Draw Me Close (8 page)

She stilled. And then began to push up out of his lap. “That's—”

Derek wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her back down. “I'm sorry, that was uncalled-for under the circumstances.” He pushed her mass of hair out of his face and shoved his chin onto her shoulder. She smelled like lemons and mint. And because he might never have Lindsey in his arms again, he became reckless for a moment and spoke quietly next to her ear. “I wouldn't have minded, though.”

She angled her head, giving him a hard glare. “Get your hands off me, Walsh.”

“Oh-kay.” He held his arms out and then dropped them to his sides.

“Let's get this over with,” she said. Her legs were now crisscrossed on top of his and her arms carefully looped over his thighs so she could grasp the rim of the sled.

“If you won't let me hold on to you, than at least hold on to me. Your fingers might get pinched.”

“I'm fine,” she bit out. “Just go.”

“If you say so. Here we go.”

He used his feet to inch them over the edge of the hill and within a second they tilted forward and just as quickly the air was rushing into his face. Lindsey pressed back into his chest, her forearms clenching tightly against his thighs. He couldn't help himself at that point. With the momentum it felt as if she might lose her balance and he took the opportunity to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her against him.

She remained silent but he could feel the tension in her body as they hit a small bump. Her ass bounced in his lap and he grabbed onto her ankle, pulling her body against his to keep her on board. Unable to hold it in, Derek laughed against her and he could have sworn he felt her do the same, her body vibrating against his chest.

They hit the last bump and began to careen into the final stretch, and before he knew it they crashed and rolled. He could feel Lindsey turn onto her side beneath him, and as soon as they came to a complete stop he worked to quickly get off her.

“Everybody okay?” Anne called.

Derek turned to find everyone rushing over. He leaned down to shake the snow out of his jeans.

“Uh … Dad,” Tanner said. Derek glanced down to where Tanner was looking.
Lindsey.
She was still down on all fours, her back heaving up and down as if she were having trouble breathing, her head limp. Instantly Derek felt as if he would be sick.

“Linds.” Derek's heart thumped in his chest as he fell to his knees beside her. From this angle he could see the way she held her left arm close to her chest, putting no weight on it. She was wearing gloves but they weren't very thick.

“Lindsey, are you hurt? Did you scrape your fingers?”

“Oh no.” Anne rushed to Lindsey's other side. “Lindsey, are you okay?”

Lindsey's head shook quickly back and forth and he wasn't sure whose question she was responding to. Derek pulled back the hair that was concealing her face and found her eyes red and pinched in pain.

He instantly leaned forward close to her face, his lips brushing her temple. “Babe, talk to me. What happened?”

“I'm okay,” she whispered.

Clearly she was not okay. “You hurt your fingers, didn't you?”

“No. My wrist.” Her voice weakened on the last word and he knew she wanted to cry. It nearly undid him, and he couldn't help himself. Instinct took over.

He instantly stood up and went behind Lindsey, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Brace yourself.” He felt her stiffen and he immediately pulled her upright into a standing position.

“Derek, is her arm broken?” Anne said, her voice sounding panicky as she saw the way Lindsey favored the limb.

“I don't know. Lindsey, let me take a look.”

Thankfully she turned to face him, and the pain etched into her face worried everyone. He could tell when he heard Claire gasp. A set of teenaged snowboarders nearly collided only a few feet from them and Derek turned to his son.

“Tanner, get all the sleds and let's get everyone back to the parking lot,” Derek said, thankful when his son immediately obeyed. Anne began to gather everyone up, and without waiting Derek began to guide Lindsey through the field, cutting across to the lot where he could assess the damage. He felt sick to his stomach knowing that she was in pain, especially when he heard her sniffle through her nose. She was still trying to hold herself together.

As if she could read his thoughts and they'd annoyed her, she spoke up.

“I'll be fine,” she said. She cleared her throat, trying to sound the part. He knew better. She kept it up anyway, frustrating woman. “Really, I think I just need to take some pain medicine. Maybe an ice pack. Or a heating pad. It's not a big deal. If you could just let go of me, everything would be better.”

