Page 7 of Big Trouble
3
Jack
Ihad to hustle to keep up with her.
The pain had started again in my ankle. It was as if there were a thousand tiny knives stabbing me. I wanted to sit down and refuse to move. That would be easier.
Of course, it wasn’t an option.
I had to follow her.
Whatever her name was.
She hadn’t even had the courtesy to tell me, despite already knowing a hell of a lot about me.
As I struggled to maintain a steady pace, I checked her out to distract myself from the pain.
I studied her perfect ass and the way her glossy brown hair bounced around in its practical ponytail. My mind went into overdrive as I imagined her mane cascading over her shoulders.
Fuck, Jack, those painkillers are really doing a number on you.
She was hot.
There as a time when I would’ve asked her out. But this chick was tied to this town.
And I wasn’t going to be, no matter what.
As soon as she got me fixed up and back on a bike, I was going back out to join the tribe, wherever they were in the world. I’d already missed enough races.
We ended up in her office, or treatment room, I supposed. It was where she worked with her clients. I guess that’s what they were calling me these days.
A client.
So…clinical.
Naturally, her room had been the farthest away from the reception area and I was huffing and puffing by the time we got there. I was practically winded. Being weak pissed me off. A lot of things pissed me off right now. I brushed past her to find the nearest chair which,of course, was on the other side of the room. I collapsed on the seat and slowly raised my face to meet her gaze.
“What?” I snapped, trying to ignore the pain in my ankle.
She released a slow breath. I’d obviously made such a good impression on her already.
“So, Jack, why don’t you tell me about your injuries?” She sat down at her desk, her eyes flicking up and down, alternately reading between the screen and my file.
“So, why don’t you tell me your name first? I don’t like sharing my intimate secrets with strangers.” My bedside manner wasn’t as soothing as hers.
Sitting a little straighter, she fixed me with a look. Her chocolate brown eyes studied mine, questioning. Almost imperceptibly, she shook her head before holding out her hand. “I’m Lauren Garcia, but everyone calls me Lo.”
I reached out and took her hand. Her skin was soft and a little cool. But I wasn’t prepared for the bolt of electricity which snaked up my arm, down my spine and pooled in my groin. Seems like my senses were still perfectly capable of responding, even if my limbs weren’t.
“Good. Thanks, Lauren.” I used her full name as I released her hand, showing I wasn’t about to be a friend. This was strictly business.
“I see you’re finding it difficult to walk. What caused that?” She went back to looking at the computer screen, seemingly unaffected by our physical contact.
“You have everything you need right there,” I grumbled.
Lo—of course I was going to call her that—treated me to a tight smile. “Yes, but I’d love to hear it from you.”
I was tired of talking about the accident.
