The hair knotted on her head was sprinkled with dried grass, and a little scrape was starting to swell on her chin.
But what got me most was the girl was clearly wired.
Shaken and agitated.
“Hey, Rhys,” she answered, breathing heavily.
“You good?”
She forced a brittle smile. “Yeah.”
Shit.
Wanted to gather her up and promise that she was okay. That I wouldn’t let anything happen to her. That I’d take the brunt of any injury or harm comin’ her way.
I had to remind myself fifteen thousand times that danger was me.
“What the fuck happened?” Royce demanded.
“It was nothing. I just tripped,” she told him.
“Fuck,” he hissed, but in it was torment. Like the guy was just waiting on their peace to be stripped away. “You tripped? How? Look at you…you’re a mess. Maggie. Shit.”
“I wasn’t paying attention and must have—”
The ratty guy who’d been standing by her cut her off, “I was in my yard right over there and this car came speedin’ up the road like some kinda maniac. Got this close.”
He pinched his finger and thumb, leaving a sliver of space. “Sure thought we were gonna have us a tragedy right here on our quiet street. Damn kids. She’s lucky she’s only banged up a bit…though she scared me right and good with all that blood.”
Slack-jawed, I realized I was just staring at the dude.
Mortified.
I pried my attention from him and slowly turned it to Maggie, trying not to freak the fuck out.
Royce wasn’t doing such a good job of it. “What the fuck? Someone almost hit you? Who was it? Who did this?” His voice rose with each demand he issued.
Maggie huffed out a nonchalant laugh, shaking her head, acting like it was no big deal when I could hear each of the words trembling from her tongue. “It was an accident, Royce. Calm down. I got lost in my music again, and I…I think I must have drifted out into the road. I wasn’t paying attention, and then I looked to the side and saw a car was right there. I got spooked, panicked, and I tripped.”
“You got spooked?” The words grated from his mouth.
She nodded.
Resolute.
“Yep.”
I was ninety-nine-point-nine-percent certain it was a lie.
Like maybe I had one of those taps, too.
Royce grunted, angling away to run his shaking hand through his hair, trying to keep calm. “Told you I didn’t want you out jogging by yourself. You don’t know what kinda psychos are lurking about.”
I punched a fist into my opposite fist. Needin’ to do something with the sudden aggression. “Yup. Sounds to me like someone needs an ass whoopin’.”
Maggie scowled at me, one of those brows arching for the sky in her annoyance.
God, why’d she have to be so fuckin’ cute?
“I do hope you aren’t talking about me.”
Horror took me over at the thought, my eyes going wide, before I realized she was cracking a joke.
More than likely trying to distract her brother from his worry.
I gave her a grin that was absolutely forced. “Hells no, baby cakes.” I stretched my arms out wide. “I’m talkin’ about the psychos out drivin’ like maniacs. Stirrin’ up a ruckus.”
“Don’t think you have much room to talk.” This from the scruffy old dude. “Come blazing down here like a bat outta Hell. All you tourists are alike.”
Wow, dude, wow.
I swiveled my attention to him. “No need to worry, Sir. I’m a professional.”
Professional bullshitter, of course.
But the guy didn’t need to know that.
“That so?”
“Trained by Ford’s great-grandson himself.” I gestured to my car.
“Huh.” Old guy actually looked impressed.
I was pretty impressed with the lie, too.
Maggie giggled.
Shit, she giggled, and my heart did that wayward thing, beating that extra beat that never should exist.
“Let’s get you to the hospital.” Royce pushed to standing and stretched out a hand.
Wanted to be the one doing it.
Maggie accepted it, though she was rolling her eyes when she did. “I’m fine, Royce. It’s only a couple scrapes. You think I need to go to the hospital when what I need is a Band-Aid or two.”
“Don’t like it.”
“I just want to go home.”
“No more jogging alone,” he grumbled as he looped an arm around her waist. “Treadmills were created for a reason.”
Maggie shook her head as she leaned against him. He started to lead her around the car, while I followed, wanting to tell him she could make her own mistakes all while fighting the urge to jump in and agree.
“I think I can go out for a run when I feel like it.” Clearly, she didn’t need me to do the talking for her.
“Can you?” he bit out.
“Wow. Thanks.” It was pure affront. She pulled away an inch to throw a frown in his direction. “Twenty, not twelve, remember? You have to quit tossing rules at me, Royce. I’m not a child.”
“Fuck. I’m sorry. I just…can’t…”
There was no missing the implication when he trailed off.