Bryan was unusually quiet as they made their way to the parking lot, leaving the noisy gossip and street cleanup behind them. Grace was startled when he turned to her at the car and said, “Would you like to drive?”
“You’re offering to let me drive the ’vette?” She frowned at him, studying his face to determine if he was simply making a nice gesture—knowing that she wanted a car like this of her own someday—or if there was something more to the offer. The paleness of his face and the sheen of moisture on his upper lip gave her the answer. “Where are you hurt?”
Looking him over, she saw that he was holding his left arm, which was tucked close to his side; she realized now that he’d kept it there since emerging from the vehicle with the baby girl. “Let me see your arm,” she demanded.
He winced when she grabbed his wrist. “Careful.”
“Bryan!” She stared in dismay at the outside of his left forearm, which was obviously burned, the skin an angry red with small blisters just becoming visible. “When did this happen?”
“I was having trouble unsnapping the buckles on the baby’s car seat. A lick of flame came up the inside of the door, and I shielded her with my arm while I struggled with the buckles.”
He said it so matter-of-factly, making it sound like no big deal that he’d used his own arm as a barrier between a spreading fire and a helpless infant. And he hadn’t mentioned the injury since, even though his arm had to hurt like hell.
“Why didn’t you show this to the paramedics?” she scolded. “These burns need to be treated immediately. Do you want to get an infection? It’s a wonder you didn’t get yourself killed, diving into that car like that.”
“I saw the baby in the car seat and I knew the car was starting to burn. Would you have had me leave her in there?”
His calm question didn’t soothe her frayed nerves. “Get in the car,” she snapped. “I’m taking you to the nearest emergency room.”
“Maybe we should drive into Little Rock to get away from the attention here.”
“Little Rock is too far. You’re just going to have to deal with the attention.”
“I really think I…”
“Bryan, get in the damned car!”
He sighed. “Yes, ma’am.”
The sheer pleasure of driving Bryan’s car was lost in her urgency to find treatment for his arm. She chewed him out almost continuously during the brief drive, and he meekly allowed her to do so. She didn’t know if he was being so agreeable because he knew she needed an emotional release from the intensity of the ordeal, or because he was in too much pain to argue with her. Nor was she sure if she was so upset because the whole incident had been so frightening—or because Bryan had been hurt, and could have been killed.
Because it seemed safer to continue lecturing him than to give much thought to her feelings for him, she started in on him again for not immediately reporting his injuries.
“I can’t believe that reporter was the first person we saw when we went into the emergency room,” Bryan muttered, not for the first time.
“He said he’d driven straight there to check on the condition of the woman and her children. Apparently it was a slow news day.” Grace adjusted the rearview mirror of the Corvette and guided the car into the left lane to pass a slower-moving vehicle. Now that Bryan’s injuries had been treated and she knew he was going to be all right, she could enjoy the novelty of driving the gleaming silver sports car.
Bryan rested his head against the high back of his black leather seat. “Maybe the story will be confined to the local paper he works for. It probably won’t be picked up by the wire services.”
“Maybe,” she said, but she wasn’t particularly optimistic. Bryan’s name alone would be enough to propel the story into national news. Add his heroic rescue of a baby to the mix, risking his own life and sustaining injuries in the process, and she could almost guarantee headlines.
He just seemed to have a special talent…
Bryan plucked irritably at the bandages on his left arm. “I don’t know why they had to truss me up like this. The doctor even said I wasn’t burned that badly.”
She could hear the effects of the medications that had been pumped into him; his words were just a bit slurred, his tone uncharacteristically petulant. “The doctor said you were lucky you didn’t end up with third-degree burns.”
Bryan had been instructed to see his own doctor on Monday, and to take very good care of his burns to keep them from becoming infected. He’d been given painkillers and a list of instructions before being released into Grace’s care.
“Sorry about the amusement park,” Bryan murmured, his eyes closed. “I know you wanted to ride the roller coaster.”
“That’s okay.”
“Rain check?”
“Sure.”
“Good. I’d like to take a wild ride with you.”