She shrugged, the movement heavy due to his hand on her arm. “This is what happens to those kids in high school who spend a semester building terrariums out of two-liter bottles. We get to build really, really big ones as adults.”
He turned his sharp eyes on her and frowned. “You built that?”
“Yes.” She blinked, already bored with his disbelief. “Women can have brains too.”
His frown deepened and his eyes narrowed. She widened her eyes and gave him the stare-down of the century. Or as much as she could.
“Are the keys to your car in the office?” He broke the stare first, glancing around the bright expanse and heading to the elevators.
“Yes,” she sighed, giving in. He had already followed her all the way there. It was obvious he was invested in the outcome of her head injury. Whatever.
He let go of her arm once they were in the elevator and he pushed the button for Merrick’s floor. “You can call me Remington, or Rem, or Rohan.”
She blinked at him as the elevator doors closed. “Okay…”
He looked at his shoes and shook his head. “I’d just prefer you call me by my name instead of chode monkey.”
Lydia sucked in a sharp breath. “I did not say that out loud.”
He tried to fight off his smile as he looked anywhere but directly at her. “Oh, you said it out loud. A few times now.”
“Oh my God.” She sagged against the wall of the elevator. “Maybe I do have a concussion.”
Remington lifted his eyebrows and bugged his eyes out at the door right before they slid open. “Yeah, maybe.” She didn’t miss the obvious sarcasm. He took hold of her arm again and hauled her out of the lift.
“I can walk on my own,” she snapped, trying to pull free. But he tightened his grasp.
“How about we make sure you’re going to live through the night and then I promise you can go back to hating me.”
She grumbled but didn’t respond. Part of her felt guilty for realizing he knew she hated him. Not that she had been trying to keep it a secret. It was pretty obvious.
But she didn’t like hating people.
It made her feel like a fraud.
“How does your side feel?”
“Uh,” Lydia cleared her throat. “What?”
He lifted his chin at her shirt and she looked down. Beneath the caked-on dirt from their tumble on the hillside, was one of her favorite shirts. A vintage 1979 Led Zeppelin Knebworth Festival t-shirt. It wasn’t like it was a loss. She had one more at home. But it still hurt her heart when she saw the rip in the front exposing…
Oh great, more blood.
“Were you the only one who hit me? Or had the army with you already fled by the time I had turned around?” She tucked the hem of her shirt under her chin and looked at the gash on her lower belly that spread up to her ribs along her right side. “Holy crap. Not even I have ever done this kind of damage to myself.”
“C’mon,” Remington growled, taking her hand. This caused her to drop her shirt and stumble along behind him.
Dang she was tired.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“To get your keys.”
She thought she heard him mutter something about her being a pain in the ass, but couldn’t be sure.
They arrived at her office and he dropped her hand, heading straight for the desk.
“Top drawer,” she helped, beyond caring at this point. She eyed the couch nearby. It looked so cozy…
“No, you don’t.” Remington grabbed her hand again and yanked her back out into the hallway.
“Are you this rough with other women, or am I special?” she asked.
He glared at her over his shoulder. “I’m not the asshole you think I am. I’m trying to get you to the hospital. It would be a lot easier if someone wasn’t fighting me every step of the way.”
She kept her eyes on the strong line of his back, noting he was in athletic shorts and a t-shirt. Not the usual business casual she was used to seeing him in.
“Was it me? Are you talking about me?”
He stopped them at the elevator, chuckling and rolling his eyes as he pressed the button.
“Damn it, Larkin. I wish you were usually this cute instead of just when you’re concussed.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, ignoring the burn in the cut on her side. “I will have you know, I am a fucking delight to be around.”
It was the grin. At least that’s what she would blame it on.
It was so blasted unexpected and blinding that she actually lost her balance a little. He caught her. This time hauling her to his side inside of just hanging onto her arm. He looped an arm around her waist and she leaned easily into his strong body and heat. The door to the elevator opened and he guided them inside.
“Where’s Merrick today, honey?” he asked.
She chose to ignore the sweet tone of voice he’d switched to.
“Merrick is wooing a biologist at UC Berkley today.” She sighed, the fatigue tugging at her eyes.
“Do you have a friend I can call for you? Or family?” The door opened and he moved them out into the gorgeous atrium.
“Can I sit down a minute?” she asked. “I’m really tired.”
“No, we need to keep going. You can rest in the car.”
“Okay.”
The movement to the door started to make her dizzy and she gripped Remington’s shirt in her fist. They stopped in the parking lot. Remington held up her key fob and hit the button. Her car honked and he headed that direction.
She wanted to tell him that she knew where her car was. She wanted to let him know she wasn’t stupid. That she wasn’t an intern. That she was so much more than he would ever know.
But, no.
“Great,” she sighed, flailing one hand out to the side (the hand not gripping Remington’s shirt for dear life). “Now I have to throw up.”
