Inked by an Angel (17 page)

He shook his head and took a sip of beer. “Not boring at all. I’m impressed. You can fold a fitted sheet?” He whistled through his teeth. “Hot damn.”

She laughed.

He tilted his head, suddenly serious. “What kind of movies? This could be a deal breaker. Please, no
Steel Magnolias
or some bullshit like that.”

She forked her rice. “Truth?”

“I can handle it.”

“Let’s put it this way, I’m waiting for Jason Statham to come sweep me off my feet and propose marriage.”

He barked out a laugh. “Good luck with that.”

She laughed, too.

They finished their meal with grins on their faces. Kyle sipped the last remnants of her margarita, slurping the remaining bits of her tequila high straight to her brain. She stood as Jed paid the bill, just in time to hear one of the men next to them mutter something that sounded an awful lot like ‘
freak.’

She’d had enough. She rounded on them like a snake coiled and ready to strike.

Jed grabbed her arm. “Let it go,” he murmured under his breath.

She pulled from his grasp and shot him a glare over her shoulder. “No. You are
not
a freak. And you don’t deserve to be treated this way.”

The plea in his eyes silently entreated her to remain cool. But the liquor had created a monster and she was going to stand up for her man. Whether he wanted it or not.

She snapped back to the table and the four pairs of eyes watching her. She stepped in their direction and slapped her hands down on the table, rattling their water glasses. “Do we have a problem here?” she demanded.

“Uh . . .” one of the men stammered.

The other man stared at her, slack-jawed. One woman crossed her arms defiantly under her huge breasts, and refused to speak. But the one closest to her, the one who had been most vocal during the entire meal, spoke up. “Yes, I suppose we do.”

Kyle rounded on her. “And what
exactly
is that?”

Jed sighed behind her. “Kyle, let’s just go.”

She ignored him.

The woman glanced over Kyle’s shoulder then back into her face. “We live in a nice, respectable town. With nice, respectable folks. And I have a problem with just
anyone
coming in with their disgusting freaky ways and dirtying up my town,” she shot back with a sneer.

Kyle straightened. “Well, lucky for you, we’re leaving. But let me tell you something. This
disgusting, freaky
man—” She pointed behind her.“—is one of the kindest, best men I know. It’s your loss if you’re too small-minded to see beyond his appearance.” She reached for his hand. “Which I happen to find very sexy. Let’s go, Jed.” She pulled him out of the restaurant and toward the car.

He yanked her to a stop at the Mustang. “Whoa there, warrior princess. You mean all that in there?”

She gazed up at him. “Of course. What do you mean?” She leaned against the car as the tequila started to make her head spin. Or maybe it was him as he inched closer and cupped her hip with his hand.

“You think I’m kind? One of the best men you know?”

She nodded. “Sure. Sometimes,” she amended.

He pressed his forehead to hers. “And sexy?”

Her heart was pounding as her hands gripped his waist. “Maybe.”

He rubbed his nose across hers before releasing her. “Was it because I baited your hook?”

She waited until he opened her car door and she’d slid inside. She didn’t meet his gaze. “Of course.” Not.

The following morning dawned dreary and drizzly, just like Kyle’s mood as she packed up to go home. She’d managed to finish up with the files last night, so her time here at the lake had been productive. But as far as time alone with Jed, it only made her heart more confused. One minute he was charming, the next a surly grump. He could touch her heart and her body with utter charm one moment and break her spirit the next. The stronger her feelings for him grew, the more dangerous he was to her. But what should she do about it? What
could
she do about it?

She zipped up her overnight case with a sigh and plopped down on the edge of the bed. He was smart to have put a stop to their—what would you call it? Make-out session? Romp? Near miss? She ran a hand through her hair, wishing it had been so much more.

“Hey, Muffet,” he called from down the hall, his voice still coated with sleep. “You gonna be ready to hit the road soon? I wanna be outta here before the weather gets any worse.”

She stood and opened the door. “Sure. Just give me a couple minutes.”

“I’ll load up my stuff,” he said and a few seconds later the screen door slapped shut behind him.

