“We could see each other for dinner.”
Avery frowned, shifting the chart in her hands. “Maybe socializing isn’t such a good idea with me being your physical therapist.”
“Why not? Because you said everything outside of the office was fair game.”
Her face flushed. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
His male instincts urged him to stalk closer, crowd her in and make her admit she was just as attracted as he was. Instead he forced himself to remain still, using words to reel her in. “Come on. You want an adventure. I want to help you find one. Let’s talk about it over dinner.”
“Well…” Her flush deepened, but she also straightened her shoulders. “I guess I could do dinner one night.”
As he came to his feet, Avery’s quizzical little smile distracted him. He saw nothing else. Not taupe walls, nor yellow scrubs. Just pale blue eyes and bow-shaped lips as she moved closer.
Before he could reach for his cane, his legs gave him the old heave-ho and collapsed. Avery had moved close, too close to miss out on his game of timber. Down they both went.
“Sweetheart, you’re the softest landing place I’ve had in a while.”
* * *
The Renegade Returns is part of the Mill Town Millionaires series from Dani Wade.
The Renegade
Returns
Dani Wade
DANI WADE astonished her local librarians as a teenager when she carried home ten books every week—and actually read them all. Now she writes her own characters, who clamor for attention in the midst of the chaos that is her life. Residing in the Southern United States with a husband, two kids, two dogs and one grumpy cat, she stays busy until she can closet herself away with her characters once more.
To My Mother
You instilled an early love of reading in me that has shaped who I truly am. Your encouragement throughout my life has helped me believe in myself, even when it was hard. Every day I use the dedicated work ethic and practicality you taught me to make my dreams a reality. Thank you.
I’ve watched up close as you’ve fought hard, worked steadfastly, prayed with belief and loved with everything in you. I only hope someday to be able to do the same half as well as you. All my love…
Contents
Ignoring stares and whispers was an art form Lucas Blackstone had perfected. The more wins he claimed as a stock car racer, the more attention he attracted. Which was normally fine by him. In fact, he thrived on it.
Used to thrive on it.
Tonight, he wished he could fade into the wainscoting on the walls so people would stop staring. Stop whispering about his arrival at the country club. Stop measuring the difficulty with which he walked to his family’s chosen table. Stop speculating about whether his racing days as Renegade Blackstone were permanently over.
Just as he did during the long, dark hours of every night.
Instead, he pretended this was a normal night, a normal dinner with his family. Not his debut before his hometown after having his body broken into more pieces than any man should experience.
His back straight, he vowed to himself that he would beat this with every single step.
“You’re doing so well,” Christina softly encouraged him as he carefully placed each footfall on the way to their table. As their resident nurse and his brother Aiden’s wife, she had been tracking Luke’s progress since his accident earlier this year. “But by the end of the evening, you might be wishing for that wheelchair you refused.”
“No,” he said through teeth he tried not to clench. He didn’t quite succeed.
He would not resort to invalid status. The marble-handled cane he leaned on was his single concession to his still-healing legs. The plonk every time it met the floor sounded loud in his head, even though he knew it hardly made a sound.
“All that macho stoicism will lead to one thing,” she warned as they reached their destination. Then she rolled her eyes when the men all booed. “I’m serious, Luke. Pretending you don’t need help will just make getting out of bed tomorrow more painful.”
“You’re so cute when you’re concerned,” he cooed back, laughing when she stuck out her tongue.
The reality couldn’t always be covered by his teasing mask—but he sure tried. He’d become a close buddy with pain since his car accident. During everyday tasks, during rehabilitation. Sometimes it shot through him under the cloak of a dead sleep. He hated it, but pain could be good. The sharp sting reminded