You Drive Me Crazy (The Blackwells of Crystal Lake 2)

Hudson opened the door for him. “Look. All I’m saying is that a girl like Regan Thorne doesn’t give her time easily. Hell, I’ve been home for months now, and I don’t know one guy that’s managed to snag her interest. So for her to be spending time with you says something. I like her, and I’d hate to see her get hurt.”

Was he ever going to be forgiven for prom night?

Wyatt stepped onto the porch. “She’s a big girl, Hudson. I don’t think you need to worry about her. She can look after herself.”

“She might be a big girl, but trust me, brother. All big girls carry around the shit they dealt with when they were little. I should know. I screwed up huge with Rebecca, and I have no idea how I managed to win her back.”

The warning was subtle. And it was noted.

“Must be the Blackwell charm.”

“Maybe.”

Wyatt started toward his truck. “I’ll let you know when I figure out my plans for the old arena.”

“Good. I look forward to it.”

He waved good-bye and got into his truck.

He was halfway to town when he realized he hadn’t asked about his father. In fact, he hadn’t thought about it at all. On a gray day with snow-heavy clouds dotting the horizon, it was a thought that left him feeling bleak and tired.

Hudson was worried about Regan’s baggage, but the thing was, they all had baggage. Stuff from their past that definitely impacted the present. Regan had dealt with hers. At least it seemed to be the case. How long was Wyatt going to hold on to his?

Chapter 20

The week sped by. Flu season was well under way, and in addition to a full slate at Regan’s practice, she’d taken two extra shifts at the hospital because several of the doctors were sick, and they were understaffed. She barely had time to think, let alone dwell on the fact that Wyatt Blackwell had become a habit.

No. Scratch that. Wrong phrase to use. A habit was something you could break. Something that happened just because, over and over and over again. With Wyatt, that wasn’t the case. He’d become a fixture in her home. In her life. In her bed. And if she wasn’t careful, he’d infiltrate her heart.

Case in point.

It was Saturday evening, and she’d spent her entire day off at the hospital. In addition to the cold and flu cases she’d seen, there’d been an accident on the bypass just outside of town, and several patients had come through the ER.

Most of them were okay. A broken arm. Cuts and bruises. But Dale Hubber hadn’t been so lucky. He’d sustained a collapsed lung, a broken pelvis, and an internal bleed that had required surgery. The man was on the wrong end of eighty and had barely made it through.

Blair Hubber, Dale’s son and current mayor of Crystal Lake, was in a state. Regan had known the family her whole life, and though she’d seen her fair share of emotion and tragedy, it was still hard to deal with when a friend was involved. She’d stayed late, well after her shift was over, to make sure Dale was okay and to comfort Blair in any way she could. The old man was doing as well as could be expected, and sure, it was still touch and go, but Regan was hopeful.

She’d been exhausted by the time she’d pulled into her driveway—it was nearly ten o’clock—and all she wanted was a hot bath and her bed.

Wyatt and Bella greeted her at the door. Wyatt with a gentle kiss that brought tears to her eyes and a glass of red wine in hand. Bella with her three-legged happy dance and a wet nose pushed repeatedly into her hand.

Wyatt had called the hospital and had known she was on her way home, so he’d filled the whirlpool tub in her bathroom with hot water and gently nudged her in that direction.

Now, it was half past ten, she was still enjoying the hot bath as well as her second glass of wine, and Bella was asleep beside the tub. She sank lower into the tub, her big toe moving the lever, allowing more hot water to flow in, and closed her eyes as she rested her head on the bath pillow.

She wasn’t sure how much time had gone by, but Regan’s eyes flew open with a start. She shivered and glanced up, her heart lurching when she spied Wyatt leaning against the door frame, a big fluffy towel in his hand.

“I think it’s time for you to get out.” There was a teasing note to his voice. She liked that. Probably more than she should.

“You do?”

“Yes.” He moved closer. “I do. Because if you don’t, one of two things will happen.” He sat on the edge of the tub. “One. You just might turn into a prune. And two, I might have to join you, and if I did that, you wouldn’t have the energy to try my homemade chicken soup.”

Her eyes widened at about the same time her stomach rumbled—loudly. It brought a smile to his face, and he held up the towel. Five minutes later, she was bundled up in her fluffy pink bathrobe, hair secured in a loose knot and a bowl of to-die-for chicken soup in front of her with…

“Did you make these biscuits?”

Wyatt grinned and sat down across from her. “Just one of the many things I can do.”