she says in disbelief. "Zander Wilde?"

"Only Zander I know. He's settled down … some," I add with hesitation.

"Well, holy shit. Things really have changed around here."

"They have, Jones. I'll get your duffle."

"I hate when you call me that," she says as she leans out of the bathroom.

"That's why I call you that," I say back.

I listen in at Rio's door before going to fetch the duffle. It's quiet in her room. The kid sleeps like a rock. I pick up the bag and return to the bathroom. I knock but there's no answer. Fear shoots through me that she's collapsed again like she did at the door. Having her fall into my arms is etched so deeply into my soul now, I'll never forget it. I open the door. She's pulled off her T-shirt and is standing in a lacy blue bra and jeans. My pulse kicks into overdrive.

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