There was no way in hell he was letting her go without checking things out. He had a bad feeling she might need a doctor. Derek stepped over a large fallen tree limb and helped her do the same, never once releasing his hold of her right hand.

“I mean it, Derek. It's fine.
I'm
fine. It doesn't even hurt that bad anymore. The only—ssss!” She hissed as her body moved against a bit of cold wind.

“Lindsey,” Derek said in warning.

“What?”

“Stop talking.”

Surprisingly she did as he said and as soon as they hit the pavement he led her to his truck.

“What are you doing? Anne's car is over there.” She began to pull away and Derek tightened his grip on her coat.
“Derek.”

He ignored her protests and unlocked the doors, opened the driver side and gently shoved her into the space between the seat and the door. “Now let me look at your wrist.”

She bit her bottom lip and lifted her left arm about waist high. Derek pulled off his gloves and tossed them into the front seat of the truck. He gently steadied her arm with one hand and then began to slowly pull off her glove. As soon as he gave the slightest tug she yelped, sliding it away from him.

“Babe, this isn't good. It might be broken.”

“Will you please stop calling me that? And Anne is perfectly capable of helping me figure this out.”

Derek glared down at her and then looked back toward the tailgate of his truck where Anne, Claire, and Tanner stood waiting. Bailey and Erin had apparently taken off. “Anne, how about you take the kids to your place? I'm taking Lindsey to the hospital.”

“What? No!” Lindsey protested. She looked pleadingly at her friend. “Anne, don't you dare leave me with him.”

Anne's eyes widened and she nonchalantly nodded down to Tanner. The look must have done something to Lindsey because she quickly changed her tune. “I mean, can't you just take me? Please? I'd hate to inconvenience Derek and Tanner.”

Anne looked sympathetic. “Sweetie, it might be easier if the kids just came home with me. Claire hasn't had lunch yet and who knows how long it will take in the ER. I could feed them both and we can wait for you without exposing them to hospital germs. It's still flu season.”

Lindsey stood a little taller, her body sending off all kinds of signals. Derek knew she was freaking out right now at the thought of spending so much time alone with him. He could feel it. But he also knew that Lindsey was an insanely sensible woman and there really was no arguing with Anne's logic. He had her. This wasn't necessarily how he wanted her, but he knew better than to be choosy.

“Get in the truck,” he whispered. Her eyes met his.

“I don't like you right now,” she whispered back before pulling herself in with her good hand.

“I'll have to live with that. After I make sure your wrist is not broken.” Derek pushed her hip in a little farther and shut the door before she had a chance to respond. He went around back, had a few quick words with Tanner—who seemed fine once Anne mentioned grilled cheese, potato chips, and chocolate chip cookies—and then got in the driver's seat.

Derek felt awful for causing Lindsey to get hurt. He should have made her hold on to him and not the sled, but trying to force Lindsey Morales to do anything didn't feel like a smart move. Until now. He was definitely forcing her to the hospital.

After turning on the ignition Derek looked over to see her fumbling with her seat belt, obviously unable to use her left hand to buckle it or even pull off her right glove. Derek leaned over, removed it from her grasp and locked it in place for her.

“Thank you,” she said. But he could tell it was difficult for her to mutter the words.

“You're welcome.” Derek sighed and took in the sight of Lindsey sitting in his truck. Her cheeks were still flushed, her eyes glassy, and her long hair a little messy under that ridiculous red stocking cap. She was chewing on her bottom lip and very purposely not turning toward him. It was kind of cute, her trying to be a hard-ass. He'd still much rather see her smiling.

“I
can
be a nice guy, you know?”

She didn't respond. The only way he knew she'd heard him was the way her lashes fluttered and her teeth worked at her lip with a little more intensity. Fine, he'd just have to keep trying to prove it to her.

