Total pages in book: 179
Estimated words: 170878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 170878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
I smiled back. “Well, I assume that most people you meet on the job aren’t having their best day.”
He shrugged. “Sometimes not. I like being able to try to help make people’s days, or nights, better. Need a ride?”
I opened my mouth to answer, but the screech of tires distracted me. Both Oscar and I turned our heads to the pickup truck arriving at the scene, then the large man who darted out the door.
Beau’s eyes zeroed in on me before he jogged toward me.
I stood statue still as he barged forward, almost shoulder-checking Oscar—a police officer—to delicately grasp on to my jaw, tilting my head upward to the streetlight.
His stormy eyes centered on my head for five seconds—I counted—then he scanned the rest of my body, as if I might have a bone sticking out of me somewhere and had neglected to notice.
“You okay?” he asked softly.
I nodded, though my chin smarted underneath his fingertips. “I’m fine.”
He searched my face again, not saying anything for a handful of seconds. “You need to go to the hospital, get that looked at?” He tipped his chin to my head.
“It’s a scratch, maybe a mild concussion,” I told him, my breath thin, my heart pounding in my ears.
“You’re bleeding and mildly concussed, that’s not fucking fine,” he disagreed in a clipped tone.
I swallowed at his anger, which was maybe his way of expressing concern. “If you’ll remember, I have medical knowledge to know how to treat a mild concussion. I can be treated at home with some over-the-counter pain relief and maybe a bath.”
I figured I’d wake up with sore muscles tomorrow. Even a mild car accident could cause muscles to tense and adrenaline to course through your body.
Beau was silent again for another few beats, as if he were deciding whether he was going to argue with me. It occurred to me then that he was still cupping my cheek.
“Okay,” he said finally. “Let’s get you home.”
Beau turned to Oscar, who was still standing in front of me. “Can we help you?” he asked, voice tight.
My breath hitched at the use of the royal we. As if we were a we.
The officer gulped audibly. “I was offering Hannah a ride home, but it looks like she’s taken care of.”
“She’s taken care of.” Beau glared daggers. Then, without another word, he slipped his hand from my cheek to my lower back, guiding me away before I could process what was happening.
I looked over my shoulder. “It was nice to meet you, Oscar!”
Oscar waved hesitantly, as if he were trying to understand what had just happened.
That made the both of us.
There was a pause, a stutter in Beau’s step as he caught sight of something else.
The driver of the other car, speaking to another officer. I found it interesting that two cruisers were present for a minor accident. Then again, this was Jupiter; not much happened here.
“Wait here,” Beau commanded.
He didn’t wait for me to say anything, charging across the street right toward the man.
I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but I certainly didn’t expect him to take the man by the scruff of the neck and slam him against his ruined vehicle. In front of cops, no less.
I rushed forward, my head throbbing, my feet not entirely steady since I was wearing impractical shoes. But I managed to cross the distance without falling on my face.
“You’re lucky,” Beau hissed, right in his face. “This was any worse, you wouldn’t be walking away.”
My eyes widened at the wrath leeching from his tone, his violence toward this man.
“Beau, how about you walk it off? Take Hannah home,” the officer watching said calmly, as if there wasn’t someone being assaulted right in front of him.
The officer was older, obviously familiar with Beau.
Beau didn’t move, still holding on to the quivering man, a rage in his eyes I’d never seen before.
“Beau,” I said quietly.
Beau jolted, looking at me. The second our eyes locked, he turned back to the man, gave him a withering stare, then dropped him. He nodded to the cop standing by before coming back to me as if nothing had happened.
Beau was walking us slowly, hand pressed to my lower back as if he expected me to fall. He led me to the passenger door, opening it.
“I can—"
My words were swallowed by his hands on my hips, lifting me into the cab as if I weighed nothing.
Then he leaned over to buckle me in.
I stopped breathing.
“I can buckle my own seat belt,” I informed him, my voice little more than a whisper.
He hovered where he was, his large body half draped over mine, tilting his head to look at me. I jerked when our eyes connected. Beau’s gaze was always fixed on me. Glittering with annoyance, sometimes need. But never this. Never fear.