***
Remington
Remington closed his eyes and pressed his lips together as his charge threw up mostly on him. A little splashed onto the concrete of the parking lot.
This chick.
No concussion.
Right.
Today’s events thus far had not been on his agenda. But as the leggy, curvy brunette by his side growled some rather choice swear words under her breath, he grinned at the puke saturated ground.
His life was nothing short of unpredictable. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.
The struggle to get her in the car wasn’t what he feared it would be and within minutes they were on their way to the hospital.
“Honey, can you call Merrick for me?” he asked, handing her his phone.
“Yop,” she agreed with a pop of her lips. “Merrick knows all the good nurses. He can probably get me the hookup.”
A minute later she announced there was no answer and dropped his phone in the cup holder. He slipped it back into his pocket. Soon after that he was happily turning her over to the Emergency Room personnel.
His phone rang.
“Shit, Merrick,” Remington answered the phone and stepped out of the examination room. Lydia’s hazel eyes watched him with a curious quirk in her eyebrows.
“I missed your call.”
“There is no way I can tell you what happened without making me sound like a total asshole, so I’ll just tell you.”
A nurse passing him frowned at his language. Remington turned his back for a limited amount of privacy.
“I ran over your goblin this morning on my ride of the ridge.”
Though after their lengthy interaction, he was thinking she was less of a goblin and more… something else.
“Why would you do that?”
“Because everyone knows the only way to destroy a goblin is to grind it back into the dirt from whence it came.”
He was met with silence. Clearly Merrick was not amused.
“I’m joking,” Remington said with an eyeroll.
“What do you mean? Is s
he all right?”
“Yeah, I think so. We’re at the hospital right now because I’m sure she has a concussion and she needs stitches.”
Merrick cursed under his breath.
“Who do I call for her? She has been…less than helpful about that.”
Merrick exhaled loudly. “Brenda Ellis is her friend. And the only one she’d trust. But she flew out last night to a seminar in New Orleans. She won’t be back for two days.”
Remington held his breath. “What about family—”
“No,” Merrick answered sharply. “That’s not a viable option,” he added calmly. But it still piqued Remington’s interest.
“Okay…when are you going to be back?”
It sounded like Merrick was moving around and then a door closed in the background. “Tomorrow night, more than likely. Rem… can I trust you with this?”
“Me?” Remington asked, thinking he’d kind of already done enough with giving her the concussion in the first place.
“Nothing extreme. Just make sure she gets home okay and she doesn’t die before I get back.”
Remington thought about some of the weird things Lydia had let slip today. He wondered again about Merrick’s attachment to her. “One of these days you’re going to tell me why you treat your secretary like she’s so damn important to you.”
“She just is. And if you set aside your foolish assumptions about her, and give her a minute of your precious time, she’ll show you why,” Merrick said sternly, an edge of annoyance in his voice.
Remington swallowed, his eyebrows lifting. Merrick didn’t normally get ruffled. He usually discarded anything negative Remington had to say about Lydia.
Huh.
“I’ll take care of it,” Remington promised. “You can trust me.”
Chapter 3
A Collision
Lydia
Lydia had a concussion.
And eleven stitches.
Eleven.
Three in her scalp and eight in her side.
She was more upset about the stitches than the concussion. The concussion was bound to happen to her eventually anyway with the way she charged at life headfirst. But this was her first experience with stitches. In all her years of travel and adventure, she had never torn open her skin to the point of needing to sew it back together.
She glared at her new companion.
Remington Rohan.
She wasn’t sure what she had done to deserve this kind of punishment, but she was pretty sure she’d never do it again.
He must’ve sensed her glare because his attention shifted to her. He took a deep breath and exhaled audibly.
Her lips and tongue itched to bite at him verbally. This was his fault, not hers. And now she was going to have to stay the night in the hospital.
Shit.
In all the pandemonium, she hadn’t stopped to think about whether anyone had called her mom.
“Well,” the doctor said, not even glancing up from the chart as he entered the room. “We can let you go home as long as someone is with you for the next twenty-four hours, in case there are further issues with the head injury. Also, if you want to wash your hair, you’ll need help. Keep the stitches dry for 48-hours. Then you can return to showering with soap and shampoo normally.”
Awesome.
She dropped back onto the bed and swallowed a groan. One night in the hospital. How expensive could it be? And she’d have to go a few days without washing the dirt out of her hair? How was that a better option than getting the stitches wet?
Maybe she could construct something out of duct tape and—
“Do I have to sign something?”
Her eyes flew open at Remington’s question.
“Nope.” The doctor smiled and checked something off on the clipboard. “You can check-out with the nurse anytime.” He finally glanced up at Lydia. “Take care of that bump, young lady.”
She just started after him as he left.
“Ready?”
Lydia blinked at the empty doorway. Then she blinked at Remington.
It was a slight consolation that he didn’t look pleased either.
“You’re taking me home?” she asked, still not sure she understood what was happening.
