Timing (191 page)

with his six-pack abs, was a work of art. He had the whole V-line to

him, and he was big; the top of my head would have notched right

under his chin if he were to ever pull me into his arms. I was aware of

his size and the heat radiating off his body, the scent of his skin, and the

tender way that he was touching me. I could barely breathe.

“Your right eye is gonna be beautiful in the morning,” he assured

me, his voice hoarse.

I grinned, lifting my hands to his forearms, thinking to move them

off me. It was hard to think with him touching me. “I’ll look great in

pictures.”

“You always look good.”

I always looked good? My fingers were closed around his wrists,

but he didn’t let me go, still holding my face in his hands.

I stared up into his eyes. “Ask you a question?”

“G’head.”

“Are you drunk?”

His grin fired his eyes, made them glow a gorgeous shade of deep

sea blue. “No. Are you?”

I shook my head just a little.

“What?”

I could only stare at him.

He chuckled, and the sound came from deep in his chest. “You’re

wondering why we’re speaking, right?”

Among other things.

Timing

43

There was a quick exhale of breath from him. “I always try and

talk to you, but you usually go right for my throat, and so by the time I

get a chance to get a word in edgewise, I just want it to be the worst

thing I can think of.”

I was stunned. I had no idea I had any effect on him at all.

His fingers slid into my hair. “I’m not sayin’ I don’t deserve it. I

reckon the first thing I ever said to you pretty much took care of us.”

I was in
The
Twilight Zone
, I just knew it.

“But since we’re both in Char’s life, I figure our paths are gonna

keep crossin’.”

I nodded.

“So how ’bout I’ll try and not be such a bastard, and in return if

you could maybe talk first and shoot second, then that’d be good.”

My eyes were locked on his.

“How’d that be? We both give some.”

I smiled at him. “I could do that.” It would be a relief, actually.

Hating Rand Holloway took a lot of energy every time I saw him.

He nodded and smiled slowly, his hands dropping off me to be

shoved into the pockets of his jeans. “I have appreciated everything

you’ve ever done for Char, Stefan, even when you were a self-righteous

prick about it.”

“Me?” I was incredulous.

He laughed then, and I couldn’t help the smile that I gave him

back. It was overwhelming, the sudden ease, and I was thankful.

“Let’s go put some ice on that eye, all right?”

I nodded.

We walked in silence to the living room, and I took a seat where

he pointed. I was no different from anyone else; we all wanted to do

whatever Rand said.

“Stefan, honey, are you all right?”

Instantly, Charlotte was all over me, as were the rest of the

bridesmaids. Ben came to check on me again, and so did Charlotte’s

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Mary Calmes

mother. I was told to sit and eat and not move. Eating, of course, could

fix anything that ailed you.

Everyone was sitting down around me by the time Rand got back

with the icepack for my eye. Charlotte snatched it from him and

covered the right side of my face. I was surprised when he didn’t just

leave but instead took a seat on the floor next to me. Ben’s mother

delivered me a plate piled high with food. After I ate, I settled back,

slouching down, getting comfortable, listening to everyone talking, not

wanting to move too much as Rand’s shoulder was pressed along the

length of my left leg. It was stupid, and I felt like an idiot, but I

couldn’t help my reaction. Not disturbing him was key.

I must have drifted off, but what woke me was Rand moving. He

was no longer on the floor but beside me, shoulder-to-shoulder with me

on the couch.

“You okay?” he asked, turning to look into my face.

“What?” I was groggy with sleep, aware only of his closeness, his

knee against mine, and how hot my body was. Waking up to a beautiful

man, there was only one place for my mind could go, to the man in

question buried inside me.

“You made a noise,” Rand said, his cobalt eyes locked on my

face. “Are you in pain?”

Was that a trick question?

“Stefan?”

I tried to think about anything other than being flat on my back

under Rand Holloway. It proved very difficult. “I’m fine,” I said,

clearing my throat. “Excuse me.”

I stood up fast. I needed air, lots of air, and wide-open spaces. My

body was hot; my cock was hard, I had to put distance between Rand

and me immediately. I had no idea that just a little of his attention

would be mind-numbing.

“You all right? You need to lie down?”

He was trying to kill me. “I’m good.” I barely got the words out,

certain from the way he was looking at me that he had no earthly idea

what was going on in my head.

Timing

45

Rand was just being nice to me, and all my thoughts had him

sweaty and naked in my bed. I needed to work off some energy so my

thoughts would turn from carnal back to normal. Going for a run

seemed like a really good idea. I bolted upstairs as fast as I could. After

changing into running shorts, shoes, and a long-sleeved T-shirt, I made

my escape before anyone came looking for me.

It was soothing to be alone, and I enjoyed the solitude, thinking

about everything I had to do when I got back home, wondering what

Mrs. Freeman would decide and how whatever the outcome was would

affect me.

The scenery was beautiful—the trees, the wildflowers, and the

greenest grass I’d ever seen in my life—but still I was thinking about

work until Rand suddenly filled my mind. What the hell was going on

with Charlotte’s brother, and how in the world had I gone from hating

the man to lust that fast? How shallow was I? Had my initial feelings

never changed and so as soon as he called a cease-fire I was free to

want him all over again? And what about all the things I knew to be

true about him? How could I even like anyone as homophobic as Rand

Holloway? It was all running around in my head, and because of that, I

never even saw the truck.

