Blind Date(40)

Then I focus back on the phone. "Jacob is here now."

"Text me when you get into the hospital, and if they send you home, let me know."

My heart squeezes with dread again. "Okay Ace."

"Later."

He hangs up and I stare at my phone in confusion, then I lift my head just in time to see Jacob rounding my car. He takes one look at me and his face goes soft. He walks over, avoiding the spill, and squats down, glancing at my ankle. "That's swollen, Hartley. Are you in pain?"

I nod. "Yeah, it hurts a lot."

"I'm going to lift you up and take you into the hospital. Are you ready?"

I give him a weak thumbs-up and he leans down, scoops me into his arms, and lifts me up. I circle an arm around his neck as he carefully walks me across the road and into the hospital. He strolls straight up to the reception desk, and the pretty blonde who I waved good bye to only half an hour before, looks up and her eyes widen.

"What's happened?" she asks.

"I slipped and hurt my ankle. I just wanted to get it looked at," I inform her.

"It's really swollen," Jacob adds.

"Okay, head on into the ER and I'll call the nurses there and tell them you're coming."

Jacob walks me down the halls and I point him in the direction of the ER. When we get in, we explain again what is wrong and a nurse guides us to a free bed while we wait for a doctor. By now my ankle is three times its usual size and turning an ugly shade of purple. Jacob goes in search of an ice pack, and I pull out my phone to inform Ace that I'm still here.

H: I'll be at the hospital a while. It's busy tonight.

He responds a minute later.

A: I'll be there soon.

I blink. He'll what?

That doesn't make me feel good. It lodges an uneasy feeling in my belly. Ace wouldn't come here if he didn't have good reason to, and I'm not sure I want to know what that reason is.

At all.





SIXTEEN


Jacob has to leave after waiting with me for an hour. He said he has a late client, and can't hang around even though he'd love to. I thank him for coming for me and assure him I'm fine and that I'll call him later. Ace still hasn't arrived, but it's possible I've got another two- to three-hour wait before I get seen, considering how busy it is. Not to mention, they'll probably do X-rays, adding to the time.


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So I get comfortable on the bed.

I'm tired. My eyes are heavy. The ice on my ankle has numbed some of the pain, and a nurse gave me some painkillers to help get me through until a doctor can have a look at it. That combination has helped enough to stop the sharp ache, but unfortunately, it also made me drowsy. I'm slowly starting to nod off when the curtain to my bed opens, and Ace steps in.

He looks incredible, as always, in a pair of suit pants that he has a white shirt tucked into. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and the top two buttons are casually undone. His hair is poking out in all different directions, in that messy hot way. He looks like a businessman. The rogue kind. The kind who will throw you over a desk and spank you with his belt.

What the hell? It must be the meds.

I shake my head, and raise a hand. "Hey."

His eyes find mine, and narrow. Intense. So intense.

"How's your ankle?"

He reaches down before I get the chance to answer, and pulls the ice pack away from it, studying it. My mouth drops open when he lifts it carefully into his hands and starts inspecting it, rotating my foot slightly. His rough calloused fingers glide over my skin. I wince but don't jerk my foot back, instead I let him continue with his inspection. When he's satisfied, he places it back down.

My heart is pounding.

"It's not broken," he informs me. "But it is severely sprained. You'll be off that for at least a week."

I blink at him. "You're a doctor too?"

He gives me an expression that has me close my mouth instantly. "I just know basics, and I'm telling you, it's not broken."

"I'm seeing the doctor anyway."

"Wasn't sayin' you shouldn't," he mumbles. "Where's Jacob?"

"He had to leave."

He shakes his head in disgust, but I choose to ignore that and instead say, "Are you going to tell me why you're here? We both know it isn't out of genuine concern for my sore ankle."

He raises a brow, gives me a skeptical look, and then goes and sits down on the chair by the bed. "I'm not that much of a bastard," he murmurs, eyes scanning briefly over my lips before moving back to my eyes.

God.

I feel that stare deep, deep inside. It sparks something in me. Something that has been long dormant.