by Wendy Vella
She pushed at his chest and tried to rise, but he simply lifted her into his arms and took her to the bathroom. Raising the toilet seat, he lowered her to the floor, then stood back as she threw up.
“Is there no end to this humiliation?” she whispered when it was over. Sitting back on her heels, she tried to glare up at him, but failed miserably. She was shaking and pale, and he didn’t want to feel sorry for her, but he did.
Rinsing a washcloth, he then wiped her face.
“Now, I want you to listen to me, Rosebud, because you were an intelligent girl in high school, and unless you did drugs or some other substance abuse, I can’t imagine your brain capacity has dimmed too much.” Jake squatted before her so their eyes were on the same level.
“I was an English professor,” she whispered.
“There you go,” Jake added, wiping her face again. “So, you should get that you need to see a doctor because you have a concussion, and while I don’t think your arm is broken, it sure as hell is not right.”
“You a doctor or something?”
“Or something.” He lifted her into his arms, which wasn’t too hard as she didn’t weigh much.
“P-put me down.” Her words were weak, and he ignored them. “Where are you taking me?”
“I think we just covered that.” He gave her a quick look as he walked back out through the door he had just entered.
Her eyes were the color of fresh cut grass, so bright they’d always given him a jolt, and he remembered that her jet-black hair had always been plaited in a long, fat braid down her back. No ribbons or clips, just a plan black band had secured it at the bottom. She’d had no soft edges in school, just a belligerent girl with a serious attitude and that air of sadness that had clung to her. Of course, everything changed when she had a microphone in her hand. The girl had sung like an angel.
It had always amazed Jake that she chose to join the school band, yet avoided communicating with other students whenever possible. He’d watched her once, being dragged in by Newman because he had the hots for some girl doing backup vocals and playing the tambourine. Jake had been shocked when Branna had stepped up to the microphone. Seeing Annabelle playing keyboards told him who was responsible for her appearance, but nothing had prepared him for her voice; all the hair on the back of his neck had risen when she sang her first note.
“No, I won’t go to the doctor.” She was trying to get out of his arms now, but he was bigger, so he just tightened his hold. “I don’t like them.”
“Don’t be foolish, Branna.”
She squinted up at him as they walked out into the sunshine. “How did you know about my fall?”
“Penny told me.”
“She had no right. Now put me down.” She squirmed against him.
“You’re starting to annoy me now, so quit it.”
“I don’t know the doctor here, and I don’t want some quack touching me.”
“I’ll be sure to tell my mother that.” Jake pulled open the passenger door.
“Your mom’s still the doctor here?”
“Sure is,” Jake said, as he put her on the seat and did up her seat belt. Closing the door, he sprinted around the truck to get into the driver’s seat, because he couldn’t rule out the fact that she might try to get out. Starting the car, he backed out just as she got the door open.
“What are you going to do, jump?”
She slammed it shut, then moaned.
“I bet that hurt your wrist?”
“Go to hell.”
“What’s your problem with doctors, O’Donnell?”
“I don’t like medical people.”
Jake shot her a look as he backed out of the driveway. She was huddled against the door, shivering and pale. Sighing, he pulled the blanket out from beneath the seat and laid it over her.
“My mother’s a good doctor, Rosebud, and I can personally guarantee she has no rusty needles or thumb screws in her rooms… and she’s got a great bedside manner.”
“I don’t remember her place. Does it have that bad smell?”
Pulling out of her street, he headed back into town before answering that strange question.
“No, it smells clean and has nice beige walls and magazines dated before 2010.”
“I don’t want to go.”
“But you need to,” he added.
Jake reached Howling and lifted his hand to acknowledge Ben Tiller, who stood at the curb waiting to cross. He watched the man’s eyes flick from Jake to the top of Branna’s head and back. Frowning, Jake drove on. By tomorrow, there would be questions, and he was fairly sure by the end of it he’d be sick of fielding them… such was life in a small town. He’d have to lay low for a few days until something else fired up their thirst for gossip.
“I’m an adult. You can’t make me go if I don’t want to.”
“Well, now, Rosebud, that sure as hell sounded like an adult talking.” Swinging into the driveway next to The Howler, he drove for a few minutes down the long, winding concrete strip, then turned into the parking lot in front of Yelp Medical Facility. Climbing out, Jake went around the hood to open the passenger door. It was locked. Pulling the keys he had just pocketed back out with a loud sigh, he unlocked it and opened the door. “Real mature, O’Donnell.”
“I hate you.” He could barely hear the whispered words as he bent to slip his hands beneath her thighs and pick her up. She was shaking so hard he could feel it through her entire body. This was about more than a concussion; this was a reaction to fear, plain and simple, and he had firsthand knowledge of fear and what it could do to you if you let it take root.
“Ungrateful is what you are, Rosebud, and me being a good Samaritan and all.”
“I can walk,” were the next words out of her mouth, which made him snort. She was shaking and her breathing was now a rasp. “I have to tell you something.” Her head lay on his chest as he walked toward the doors.
“I’m listening.”
“I’m scared of doctors, hospitals, clinics, needles, and anything to do with all of the above.”
“No kidding.”
“F-fuck you, McBride.”
“That took me straight back to twelfth grade.”
“Pl-please, don’t make me go in there,” she whispered.
He looked down at her and the terror in her eyes made something jolt inside him.
“They’re good people in here, Rosebud. They’ll be gentle, I promise.”
Her good hand suddenly grabbed a fistful of his shirt. “Don’t think I can do this.”
“Trust me.”
She tilted her head back to look up at him as he opened the doors. “Why?”
“Because I give you my word that no one inside these walls will harm you in any way.” He’d said the words solemnly, almost as if they were an oath.
“I’ll try.” After that, she rested her head on his chest again, but didn’t relax any. In fact, the knuckles on the fist she had in his shirt were white.
“This is my favorite shirt, O'Donnell. You rip it, you buy a new one.”
“It smells.”
“Sweat, baby, pure and natural essence of McBride.”
Using the hand under her to turn the handle, Jake nudged the door with his foot and walked inside. He put Branna in one of the waiting room chairs, the one furthest from the doors in case she got the urge to make a run for it, and then made his way up to the reception desk.
A Promise Of Home
OTHER BOOKS BY WENDY VELLA
Contemporary Romances
The Lake Howling Series
A Promise Of Home
The Texan Meets His Match
How Sweet It Is
It Only Took You
Don’t Look Back
A Long Way Home
The Ryker Falls Series
Somebody To Love
Historical Romances
Regency Rakes Series
Duchess By Chance
Rescued By A Viscount
Te
mpting Miss Allender
The Langley Sisters Series
Lady In Disguise
Lady In Demand
Lady In Distress
The Lady Plays Her Ace
The Lady Seals Her Fate
The Raven & Sinclair Series
Sensing Danger
Seeing Danger
Touched By Danger
The Lords Of Night Street Series
Lord Gallant
Lord Valiant
Lord Valorous
Stand-Alone Titles
The Reluctant Countess
Christmas Wishes
The Earl’s Encounter