She finished packing up her toiletries and slipped on her shoes. The drizzle became a steady tap as rain began to beat against the window. For some reason, she wanted to cry. She was going to miss this place and the easiness she had with Jed here. They were going back to real life now and what they had before, whatever that was. Or wasn’t.

He appeared at the door wiping raindrops from his head. “Got anything you want me to load up yet?”

“I’m ready.” She handed him her bag and her laptop case with a tight smile. She picked up her purse and the folders of paperwork. She followed him out the door and flipped off the light switch. She gave the room one last look, hoping against hope that she would have an occasion to be back again someday.

He locked up the front door and they made a mad dash out to the car, which he already had idling.

They jumped in and she adjusted her seatbelt and settled in for the ride home as the rain continued to pelt the windshield.

He pulled out slowly onto the country road and drove in silence. She shifted in her seat to study his profile. Something unspoken had changed between them during this trip, but she couldn’t pinpoint what it was exactly.

He reached over and adjusted the radio so it was a soft hum in the background.

“Thank you for bringing me with you this weekend. It was beautiful,” she finally said to ease the silence.

He nodded, not breaking his concentration, as they turned onto the two-lane, winding highway that would lead them nearly all the way home.

A peal of lightening lit the dark sky, followed by a boom of thunder, making Kyle jump in her seat. Most of the rain had let up, eerily enough, but the storm continued to rumble above them angrily. She tried to concentrate on the music coming from the radio to keep herself from being spooked by the weather. No reason to be nervous.

She leaned her head back and listened, a small smile tugging at her lips as Manfred Mann sang about being blinded by the light. She and her brother used to love that one. Bry never did understand the lyrics. “What’s so funny?” Jed asked, bringing her out of the memory.

“Nothing. Just remembering something about when me and my brother were kids.”

“Ah.” He returned his attention to the road.

A few miles later, the song ended as they rounded a steep curve. In the space of a heartbeat, she was snapped forward in her seatbelt, Jed’s arm thrown protectively against her chest as he tried to right the direction of the car.

Frantically, she looked up. He was swerving to avoid the dually truck that was barreling straight for them as it hydroplaned maniacally on the slick road.

It was too late. With the force of a freight train, the monster of a truck slammed into the front fender on Jed’s side of the car and sent them careening toward the edge of the road. Around and around they spun, until the wheel caught on something and the car flipped.

The metal roof hit the wet pavement with an angry screech as the car took its first violent roll. After that, the world was black.

Kyle woke, groggy to the steady hum of a distant radio and a pounding headache. Darkness tugged her under, but she struggled toward the light and wakefulness. She fought to open her eyes, wondering why they stung so badly. She reached up and dabbed them. She pulled back her fingers and studied the crimson stains.
Blood?
Her eyes were caked with her own blood.

She moaned and turned slightly. She was in a car? Facing a creek bed?

In a flash, it came back.

“Jed!” she tried to call out, but her voice was weak. “Jed, where are you?”

Muffled voices approached the wreckage as help came their way. Relief swamped through her. But where was Jed?
Oh, God!

She heard a moan behind her. She fumbled with the seatbelt that was holding her in place and tried to turn around. “Jed?”

Finally, she caught a glimpse of him. His face was battered and bruised, blood running down his temple from a gash on his head. She wasn’t sure if he was conscious.

“Oh, God, Jed. Answer me!” she cried. “Please!”

She reached toward him, but realized it was futile. His seat had somehow been thrown back and he was now embedded into the backseat, his legs pinned beneath the crushed metal of what used to be the car’s rear fender.

He cracked open the one eye that wasn’t whelped shut. “Muffet?”

“Yes. Yes.”
Oh, thank you, God.
“Are you all right?”

He drifted a moment, then whispered, “I can’t feel anything anymore, baby.”

“Kyle? Sweetie, wake up. Can you hear me?”

The voices were like faint echoes at the end of a long hallway. She tried to ignore them and descended back into the dark recesses of slumber that beckoned.

“We should let her rest, Mother.” Bryan’s voice, gruff with fatigue.

