Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 71015 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71015 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
My hand went over my mouth and I looked at Iliana, wide eyed. “Did you slip me a roofie?”
She laughed. “Oh, my God. He’s walking this way.”
Wasting no time, I backed out of the spot and spun my wheels in my haste to get out of the parking lot.
“He’s laughing,” she said as she watched until she could see no more. “I do believe, Tru, that you now have yourself a sexy firefighter admirer.”
Chapter 1
Fuck going to my happy place. I’m going to my naughty place.
-E-card
Torren
“Just drop me off right here. I can walk inside,” I snarled at the orderly that had insisted she bring me down here.
The woman, Bianca, I think she said her name was, smiled tightly at me. “It’s hospital protocol.”
I rolled my eyes and stayed in the chair even though I didn’t need it.
“Here we are, Mr. Trammel. Tru will be with you in just a moment,” Bianca stammered, before practically running away.
I guess I could’ve been a little hard on the poor girl, but I wasn’t in the best of moods.
For one, I wasn’t even in the hospital anymore, so why the fuck did I need to ride in a wheelchair?
Two, my shoulder hurt.
I hadn’t been able to work in over a month, and I missed my friend.
Tunnel, the man I’d suggested join The Dixie Wardens MC, had died of smoke inhalation a little over a month ago, and I’d just seen his widow on the way down here.
He’d died in the same fire where I’d hurt my shoulder, tearing my rotator cuff in my quest to save another biker’s woman, Rue.
Only, I’d been lucky and he hadn’t.
Tunnel had been married. Had a young daughter. He’d been a police officer.
What was I?
Nothing.
I’d had to break down the thin wall between Rue’s apartment and the one next door with a computer chair and, in the process, had fucked my shoulder up pretty good.
A week later, I’d had surgery, and now I was in therapy after a two week break to get the inflammation to settle down before starting to build my strength back.
“Hi, Mr. Trammel, I’m Tru and I’m going to be your COTA,” a woman came in saying as she looked at the chart in her hands. “How are you feeling?”
It didn’t take me long to realize who she was once she looked up.
It was the woman from the bar a couple of months ago.
The one who’d jumped in my arms like she was my lover and hugged me in front of Molly. Which had changed the last two months of my life.
It shouldn’t have felt so good.
Not when I’d wanted Molly.
The woman had been a stranger.
But as I’d held her in my arms for a few long moments, I’d been reluctant to let her go. I’d had to restrain myself from clutching her to me and kissing the hell out of her.
In fact, she’d been the one to let go and look sheepish. Her muttered, “Oh, wrong person,” had followed in her wake.
I couldn’t keep my eyes off her for the rest of the time she was there.
She was around average height for a woman. Five six or so, with long, wavy blonde hair.
It looked like she’d been out in the sun a lot. It had a lot of highlights in it, and looked great against her lime green scrubs.
“You,” I said smartly.
She smiled sheepishly. “Oh…hey. I didn’t realize it was you.”
I tilted my head. “Yeah, it’s me. The random guy you jumped.”
She cracked a smile instead of looking scared.
She had beautiful white, straight teeth.
The kind that probably cost a mint to fix.
“I did not jump you,” she interjected, a smile tipping up the corner of her lips.
I shrugged. “You jumped in my arms. Same thing.”
She laughed. A deep throated, throw your head back, kind of laugh, causing me to smile right along with her.
“It is not the same thing, and you know it,” she giggled. “Are you ready to get started?”
I grinned deviously back at her. “My body is your temple. Do with me as you please.”
It was her turn to look devious. “Remember you told me that in about an hour.”
***
I laid back on the padded table and gritted my teeth.
Pain.
Everywhere.
Everything hurt.
My back hurt. My legs hurt. My head hurt.
“Why do my toes hurt?” I groaned.
She gave me a patient look. “Because every time you lifted your arm up, or I moved it where you didn’t like it, you stood on your tiptoes to get away from the pain. It’ll never get any better if you don’t push yourself past your comfort zone.”
My eyes narrowed. “You don’t think I’m going past my comfort zone?”
She shook her head. “I know you’re not.”
I sat up, wincing as I did, and narrowed my eyes at her.
She wasn’t my favorite person at the moment, and it was hard for me to keep myself from lashing out at her.
Even if she was hot.
The last hour had been intense.
Today was my first day of occupational therapy on the road to recovery, and it was frustrating as shit when I couldn’t even hold a goddamned pencil.
I’d practiced putting on my shirt countless times - something that I used to do without thought, now took intense concentration to make sure I didn’t fuck anything up worse.
“What makes you say that?” I asked her.
She pursed her lips, causing the skin around her nose to wrinkle cutely.
Too bad I was too pissed to find it any cuter.
“You’re overly cautious. You stopped before it even started to hurt. You were anticipating the hurt, so you didn’t go as far as you probably could have,” she said frankly.
I blinked.
Had I been doing that?
I’ve always been one to know my limits.
Not knowing your limits was a damn good way to get other people killed.
However, I did know how to push past those limits. For instance, beating a hole in a wall with a computer chair was past my limits, and I was paying for it now.
I would do it again in a heartbeat.
“Okay,” I said as I sat up on the table, letting my feet dangle over the side. “Do me again.”