Hannah reached for the plastic buzzer draped over the railing on the hospital bed. “Want me to call the nurse’s station to get you more pain meds?”
“No, I just want to get the hell out of here.” He struggled to think who to contact since his buddy had bailed on him. His closest neighbor would still be at work. Maybe his trainer…
“I can give you a ride home.”
He glanced over, hope stirring. “You can?”
She nodded. “You look frustrated and stressed…and exhausted.” Compassion filled her amber eyes. “What you need most right now is rest, so I’m going to help you out. For Eden, if nothing else. Quit worrying about everything since there isn’t a damn thing you can do to fix any of it, and relax. I’ll go see when you’ll be released and discuss your therapy with your doctor, if I can find him, along with pain management protocols. You’ll probably have to sign a form allowing him to talk to me.”
“Sure.” He shifted and winced. “Thanks, Hannah. You’re being really nice about this. I appreciate it. A lot.”
“No problem.” She stood and headed for the door. “I’ll be back later.”
His attention focused on her hips, swaying gently beneath tight denim as she exited the room. When he’d thought of Hannah in the past, which admittedly wasn’t often, he’d pictured her in flowing skirts and baggy sweaters or T-shirts. Not jeans that showed off an extremely fine ass. But then, back when she’d visited their ranch a time or two with his sister, she’d been more…well-rounded. Not fat, but a little on the chubby side. Sometime in the last few years, those extra pounds had disappeared.
His lips quirked in a self-deprecating smile. Eden would no doubt tell him he was a superficial jerk for focusing on a Hannah’s appearance first and foremost. The truth didn’t exactly hurt…maybe just stung a little.
He’d noticed Hannah’s new and improved figure at his oldest brother’s engagement party the previous fall and thought about giving her a call afterward. Settling against the pillows, he closed his eyes. Somehow, he’d never gotten around to it. Probably because he’d rarely been home in the last couple of months, and she wasn’t really his type. The sort he dated—women like Poppy or Pansy or whatever the brunette from the bar’s name was—made him feel like a hero. Hannah was smart enough to know better. Way too smart to be interested in a guy like him.
He couldn’t think of one woman he’d dated recently who’d care enough to visit him in the hospital…and wasn’t that pathetic. Maybe Hannah was right. Maybe it was time to make a few changes.
Chapter 2
“Are you all signed out and ready to go?”
Hannah pushed the wheelchair into the room and surveyed Tripp from the top of his slightly shaggy chestnut hair downward. His face was still pale, the skin drawn tight over high cheekbones, while a bruise darkened the side of his jaw. He wore an old, black University of Colorado sweatshirt that hugged broad shoulders beneath the white sling.
“More than ready.” When he stood, faded jeans stretched over hard, muscled thighs. “At least Jake brought me some clothes, earlier.” He lifted a brown paper bag. “They cut me out of my race suit. What’s left of it is in here.”
She nodded. “Do we need to pick up your meds from the pharmacy before we go?”
“I guess so.” Tripp swayed slightly as he fished a folded paper from his back pocket.
He really didn’t look great. Stepping around the chair, Hannah took the prescription from him then held on to his good arm. “Are you sure you should be leaving the hospital this soon?”
“They wanted to keep me overnight.” He frowned. “I refused. I just need some rest, and I can do that at home.”
“I don’t know…”
“Well, I do. Let’s go.” He limped toward the door, steps faltering as a little more color leached out of his face.
“You’re supposed to use the wheelchair until you get outside. That’s why I brought it in with me.”
“The hell with that. I can walk out under my own steam.”
Not likely. “Sit down, or I’ll get in trouble.”
“Whatever.” He let out a sigh then dropped onto the seat with a whoosh of breath. “Wouldn’t want the nurses yelling at you, too.”
As she turned the chair and pushed him down the hall, a grin slipped out. “They yelled at you?”
“Maybe not yelled, exactly. More like strongly suggested I stop trying to do too much so soon.” He rested his head against the back of the chair. “Hell, I figured a little exercise to keep the blood flowing would help rather than hinder.”
“You didn’t mention earlier that you have a sprained ankle and serious bruising to your thigh.” She stopped at the elevator and pressed the down button.
“Whining isn’t going to do me much good.” He glanced back at her, green eyes dark with pain. “Anyway, they’re only minor problems and will heal a whole lot faster than my shoulder. The doc wrapped my ankle and told me to take it easy for a few days. No big deal.”
She pressed her lips together. Obviously Tripp was determined to downplay his injuries. Or maybe he was just trying to be a martyr. Perfect. They were both silent on the ride down in the elevator. After wheeling him to the pharmacy, she handed over his prescription to the white-coated attendant.
“Now what?”
She glanced at him and frowned. “We stick to the plan. I take you home, maybe make some dinner, and then we’ll see.”
White teeth flashed in a smile. “If any other woman said that…”
Her cheeks heated. “Yeah, well, I’m not any other woman.”
“No, you certainly aren’t.”
Hannah wasn’t sure how to take his quiet comment, so she didn’t say anything while he paid for the prescription then listened to the spiel on dosage and possible side effects. Once he’d taken the bag from the pharmacist, she pushed him out to the parking lot where she’d left her Subaru. After he settled onto the passenger seat, she returned the wheelchair then hurried back to the car. Snowflakes sifted through the gathering cloud cover as she started the engine.
“Another storm moving in.” She turned up the heater. “This is shaping up to be a big winter.”
He didn’t bother to open his eyes. “And I’m going to miss it.”
She gave him a long look before pulling out of the lot. “No whining, remember.”
That earned her a half-smile.
“Right. Sorry.”
At the stop sign, she waited. “Uh, Tripp.”
“Hmm?”
“I don’t have a clue where you live. Somewhere here in Truckee, or do we head back to Squaw Valley?”
“I live in Tahoe City down the West Shore. I hope I’m not taking you out of your way.”
“Not at all. I’m on the West Shore, too.” She flipped on her blinker and turned left. “Convenient. Let’s see if we can make it home before the roads get slick again.”
“I really appreciate this.”
“I know you do. As I said before, not a problem. My afternoon was open, and my evening, too.” She sure wasn’t going to tell him almost all her evenings were free since she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had an actual date. Tapping her fingers on the wheel, she glanced over as they waited at the stoplight. “Why did your friend bail on you?”
“Media interview. Jake won