Yes, please, she thought. She hurt all over. Her head throbbed, she was nauseated, and her muscles ached. But, above all, she was utterly exhausted. She wished they would all just go away and let her sleep. Why were they here, anyway?

She had no strength to open her eyes. Not yet. She heard a muffled cough. The rustling of a newspaper. Someone sighing as they settled into a padded vinyl seat of some kind.

Finally, it was silent again except for a consistent beeping above her head.

A door
whooshed
open after a terse knock. There was a woman’s voice she’d never heard before greeting her family. “Good morning,” she said in a sweet, southern drawl. “And how is our patient this morning?”

Patient?

“She seems a little bit restless today,” her mother said, her voice clearly strained. “Do you think she’s waking up finally?”

Kyle smelled the woman’s lotion and sensed someone leaning over her as something was pressed to her chest. Kyle tried to open her eyes. Nothing. She had no energy.

The woman’s cool fingers fiddled with something that was taped to her arm. “Well,” the woman said, “that could be. We’ll have to wait and see. But her vital signs are stable. She looks good. Her brain is healing. Just give her time. The doctors say she’ll be fine. And remember, we kept her sedated for a little while, but we’re tapering that down now, so she should be waking up soon.”

The woman chatted with her family a few minutes longer, while Kyle tried to process what the heck they were talking about. Something about it all seemed vaguely familiar, but her brain couldn’t puzzle it together quite yet.

“Don’t you worry,” the woman said kindly on her way out, “your daughter will be fine.”

The door wasn’t closed two seconds when Kyle heard her mother take a cleansing breath and mutter: “No thanks to that tattooed riff raff she’s been consorting with. He nearly got my daughter killed. What was she doing with him way out here anyhow? It’s unseemly!”

“Mother,” Bryan cut in, his tone urging her to keep it down.

“Yes, Mrs. O’Neill, please calm down. There’s no need to upset yourself. We don’t know all the details yet. There could be a harmless explanation,” Charles spoke up.

Wait
. Charles? What was he doing here?

Her mother huffed a breath. “Maybe. But she
should
have been with you. Then none of this would’ve happened.”

“Be that as it may,” Charles answered, his tone placating, “she
wasn’t
with me. Now, I hope to rectify that situation as soon as possible, but for now, all we can do is be here to support Kyle when she wakes up.”

Kyle couldn’t believe it. Once again, her mother and Charles were trying to take over her life. And through it all—through the fog of her fatigue, the nausea, the pain all her heart cried out for was Jed. Where was
he
?

She dug deep and pooled all the energy she could muster and focused on opening her eyes. The first flutter of her eyelids took all she had. She tried again. Finally, she got them cracked open and was blinded by the fluorescent lights of the room. She squinted until she could get her bearings. Cream-colored walls with some kind of pictures she couldn’t focus on. A stainless steel sink in the corner. A computer.

She turned her head slightly. Mistake. Nausea rolled over her in waves and she sucked in a painful breath. As the feeling subsided, she took in another set of computer monitors with lines and numbers and the beeping she’d heard earlier. Just to the side was an IV pole and a bag of steadily dripping fluid.

“Kyle? Darling?” Charles noticed that she was awake first and rushed to her side. He gazed into her eyes and pushed the hair from her forehead with a cool hand. “Oh, sweetheart, I love you so much. We’ve been so worried.”

She licked her dry lips. She couldn’t speak.

He leaned down and kissed her cheek as her mother, father and Bryan all joined him at her bedside.

Her mother pushed in and grabbed her hand. “Kyle, my baby! You’re awake! Thank goodness!”

Bryan smiled while he looked on and her father leaned over and pressed a kiss to her nose. “Love you, punkin’.”

Kyle tried again to push words past her parched throat. She didn’t understand what all the fuss was about. Her father hadn’t called her punkin’ in years. And were those tears in his eyes? Even her mother looked truly worried about someone other than herself.

“Wh . . .?” was all she could muster, but it came out as a faint whisper.

“I think she wants to talk,” Bryan said. He looked at Kyle. “Is your throat dry? You want some water?”