He tried to smile but it was really more of a grimace. “Don’t make it sound so sexy, Larkin.”
“Ugh.” She shuddered before hopping off the exam table. Thankfully, they hadn’t made her change her clothes. Yeah, her shirt was technically in tatters, but it still covered more than one of those embarrassing hospital handkerchiefs they had the gall to call gowns.
Remington’s straight back led them out of the hospital and to the parking garage. He did always have remarkably good posture she couldn’t help but notice again. His gait strong, clean lines. No wonder modeling came so easy to him. He was basically built for it.
He wasn’t David Gandy, but who was?
They reached her car and she didn’t waste the energy to argue with him about driving. Instead, she buckled into the passenger side of her own black Subaru Legacy.
Of all the cars she had ever owned, this one was her favorite. Probably because she had bought it herself, and no one could take it from her. It wasn’t a hand-me-down, or a guilt gift, or recommended by anyone. She’d picked it out herself, made the decision, bought the car.
Remington played with the touch screen for a minute and selected “home” on the GPS screen. That was easy enough. She wouldn’t even have to give him directions. Hopefully he’d call an Uber or something to come pick his ass up once they reached her place. Because he was not staying—
“What were you even doing out there this morning?”
Lydia rolled her eyes and continued to pick the dirt out of her fingernails.
Remington glanced sideways at her a couple of times. “Are you not speaking to me, or is this just the brain damage thing?”
“It’s not brain damage. It’s a minor concussion. Which, by the way, not sure I thanked you for yet.”
He nodded. “You bet.”
See? 100% a dick.
The phone in the car rang and Merrick’s name and number flashed on the screen.
“Hello.”
Lydia glared daggers at the unwelcome answerer. But he pretended not to notice.
“Lydia?” Merrick asked slowly. “How are you feeling?”
“Peachy,” she replied. “What’s a little carnage between sworn enemies?”
He chuckled into the phone and some of her sourness melted away.
“Wait. When did we become sworn enemies?” Remington sounded genuinely confused. “It isn’t like I meant to run you over.”
He glanced to his right and caught her eye. For a second. She recognized regret and concern in his gaze. She looked away and cleared her throat.
“It was bound to happen eventually,” Merrick was saying. “She doesn’t expend a lot of effort thinking about potential… human consequences.”
“Wow, Merrick. Thanks for your vote of confidence.” She didn’t care that this conversation and the tone she was taking with him weren’t typical employer-employee dialogue. Blame the concussion, she was just too tired to play a role today.
The back of Remington’s hand brushed her thigh to get her attention.
“Why were you out there that early?”
This time, his question sounded more curious and less accusatory.
She pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. “None of your beeswax incorporated.”
The chuckle next to her was unexpected. She darted her eyes over to Remington who took that opportunity to flash her a smile.
Ohh, mama.
That smile, directed at her, combined with his almost laugh…
She imagined for a moment that his laugh was rich and full and—dammit! No! This was the guy who gave her eleven stitches! She would not think nice things about him. Even if on a scale of one to ten in the hotness category he was an eleven.
Just…elevens all the way
around with this one.
“She keeps track of the snapdragons,” Merrick supplied without her permission.
“Merrick!” she snapped. “That’s confidential!”
Remington’s lips twitched and he arched one eyebrow.
Merrick sighed. “You really think he’s a spy sent to steal your research, Lydia? Because if he is, he’s certainly committed to the role.”
Lydia pursed her lips while holding eye contact with Remington.
“I’m not a spy.”
“That’s exactly what a spy would say,” she retorted, knowing how fucking juvenile that made her sound. God, she hated it when he made her feel stupid. Half the time he didn’t even have to try. It was just part of the Remington Rohan package deal.
He probably did seminars on it.
His response was only a cheeky grin. Like he knew.
“Remington,” Merrick broke in, all business. “You have this handled until I return tomorrow?”
“You know I do,” Remington replied while pulling into a parking spot on the street right in front of her building. This man had either made a very lucrative deal with the devil, or he was charmed. Lydia normally circled the block five times and eventually parked on a cross street.
Merrick said goodbye and promised to call in the morning, which she knew he would, and then Remington followed her (uninvited) upstairs to her apartment.
“Okay, I’m home and safe. You can leave now.” She waved him off with one hand as she turned the key in the lock with the other.
He ignored her direction and waited for the door to open.
The wood stuck and she braced her shoulder against the door to give it a gentle shove. They entered the small studio and she wasn’t sure whether or not to ignore his presence or watch his reaction to seeing where she lived.
Her curiosity won out over her irritation.
Remington stuck his hands on his hips as he made a slow circle viewing her apartment.
“You live here alone?”
“I do.”
He clucked under his breath and made his way into her kitchen. She followed. Perplexed. Maybe it was the scientist in her.
Maybe it was the concussion.
In Between the Earth and Sky Page 4
