A Little Like Love (Robin and Tyler 2)
Page 9
A tiny smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. “Is it wrong that I’m kind of glad this happened?”
I blink. He’s crazy. He’s lost so much blood that he’s getting delusional. Oh, shit, what if he dies from blood loss? “You need a hospital. Can you walk? Where do we go?” I pull him to his feet and it only barely registers in my mind that we’re holding hands for a few moments. Drops of his blood spill on my arm as I hold his elbow and walk him off the pier.
He reaches in his pocket and hands me a set of keys. “You drive. I don’t think I can.”
“How far away is the hospital?”
“About an hour.”
“You’re kidding me?”
“I kid you not.” Tyler climbs into the passenger side of his old Chevy and I walk around to the driver’s side. I’ve never driven a truck before, but I can’t imagine it would be much different than my SUV. “I would never kid you, Robin.”
I laugh and he starts laughing too but then winces in pain. “Did you say you’re glad this happened?” I ask, remembering what he said on the pier.
“Yeah. Don’t get me wrong, I’m in terrible amounts of pain right now. But I had this dinner thing tonight, and I’m glad I have an excuse to get out of it now.”
He hands me the keys and I almost drop them when I look over at him. He does something I can’t even fathom at first. He stretches out the collar of his T-shirt and gently pulls it in a wide berth over his head, careful not to let it touch the hook. As my jaw hits the ground, he rolls up the shirt and press it
to the side of his face to catch all the blood. He doesn’t just have nice abs. He has an actual six pack. In one second all of the air in my lungs disappears, leaving me gasping for a breath.
Keep it together, Robin. I can survive this without blabbering on like an idiot or letting him see me gawk at him like some old guy hanging outside a women’s yoga class at the gym.
I’ll just pretend I’m an ambulance driver taking a regular patient to the hospital. The shirtlessness of the patient is of no consequence to me. All I have to do is drive. I do not need to look over at him. So I put my hands on the steering wheel and crank the key. I can do this.
The truck doesn’t start. I try turning the key again, and the radio pops on but the engine makes no attempt to crank over. Even though I’m not supposed to look at him, I glance over at the patient helplessly.
He’s shaking his head and smiling. I hate when he does that. I also love it. “You need to clutch to start the truck.”
“Clutch?” All the blood drops out of my face. “I can’t drive a standard.”
“You can learn.” He winces and rests his head back against the seat. His eyes close. “I’ll teach you.”
Chapter 6
Tyler still manages to look cute with a big bandage taped on his head. He had to get eight stitches and a tetanus shot. I offer to pay for his medical bills but he assures me he has good insurance and it won’t be that bad. I struggle to believe that anyone in Salt Gap has good insurance.
Tyler drives us home from the hospital in half the time it took me to get us there. I guess not killing the engine at every red light has something to do with making a speedy trip. Although I feel like a total asshat loser for hooking him in the head with my fishing line, he’s taking it pretty well. He hasn’t voiced any regrets about taking me fishing with him, or hinted that maybe I should move back to Houston where I belong.
He hasn’t said much of anything about the incident actually.
“I’m really sorry,” I say. “I feel ridiculously terrible for what happened.”
“I’m sure I had it coming anyway,” he says.
“What does that mean?”
He shrugs. “Do you think everything happens for a reason?”
“I guess.” He looks at me for a moment, and then turns back to the road.
“Well, I do. And I know it sounds crazy but I think you were meant to maim me today.”
“Maim! I didn’t maim you! It’s barely a scratch,” I say, holding out my index finger and thumb an inch apart. “Just a tiny little thing.”
“It was the most painful tiny little thing I’ve ever felt.”
I look out my window with a snort. “That’s what she said.”