She nodded, grateful that someone around here was trying to be thoughtful.

He grabbed the bedside pitcher and poured her a small glassful. He brought the straw to her lips and she took a grateful swallow.
Heaven
. She laid her head back on the pillow with a contented sigh.

“What happened?” she was able to get out when she tried again.

Nobody seemed to want to speak. She looked from face to face. Finally Bryan stepped in to answer her. “You were in a car accident, sis. You and your friend were hit head on and the car you were in flipped several times.” He glanced down at the toe of his shoe before looking back up at her. “You got a pretty bad concussion and some cuts and bruises, but other than that you were very lucky.”

She stared at him blankly for several moments as it all sank in. Car accident. Roll over. Concussion. She would be fine.

She blinked as her brain finally clicked into the one key detail her heart was holding on to. “You said friend?”

Bryan shrugged. “Yeah. I don’t remember his name.” He turned to Charles. “Do you?”

Charles opened his mouth to speak, but he didn’t have to. Kyle’s heart filled in the missing pieces for her. She closed her eyes. “Jed.”

“Yes,” Charles confirmed.

She turned to Bryan, the most compassionate one in the room. “Please, tell me, is he . . .?” She couldn’t say it. “I need to know.”

He nodded. Something in his eyes said he understood. “I’ll see what I can find out.” He turned and left the room.

Charles tried to hold her hand but she shook him off. Her mother tried to talk to her but she ignored her. Thankfully, her father didn’t do anything more than take his post in a chair in the corner and read his newspaper. She wanted none of it until she had word on Jed.

Finally, what seemed hours later but was probably only about fifteen minutes, Bryan returned. He offered his most solemn look as he took her hand in his.

“I’m sorry, Kyle . . .”

Her heart sank.

“They won’t give me any information because I’m not family.” He shot her a wink. “So I worked around ‘em. I called the studio where you’ve been working and found out that he was transported to a hospital in Austin. So,” he continued, “that’s good news and bad news. Good news because I at least figured out
where
he is. Bad news because his injuries were bad enough that he had to be taken there in the first place. It must’ve been pretty serious. And I have no idea on his status as of right now. I’m sorry.”

She gave his hand a squeeze. “Thank you for that.”

“No worries, sis.”

Charles sidled up and took her other hand with a brush of his lips to her knuckles. “Ah, darling, why don’t you rest now? I’ll be here to watch over you.”

She felt the fatigue tugging at her again, at war with her need to know Jed’s status. But what good was she to him if she couldn’t even hold her eyes open? And she longed to know if he was okay. She ached to be with him, to touch him. But something in the near and tender reaches of her soul just knew he was alive. As sure as she breathed, so did he.

Charles rubbed his fingers across her wrist in small circles and whispered sweet nothings to her. But it meant nothing. As the heaviness of sheer blackness pulled her under, she realized something profound. What she had with Jed, whether he returned her feelings or not, was deep and true and was what had always been missing.

Kyle awoke with a start. A face hovered above her, a halo of light shimmering around his head.

“Michael?” she whispered.

He stepped back and smiled down at her. “Miz O’Neill! I’m so glad you’re awake.” He gripped her hand. “Are you feeling better?”

She wasn’t sure. Her head still ached. Nausea still threatened. But overall, she did feel a little less groggy and the pain was easing.

She looked around the room. “My family?”

“They stepped out for a few minutes. I told them I’d keep an eye on you.” He shrugged, looking chagrined. “I think I intimidate them.”

She tried to sit up. Her head started spinning.

“Whoa there, slow down. Where’re you trying to get off to?” He put a gentle hand out to keep her still.

“I need to get out of here.” But she felt like a sack of mashed potatoes. How was she ever going to get out of this bed?

“Well, Miz O’Neill, you’ve been in and out of consciousness for a good three and a half days. I don’t think you’re in any condition to be going anywhere right now.”

She sagged back, knowing he was right. “Oh, Michael. Do you know how Jed is?”

