Page 5 of Grit
She couldn’t stop the tears. She covered her face. “Oh my God.”
Not his blood. It wasn’t his blood.
“Missy?”
No, don’t call me that. Don’t make me soft. If I give you an inch, I’ll fall apart.
She couldn’t face him. She turned and shot out the door.
Once she was in the fresh air, she lifted her chin, took a deep breath, and tried to stop the tears.
Get it together, Melissa.
What was Cary going to think of her? He probably thought she was an emotional wreck. Or insane. Maybe insane. And maybe hung up on him.
She didn’t have time to be hung up on anyone.
Melissa’s legs ate up the sidewalk, heading to the parking garage across from the hospital in Metlin.
“Melissa!”
Shit!
He was taller than her by at least six inches. His legs were longer. And he was strong. So damn strong. He’d be able to catch up unless she ran, and she was not going to run.
She stopped and turned, wiping the back of her hand across her eyes. “What?”
He nearly ran into her. “You thought I was hurt?”
“Ox didn’t give me details on the phone. He just called and said that you and Jeremy were in a climbing accident. I jumped in the truck and…”
“I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault.” She cleared her throat. “Is Jeremy going to be okay?”
“Yeah, he’ll be okay. Just banged up, and he has to have surgery to sort his arm out.” Cary edged closer and his eyes narrowed. “You thought I was hurt.”
“Don’t…” Her heart started to race again, this time for other reasons. “Climbing accidents can be bad and—”
“You thought I was hurt”—his dark eyes burned into her—“and you drove straight into town.”
“Yes.”Turn and walk away. Just turn and walk—
“You drove thirty miles into town and straight to the hospital because you thought I was hurt.”
“Don’t do this.” She clenched her jaw. “Cary—”
“No, I’m going to do this because that is not the reaction of a woman who told me… What was it? ‘We’re friends, Cary. Don’t let yourself get confused.’ Is that what this is?” He reached for her arm. “You feeling a little confused, Missy?”
She could smell him now, past the scent of hospital disinfectant. The warm, sweet scent of orange blossoms he carried on his skin, mixed with pine from the mountains. His strong fingers encircled her wrist. He stepped closer and hooked a finger through her belt loop.
His chest was broad, his shoulders solid muscle. She had to fight the urge to lay her head over his heart. She wanted to hear it beat. Wanted the simple reassurance of his body pressed to hers.
His breath tickled the hair at her temple. “Talk to me.”
She shook her head.
“Then tell me to leave you alone.”