The horn jarred me, and when I turned, I heard the roar of the

engine seconds before the grill would have been on top of me. I dove

right and there was no ground, only air. I tucked my head and rolled. I

didn’t stop. The hill was much steeper than it looked like from the top,

and I tumbled off a ledge before I was suddenly hurled down into thick

mud. The last drop had to be at least five feet. I couldn’t breathe, as all

the air had been slammed from my body.

I lay there staring up at the solid blue sky and watched the way

the branches above me whipped around in the breeze. It was actually

kind of pretty.

“Hey!”

I couldn’t have made a sound even if I wanted to. Now that I was

no longer falling, I was a little nauseous, so I didn’t want to move too

quickly. I was trying to determine if I was hurt or not.

“Hey!”

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Mary Calmes

He must have stopped right above me, because leaves rained

down on top of me.

“Oh Christ,” he groaned, jumping down beside me, splattering

more mud on my face and neck.

“Could you not,” I said sharply, finding my voice, looking up at

his face. “Oh shit,” I braced, positive that he was there to hurt me.

“Ohmigod, you’re all right.” It was the guy who had tried to hit

Ben, Charlotte’s cousin Brandon. He was there, kneeling down beside

me with one hand on my chest and the other on my shoulder. “Can you

move?”

“Get off me! You just tried to kill me!”

“No!” He sounded panicky. “I wanted to talk to you and

apologize, but then I saw you go for a run, and I thought I’d follow and

try and talk to you, but when I saw that other truck gettin’ close to you,

lookin’ like it might hit you, I blew my––”

“Shut up.” I cut off his rambling, incredulous, watching him sway

just standing over me. “You’re drunk and you’re driving? How stupid

are you?”

“I just––I never act like… I’m so sorry, you gotta believe––”

“You tried to run me off the road,” I said, starting to sit up.

“No.” He knelt down beside me. “It wasn’t me. I saved you. Now

lemme help.”

“No, just––don’t,” I snapped, brushing his hands off me. “Just

move back, all right?”

He tried to smile, reaching for me again. “Please lemme help.”

I could feel my eyebrows furrowing. “Fuck you, no,” I growled,

pulling my knees up, taking a breath, and trying to get my bearings.

“Wow,” he chuckled, stepping back, hands in his pockets. “You

got a temper on you, huh?”

“Not usually,” I growled again, getting slowly to my feet, bending

over, hands on my knees. “God, I’m gonna be crippled tomorrow.”

“Oh shit,” he breathed out, pointing. “You’re bleeding.”

Timing

47

I looked down at my long-sleeved, once white, now mud-stained

T-shirt and saw the blood stain. But I wasn’t hurt. I knew my body.

“It’s not mine.”

We both saw his arm at the same time. The cut was wide, but it

didn’t look deep. A flap of skin was hanging open. It looked like mine

had when I had wiped out on a surfboard on the coral in Hawaii two

summers before.

“You probably need stitches.”

“Oh geez,” he said softly.

When I looked up at him, I saw him start to sway before his eyes

rolled back in his head. I shifted quickly and caught him before he

passed out cold.

“Aw, for crissakes,” I yelled hoarsely, holding him in my arms.

Who actually fainted at the sight of blood? I dragged him a few feet to

the right so I could see up the long hill. It was steep, but it was covered

in grass and dirt. The climb was doable, just not something I was

looking forward to, especially with the added weight. And he was not a

small guy. He was taller than me, close to six-two and more muscular.

But what was I going to do? Leave him in a ravine in a swoon? How

safe was that?

“Fuck me,” I said aloud, because even bitching to no one, I felt a

little better.

I checked him for a cell phone and, finding none, resigned myself

to carrying him, because I didn’t have mine either. Who took a cell

phone for a run? I was used to being close to everything. There was

nowhere at home where there wouldn’t be people around to help me.

This was what I got for running alone.

It’s probably called “dead weight” because you feel like you’re

going to die when you carry someone who’s passed out. What had

taken seconds to fall down took hours going back up. And even though

logically, I knew that I was exaggerating, it seemed like I could feel

every muscle in my body when I finally made it to his huge Ford

pickup. The driver’s side door was hanging open, the truck still running

as I reached it. I rested a second, leaning him against the hood of the

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Mary Calmes

truck, before I opened the door and dumped him in the passenger seat.

When I went around to the driver’s side, he was slumped over with his

face on the dashboard. Once I had his head back against the headrest

and he was buckled in, I slammed the door shut, put my forehead on

the steering wheel, and closed my eyes. “Exhausted” didn’t do it

justice. I wouldn’t need to run for a week.

Fortunately, he had a GPS system in his truck, and once I entered

what I needed, I had driving directions for the University Medical

Center. Halfway there, the guy came around, only to swoon again when

he saw my shirt. He was beyond useless. Half an hour later, I parked

outside the ER where I wasn’t supposed to, left the car there, and got

out. Nobody yelled at me as I carried Brandon into the hospital.

Since I knew nothing about him and wasn’t family, I got to wait

outside. And wait, and wait some more. An hour later, a nurse called

me in to explain as much as I could about his injuries, and when they

looked at me, they insisted that I be checked out as well. I was covered

in cuts and bruises and I was sore, but I was sure that was all. They

wanted to be certain. I got to have pictures of my brain taken, and three

hours later, when I was finally allowed back to my room, I was told

that I didn’t even have a concussion. I could have saved everyone a lot

of time and effort if they had just listened to me to begin with. I