Love Me (One Night with Sole Regret 12)

Lindsey squeezed Chad’s damp hand. “I think Jacob has enough problems with his other baby mama to ever consider getting involved with another one.”

Jacob chuckled. “She’s right, but it wouldn’t matter. I can tell she’s totally into you, man.”

“Totally!” Lindsey said in her best Valley girl impersonation.

The tension drained from Chad’s face, but he didn’t release the grip on her fingers. “And I plan on raising that baby as my own.”

“Chad, if he wants—”

“As my own.” Chad cut off Lindsey’s protest and dropped her hand before spinning his chair and wheeling himself down the sidewalk to where they’d parked—not in a handicapped spot at his insistence.

Jacob and Lindsey exchanged concerned looks.

“I’d better talk to him,” she said. “See you, Jacob.”

“Later, Lindsey.”

Chad had already folded his wheelchair and stuffed it into the back seat of the Jeep by the time Lindsey caught up with him. It was amazing what he could accomplish when he set his mind to it, especially when he was pissed off.

“I apologize,” he said when she stopped behind him. “What I said was completely out of line.”

“You’re allowed to have feelings and even to express them from time to time.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

He opened the driver’s side door and grabbed the roll bar to swing himself into the car.

“You’re driving?” she asked.

“Get used to it,” he grumbled. “I don’t like being taxied around like a goddamned invalid.”

She ducked her head and smiled to herself. If Chad ever faltered on his path to recovery, all she had to do was make him feel something strongly enough to piss him off and he’d blast through any milestone. She doubted he even realized that by bottling up his emotions, he gave others ammunition against him. She was sure he thought the exact opposite, that burying his feelings made him invulnerable.

“I can barely reach the pedals anyway,” she said. “I have to push the seat way far back to fit my belly behind the wheel.”

He grunted his acknowledgement.

“But I’m not getting into the car until you kiss me.”

She placed her hands on the top of the door, where the window had been lowered completely, and leaned in, lips poised.

She half expected him to protest being bossed around by the likes of her, but he cupped the back of her head and kissed her until her knees went weak. When he pulled away, all the anger and confusion in his gaze had melted into lust and something stronger she was too afraid to hope was real.

“Get in the car, angel,” he murmured, stroking his thumb over her cheek as he gazed into her eyes.

Once they had settled into the Jeep, Lindsey drew a small spiral-bound notebook out of her purse and flipped to a blank page. At the top she wrote I owe Amanda, and beneath that she scrawled: Jacob’s bail $5000. Under that line she added (potentially reimbursed). She then flipped back several pages and added a new line item to one of several I Owe Owen pages: gas to courthouse $15. She went ahead and added that day’s rent expense while she was at it.

“What are you writing?” Chad asked, and she lifted her gaze to find him watching her suspiciously.

She closed the notebook, but he snatched it out of her hand. “Is it about me?”

“It’s none of your business,” she said, snatching the notebook back and shoving it into her purse.

“It is about me.”

“It’s not,” she said. “Not today, anyway. Are we going or not?”

“I just realized I have a slight problem,” he said. “Owen’s Jeep has a manual transmission.”

“You can’t drive a stick? Seriously? I thought all tough guys drove sticks.” A second later she slapped a hand over her mouth when she realized why he couldn’t drive a stick and because she’d unthinkingly teased him about it.

“I don’t think I can work three pedals with one foot, no,” he said.

“Sorry. I didn’t think.”

“Actually, I’m glad you didn’t think not to tease me. Reinforces that you aren’t fixated on my shortcomings.”

She leaned over to kiss him tenderly. “What shortcomings?”

He tapped her nose with one fingertip. “Just for that, I’m going to try those damned crutches when I get home.”

He hadn’t wanted to try them again since he’d tripped and fallen at physical therapy several days ago. She loved how he used her as an excuse to make strides in his recovery. She didn’t mind being his scapegoat one bit.

“It’s fine,” she said. “I’ll drive.” She hopped out of the car.

He scooted from the driver’s seat to the passenger seat—somehow avoiding a stick shift up the ass—and was rifling through her purse when she got into the car again.

“What are you doing?”

“Seeing what you were writing about me,” he said, pulling out her IOU notebook. “May I?” he asked.

She jerked it out of his hand. “No, you may not. And I already told you it isn’t about you. If you must know, it’s a list of all the money I owe people. You aren’t in there much. Unless you think I should be paying you for your lovemaking services. Then I probably owe you ten grand or something.” She tossed the notebook at him, and it landed on his lap, open to a page filled with line items and summations. She reached over to close the cover, but his quick scan of the page had revealed enough.

“My brother charges you for water and electricity and gas and food?” he bellowed. “I’m going to whip his ass when I see him. He was raised better than that.”

“Owen doesn’t charge me. I just keep track so I can pay him back one day.”

“He doesn’t want you to pay him back.”

“How do you know? Are you him?” She gave him a hard stare. “I didn’t think so.”

She started the Jeep and ground the gears as she wrestled the stick into reverse.

Chad flipped open the notebook to a random page and pretended to write with his fingertip. “Transmission for 2014 Jeep Wrangler: two thousand dollars.”

She growled at him and squealed the tires as she peeled out of the parking spot.

He started a new imaginary line. “Set of four new tires: twelve hundred dollars.”

“Stop,” she said.

“Excess air from angry breathing: seventy-five cents.”

“Don’t make fun of me, Chad.”

“This is ridiculous. No one is expecting you to pay them back. Don’t you know it’s better to give than to receive?”

“I do know that. Because when you receive too much, you feel like you owe even more.” A

nd all that debt—real and imagined—was crushing her.

“So pay it forward, angel, not backward.”

She scowled at the dense traffic that prevented her from pulling out of the parking lot.

“What are you talking about?” she snapped.

“Accept Owen’s generosity, and when you’re in a better position, don’t pay him back—give to someone else without expecting anything in return.”

“And you think I’m ridiculous.” She was too angry—or embarrassed—to see any wisdom in his suggestion. How would helping someone else repay Owen?

“I think this notebook is ridiculous,” he said, and he tossed it out the window.

“Chad! Get out and pick that up.”

“I won’t.”

“Fine,” she said through gritted teeth. She shifted into neutral before pulling the emergency brake. The car behind her honked, and its impatient driver waved toward the street, which was finally clear. She didn’t let his impatience deter her from getting out of the Jeep. The car zoomed around them, nearly knocking her over as it squealed into traffic and earned the well-deserved blare of a horn. By the time Lindsey waddled around to the passenger side and spotted her notebook, Chad had opened his door.

“Get back in the car, Lindsey,” he said.

“After I get my notebook.” She’d been keeping meticulous records for weeks.

Just as she bent to retrieve it, a foot stepped on top of it.

“Chad,” she said, beyond exasperated with him. “Get off it!”

Several cars were now honking at them to move out of the way. She offered one of the drivers a friendly wave and got an emphatic middle finger for her effort.

“Please!” she said.

“On one condition,” he said.

“What?”

“That you let me cross out any superfluous expenses you’ve tracked.”

“But you’ll think they’re all superfluous expenses.”

“Didn’t Owen pay to get your car out of impound?”

She nodded, her face flaming with a mix of embarrassment and anger.