 

Five

Lindsey stared straight ahead as they made their way down the highway. Dirty snow was piled along the ditch and watching it fly past through the windshield made her nauseous. She clamped her eyes closed and let herself fall back to the headrest. The throbbing in her wrist probably wasn't helping her state of mind, but she was doing her best to think of anything but the fact that she was sitting in the enemy's truck.

It was torturous in so many ways. On top of her pain, the scent of Derek overwhelmed her. A heady mix of his familiar musk and … wood shavings? That was new, he'd never smelled like that before, but it made sense given his job. She could also smell leather but figured that was coming from the huge tool belt that rested between them on the center console. A pile of rolled-up papers cluttered the floor at her feet. Obviously building plans. This was definitely a workingman's vehicle and she hated that it was so …
him
.

He'd cranked up the heater, the warm air blowing on her chilled cheeks. That felt nice, but warming her skin did nothing for the intense agony radiating through her arm and the roiling of her stomach.

She should have listened to him when he'd warned her against holding on to the plastic. At the time, pinched fingers seemed preferable to hooking her hands around Derek's thighs. When they'd flipped into the snow she hadn't let go, her fingers tight on the plastic rim as they tumbled and rolled.

In the midst of their wipeout, her wrist had hyperextended and twisted. Their combined body weight landing on top of it was the final straw. When the searing pain had shot through her arm she'd nearly cried out.

Please don't let it be broken.

She didn't have time for a broken arm, but more than anything she couldn't afford it. An X-ray alone was going to do her in. But it was probably going to be necessary. Her wrist was definitely damaged and she had to know how bad. What if it was broken and she didn't find out? As much as she hated to admit it, she knew Derek was right about going to the hospital. She just hated that he was the one driving her.

“You okay?” Derek's deep voice filled the truck's small cab. “You didn't hit your head when we wiped out, did you?”

“No, I'm fine,” she said quietly. Again. If she kept saying those words would they eventually be true? She opened her eyes but didn't turn to look at him. Thankfully they were already pulling into the hospital parking lot. Derek went around back to the emergency room entrance and drove under the portico that covered the entryway. He came to a stop outside the sliding glass doors.

“Thanks for—” she began, but he cut her off.

“You go in and get your name down. I'll meet you in there.”

“No, I'm good alone for now.” She finally turned to him. “You go and I'll call my sister to come get me when I'm done.”

Derek glared at her. “Lindsey, I'm not about to drop you off and leave.”

“But I don't want you here.” She stared, urging him to see that she was serious. The look in his too handsome face told her he cared nothing for what she had to say at the moment.

“Tough, babe. Now get out of the truck so I can park.”

Lindsey ground her teeth together as she used her right hand to try and unlock her seat belt. Her coat was so big and her gloves so slippery that she couldn't manage it—she'd known that before she'd even started trying. Once again Derek reached over and handled it for her. She didn't bother thanking him, just opened the door, slid off the seat, and slammed the door.

He pulled away and she walked into the waiting area. Thankfully it wasn't incredibly busy—only a woman with a small child sleeping in her arms and a couple of men. One of them was holding a bloody towel to his forehead. Yikes. She turned and walked over to the check-in desk. Another woman with a sick child was finishing up in front of her. Finally she stepped up to the counter.

“Fill out the clipboard and I'll be right with you,” the woman sitting behind the desk said.

Lindsey glanced down at her uninjured gloved hand and hesitated. She had to free her fingers in order to write, so she didn't have a lot of options. “I'm sorry to bother you,” she said. The woman looked up and Lindsey held out her hand. “Any way you could—”

A large arm reached out from beside her and grabbed her arm.

“I got it.” Derek's warm fingers grasped her right wrist while he gently pulled the glove off. She told herself that the sight of his hands did nothing to her, but that would be a lie. She'd dreamed of Derek's hands. The sprinkling of dark hair on the back of his palms, his blunt fingers topped with trimmed nails. She couldn't help noticing that they looked a little rougher than they had in college. Without comment, Lindsey filled out the paperwork, and then they headed into the waiting area.