until he had a chance to think it through, he wasn’t going to make any more assumptions. A ride on his Harley is what he needed to clear his head and get her delicious cherry scent out of his lungs.
“Right. What else?” he muttered.
Johnny stalked away, up the stairs, where he knew she could not follow, only to come down a few minutes later, fully dressed. He pulled on a black leather jacket, then tied a bandana around his head to keep the hair out of his eyes. He scrawled a number on a notepad by the phone.
“This is my cell in case there’s an emergency.” He tossed the pen to the side, avoiding her gaze, taking long strides toward the door leading to the garage. He needed some space to think, but he wouldn’t hesitate if she needed him.
No matter what she thought.
“You’re leaving?” Her voice sounded so small, he almost changed his mind and turned around. Almost. But his Irish temper got the best of him. And this whole situation – the sheer power and force with which he suddenly found himself caring for her – frankly scared the shit out of him.
“Yeah. Turns out I’ve got better things to do than babysit. Don’t wait up.”
She flinched as if he had struck her. Yeah, that was low, even for him. He probably wouldn’t have said it if his heart hadn’t felt like it had been stomped on by an elephant with a bad attitude. He stormed out without another word. A minute or two later he was spitting gravel behind him as he tore away from the cabin on his Harley like a bat out of hell.
Chapter Eleven
S tacey positioned herself in front of the big windows, staring off into beautiful scenery she didn’t see. There was only one thing she was looking for, and that was Johnny returning. To the cabin. To her.
She tried writing, but accomplished nothing more than staring at the same page for an hour. Instead of scenes, her mind saw only the hurt look in his beautiful green eyes before they’d gone cold.
She felt terrible about that. When she sat back and thought about it, he had done nothing but take care of her. Never once had he said or done an unkind thing. Almost as if he really cared.
Yet she found it hard to believe he could have serious feelings for her. A weekend fling? Sure. But more than that? Doubtful. They’d only just met, after all, and she was, well, like she was. Her fears were even more confining than her chair. Not exactly girlfriend material for someone like him. Johnny was the embodiment of life and power and passion – everything she had once been.
If only she could have met him then; they might have had a chance.
She’d been so different then. That Stacey wouldn’t have cowered under the sheets because of a thunderstorm. That Stacey never would have questioned why a hot, sexy guy like Johnny was keeping time with her. And that Stacey would never have let him walk out the door like that. She would have jumped on his back, dug her nails into that hard, muscled chest, and given him a damn good reason to stay.
Depression embraced her like a familiar friend. She exhaled heavily and looked down at her uncooperative legs. The accident hadn’t just taken her ability to walk. That she could deal with. It was what it had done to her soul that was the real paralysis.
But despite everything, she couldn’t regret what she’d done. Even if she had known the consequences of going out to help that day, she would have done the same thing, because that Stacey had loved life, been connected to the world around her.
Now she sat staring out a window feeling sorry for herself.
Stacey gripped the arms of her chair, fighting back the wave of self-pity trying to swallow her whole. Indulging in such negativity was a slippery slope, one she’d already been down too many times in the last five years.
It had gone on long enough.
She would get through this. Everything happened for a reason. Maybe this was exactly the wake-up call she’d needed.
And what exactly was she crying about, anyway?
“Right. What else?” he muttered.
Johnny stalked away, up the stairs, where he knew she could not follow, only to come down a few minutes later, fully dressed. He pulled on a black leather jacket, then tied a bandana around his head to keep the hair out of his eyes. He scrawled a number on a notepad by the phone.
“This is my cell in case there’s an emergency.” He tossed the pen to the side, avoiding her gaze, taking long strides toward the door leading to the garage. He needed some space to think, but he wouldn’t hesitate if she needed him.
No matter what she thought.
“You’re leaving?” Her voice sounded so small, he almost changed his mind and turned around. Almost. But his Irish temper got the best of him. And this whole situation – the sheer power and force with which he suddenly found himself caring for her – frankly scared the shit out of him.
“Yeah. Turns out I’ve got better things to do than babysit. Don’t wait up.”
She flinched as if he had struck her. Yeah, that was low, even for him. He probably wouldn’t have said it if his heart hadn’t felt like it had been stomped on by an elephant with a bad attitude. He stormed out without another word. A minute or two later he was spitting gravel behind him as he tore away from the cabin on his Harley like a bat out of hell.
Chapter Eleven
S tacey positioned herself in front of the big windows, staring off into beautiful scenery she didn’t see. There was only one thing she was looking for, and that was Johnny returning. To the cabin. To her.
She tried writing, but accomplished nothing more than staring at the same page for an hour. Instead of scenes, her mind saw only the hurt look in his beautiful green eyes before they’d gone cold.
She felt terrible about that. When she sat back and thought about it, he had done nothing but take care of her. Never once had he said or done an unkind thing. Almost as if he really cared.
Yet she found it hard to believe he could have serious feelings for her. A weekend fling? Sure. But more than that? Doubtful. They’d only just met, after all, and she was, well, like she was. Her fears were even more confining than her chair. Not exactly girlfriend material for someone like him. Johnny was the embodiment of life and power and passion – everything she had once been.
If only she could have met him then; they might have had a chance.
She’d been so different then. That Stacey wouldn’t have cowered under the sheets because of a thunderstorm. That Stacey never would have questioned why a hot, sexy guy like Johnny was keeping time with her. And that Stacey would never have let him walk out the door like that. She would have jumped on his back, dug her nails into that hard, muscled chest, and given him a damn good reason to stay.
Depression embraced her like a familiar friend. She exhaled heavily and looked down at her uncooperative legs. The accident hadn’t just taken her ability to walk. That she could deal with. It was what it had done to her soul that was the real paralysis.
But despite everything, she couldn’t regret what she’d done. Even if she had known the consequences of going out to help that day, she would have done the same thing, because that Stacey had loved life, been connected to the world around her.
Now she sat staring out a window feeling sorry for herself.
Stacey gripped the arms of her chair, fighting back the wave of self-pity trying to swallow her whole. Indulging in such negativity was a slippery slope, one she’d already been down too many times in the last five years.
It had gone on long enough.
She would get through this. Everything happened for a reason. Maybe this was exactly the wake-up call she’d needed.
And what exactly was she crying about, anyway?
Similar Books
