Page 5 of Love Story

I glanced at him one more time, my chest tightening at how vulnerable he looked, swaddled in the blanket, small and fragile in my truck.Whatever had brought him here or left him like this didn’t matter now.All that mattered was getting him to safety.

He was mumbling something, but I couldn’t make it out at first.Then bits and pieces made sense—a name—Harriet.

And he said he was Ben?

I put two and two together—was this Harriet’s great nephew—big-city-burnout Ben?

Too much of a coincidence not to be.

If it was him, he’d picked one hell of a way to make an entrance.

Benjamin‘Ben’ Marshall

THE URGENT CAREroom smelled of antiseptic, with a hint of burned coffee.I sat on the exam table, ready to leave, wincing as the doctor shone a small, blinding light into my eyes.

“Headache?”he asked, his voice flat, as if he’d asked the same question a thousand times today.

“No,” I said quickly, wanting to speed this up.“Just cold and tired.”I wasn’t stupid—I’d have told him if I had a headache, but he seemed in a hurry, and hell, I was in a hurry to get out of here.

He nodded, already moving on.“No signs of concussion, no broken bones.Butterfly bandage on the cut, and if it gets red or swollen, come back in.You’re okay to be discharged.Take Tylenol if you need it for pain.Drink water.Rest.”

I was grateful he summarized things at speed and would let me go.The last thing I wanted was someone hovering over me, checking to see if I was okay every few seconds.

The doctor slapped a butterfly bandage across the cut on my forehead, the adhesive tugging at my skin.“You’re good to go,” he said, turning to scribble something on a chart.

“I need to get to Caldwell Crossing,” I said to myself as I slid off the table and patted my pockets.No phone.Fuck.It must be in the car, probably still running the navigation that got me lost in the first place.“Is there a phone I can use to call a taxi?”

“Your friend’s outside, ready to take you home,” he replied, glancing up and sounding confused.

I blinked at him.“My what now?”

The doctor paused, staring at me as if I’d just asked him to solve a calculus equation.“The man who brought you in,” he said, as if it were obvious.

“Oh,” I said, the word coming out slowly.

The doctor raised an eyebrow, and I noticed the slightest twitch of impatience.“If he’s not here for you… then I can’t discharge you without someone to pick you up,” he said, his tone shifting toward authoritative.

“Oh, him,” I cut him off.“Yep, my friend.”

The word felt strange in my mouth—I didn’t have many friends now—my life had revolved around work, and everyone at Crendon Harbor Capital Partners Inc.had scattered.Any workplace watercooler or company barbecue-type friendships had gone with them.Still, I was happy enough to pretend that whoever rescued me was my best friend ever if it meant stopping the doctor from continuing whatever argument he was gearing up for.He gave me a curt nod, and he was obviously disinterested in whatever story I was working out in my head and left the room.

Friend.Okay then.I flashed back to the man who’d found me slumped over in my car—the solid weight of his arm as he helped me out, his steady voice keeping me conscious, and the way he’d talked to me as we traveled to wherever we were.I remembered him debating paramedics, wondering if I’d broken my neck, and he’d seemed annoyed or frustrated—I wasn’t sure—but he hadn’t left my side, and he’d brought me to whatever hospital this was.

I stared at the closed door and thought about the man outside.He wasn’t my friend, not really—I didn’t even know his name, though he’d probably told me.But he’d stayed.And for now, that was enough.

I glanced down at my shoes, the leather scuffed beyond repair, and saw blood spattered across the front of my pale blue shirt.My stomach twisted, and I closed my eyes, trying to shut it out.Look at me.Bloodied.Wrinkled.Completely undone.

“Fucking snow.Fucking navigation.Fucking car,” I muttered as I pushed open the door.The cooler air in the corridor slapped me in the face, waking me up from the fog of embarrassment and exhaustion.I glanced around and saw him—the stranger who’d rescued me, sitting on a plastic chair just in the hallway, right next to a vending machine.Leaning over with his elbows on his knees, he stared down at his phone as though the rest of the world didn’t exist.

What was I supposed to call him?

His gaze snapped up at me as I approached, and I was caught in a piercing blue-eyed stare that stopped me in my tracks.For a second, I forgot how to breathe.Tall, dark-haired, those damn gorgeous eyes.He wore a plaid shirt that had seen better days—plaid—and worn jeans, and a puffy coat lay over his lap.Stubble shadowed his jaw, enough to give him that rugged, I’ve-been-out-in-the-snow-all-day look.He stood as I approached, slipping his phone into his pocket.

“Good to go?”he asked, his voice low and steady.

I blinked, trying to process what he’d said.“Uhmm… I’m lost… I mean… good to go, where?”

He quirked an eyebrow, and I felt my face flush.Smooth, Ben.Real smooth.

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