He sat next to her, his weight dipping the bed. “I’m sorry, I don’t. I heard he was taken to Brackenridge Hospital in Austin because of his injuries while you were brought here—”

“Where is here? Where am I?” she interrupted.

“You’re at a small hospital in Burnet not far from the scene of the accident.”

She closed her eyes briefly then opened them to focus on Michael’s face. “Please. I need to know if he’s all right. Can you find out for me?”

She saw something in his eyes, a sense of communion perhaps, as he formed his words. “I don’t know. We’ve all tried. Me, Noble, even Kierstan. We’re not family so the hospital won’t tell us a thing.”

She began to feel frantic as fear licked at her heart. “What about his mom? Has anyone called her?”

He dipped his head. “Noble says she’s not answering. She’s probably holed up at the hospital with her phone off.”

“Then somebody needs to go up there!” she practically shouted, making him lift his head. “What’s wrong with you people?” she went on as a second wind gave her energy she didn’t have before. “I guess I’ll just have to do it myself.” She yanked at the covers that were pinning her to the bed, but Michael’s girth was holding her hostage.

“Miz O’Neill?” he studied her with questions much deeper than simply where she was going shining in his eyes.

She looked right back. It was now or never. Nobody in her family would understand. Perhaps Michael wouldn’t either. But he was her best shot. She gripped his hand with all her might. “Michael,” she spoke with all the conviction she could muster. “Please try to understand. I
need
to get to Jed. Now. Will you help me?”

He shifted and cradled her face between his huge hands. Then he pierced her with a gaze so intense, it was as if he was searching her soul, and she was unable to form a coherent thought for a split-second. When he released her, miraculously her headache was gone, her nausea had disappeared. Her body felt, well, rejuvenated. It must’ve been because she saw the answer in his eyes before he said it.

“Yes. I’ll help you, Miz O’Neill. But we gotta hurry before your family comes back.”

He gathered her clothes from the small closet in the corner of the room and found her a hospital issue comb, toothbrush, and toothpaste so she could try to look presentable. He helped her disconnect the IV tubing and she yanked the catheter from her arm and held a paper towel to the site to staunch the small flow of blood while Michael dug up a Band-aid from a drawer.

She excused herself to the bathroom to change and use the toiletries he’d found. She studied herself in the mirror.
Holy Toledo
, she looked horrible! Oh, well. She quickly shucked the hospital gown and put on the clothes Michael had found. They were the ones she’d been wearing the day of the accident. She was lucky they hadn’t cut them off of her! But dirt and blood caked her shorts and a there was a small tear at the bottom of her T-shirt. She dampened a washcloth and tried to wipe off what she could before leaning over and washing her face and brushing her teeth.

She ran the comb through her ratty hair and made a semblance of a ponytail with the rubber band she found in the pocket of her shorts and then slipped on her flip-flops. It was the best she could do for now, but she would kill for a shower. That would just have to wait until she laid eyes on Jed. Priorities.

She took a breath and stepped out to find Michael waiting for her with a grin on his face. “What’re you smiling about?”

“Nothing. Life is good, that’s all.”

“Whatever.” She searched fruitlessly for her purse. “Let’s go.”

He ducked his head out the door, making sure it was all clear, then led her out. She felt like an escaped convict as they made a break for it, but the fresh air felt heavenly on her cheeks and the sunshine was a welcome reprieve from the confines of the hospital room.

Michael led her to a bright blue Volkswagen Beetle and opened the door for her.

She looked up at him in surprise. “You drive this?”

He stammered a bit. “Yeah. When my Harley’s in the shop. What’s wrong with it?”

She smiled. “Nothing. Not a thing.” She slid inside with a laugh.

He walked around and got in the driver’s side. He turned over the engine and the radio started jamming Barry Mannilow’s “Copacabana” loud enough to burst Kyle’s eardrums. He couldn’t turn it off fast enough, his face flaming red. This gave her the biggest fit of the giggles she’d had in a long time. Big, bad Michael ‘The Angel’ Smith, sought after Tattoo artist and generally cool dude, wasn’t that big and bad after all. He was a
Fannilow!