Full Throttle (11 page)

Rachel—the beast—seemed to shrink under Sammy’s tone
of voice.

“I crashed all by myself, because I am a beginner.
If Josh hadn’t been there, I might have died.”

He didn’t know about that, but Josh stayed quiet as
Rachel spluttered, because he liked the idea of someone, especially Sammy,
coming to his defense.

“But you don’t want him to care for you, do you?”

Sammy twisted her lips and sighed. “I’ll just be in
your way, Rach. You have two kids, and a husband. Also, I want to go home, I
have work I need to do.” Sammy looked past Rachel to the nurse. “Do I
have
to be under watch? Can’t I be
alone?”

The nurse shook her head, clearly feeling sorry for
Sammy and her decision.

Josh stepped closer and spoke up again. “I can care
for you at your
house,
I can do my work from your house.
As long as you have internet, I’m good.”

Everyone ignored Rachel as she spluttered. “Oh,
you’re not seriously considering this?”

“I don’t want to put you out.” Sammy said as she
stared up at him, a furious blush filling her cheeks.

“No problem at all.” Josh reached out almost
unconsciously and stroked a stray lock of hair from Sammy’s face. The shock of
touching her skin again was so powerful it shuddered through his nerves in a
violent shot of adrenaline. He snatched his hand back and tucked his fingers
into his jeans. He cleared his throat. “No problem at all. I just need to be
able to pop home to get my laptop, and I’ll be good.”

Sammy watched him for a long moment. She swallowed past
what looked like a dry mouth and turned to the nurse, not Rachel, and spoke. “I’ll
go with Josh.”

Josh tried to ignore the wave of relief that washed
through him as he watched Sammy blush wildly. And he grinned wide when the
nurse had to ask Rachel to quiet her swearing. But when he turned his gaze back
to Sammy and saw the look of frightened apprehension in her eyes, the smile
dropped from his expression.

****

Sammy sat in the passenger seat of Josh’s tiny
sports car and watched the apartment-block door that Josh had gone through. He
lived in a really lovely looking apartment block in town, a small exclusive-looking
area filled with flowerpots and tall trees. It certainly didn’t look anything
like the apartment blocks she’d viewed before her father had died. Sammy’s
budget definitely hadn’t stretched much further than a small bedsit. She
guessed from looking at the modern, sleek apartment
structure,
and sports cars in the car park that Josh didn’t live in a bedsit.

Maybe she should cash in her inheritance and invest
in a nice apartment like this one? Sammy still hadn’t decided what to do with
her father’s money. Cashing it in and spending it on
herself
seemed like stealing. Her father had been a stickler for money, a real penny-pincher.
He’d never helped her out through university, never offered her any money.
Sammy’d been brought up to earn every penny, nothing had been gifted. She
guessed that’s why he had a full bank account. Her father, though mean and
cold, had been a clever man.

The deep throb coming from her broken leg gave a
sudden twinge, breaking into her melancholy thoughts, making Sammy tip her head
back on the headrest and close her eyes to ride the agony of having her newly-casted
leg tucked tightly into Josh’s small two-seater sports car. When he’d wheeled
her out of the hospital and she’d seen his transport, she had almost taken
Rachel up on her offer. But the idea of being surrounded by a flapping Rachel
and her whole family for forty-eight hours was, quite frankly, frightening.
Though Sammy loved Rachel and her family, loved her kids as if they were her
own, being surrounded by them with a thumping headache and bruised limbs would
be enough to probably kill her.

Plus, Sammy just wanted to be in
her
own
home.

She tried to move a little in the tight bucket-seat
and groaned aloud when the small twisting movement sent a shock of pain through
her broken leg again. Sammy reached down, held her thigh, and gritted her
teeth, holding back the cry of pain and rush of curses that filled her mind.

“You know, I think it helps to swear.”

Sammy ripped her eyes open to the deep sound of
Josh’s voice and she forced herself to sit up straight. He stood just outside
the car, his dark gaze on her through the open window as she bent over her
pained leg. She swallowed and shook her head. “I don’t swear.”
Not out loud.

Josh laughed as he threw a large overnight bag into
the back of the car and climbed in. He put his keys in the ignition and then
turned to face her. Sammy squirmed as his eyes roamed over her face and the
massive bruise she knew she had. She fought the need to cover it with her hand,
and instead, she turned her face away.

Josh sighed beside her. “I bet by the time you are
better, I’ll have you swearing.” He
said,
his voice
full of promise as he drove his car out of the car park and onto the busy road.

Sammy smiled and shook her head again. “You won’t. People
have been trying for years to get me to swear. All through university and even
after, people referred to me as Sammy the Saint. I just don’t feel comfortable
doing it.”

Josh glanced her way as they sat at a junction, a
lopsided smile tugged at his lips, and Sammy found
herself
watching that one action.
“A good girl, huh?”
He
drawled before a bigger smile pulled at his whole mouth. Sammy swallowed hard at
the meaning that sat in those words. She felt her face heat up violently before
she dropped her gaze and stared at her hands as they twisted together in her
lap. Sammy’s heart pounded furiously, and when Josh
huffed
a deep, rumbling laugh, Sammy was just about ready to die.

How did a woman—a normal, non-shy woman—reply to that?
No answers came to mind. No knowledge of previous flirting had ever prepared
her for the violent reaction Josh and his cocky words would have on her. And,
as she sat fighting the tremble that racked her body, Sammy realized she was in
trouble. How would she survive another forty-eight hours in his company?

She stared out of the window and watched as the city
grays and browns gave away to the countryside and its beautiful colors, and Sammy
decided she had to stop him from flirting. It’s not as if anything would or
could happen. Josh was a flirt and Sammy was not. Josh was clearly out of
Sammy’s league, and so she just had to get a hold of herself. Besides, it was
uncomfortable.

Taking a deep breath Sammy turned and faced Josh’s profile.
She intended to say something mundane or witty to cease this uncomfortable
silence, but instead she found herself studying his strong forehead and heavy
browed eyes. Man, his lashes were long. And his jaw was so strong, covered in a
dark layer of stubble. Her fingers itched to feel the texture. Would it be
abrasive?
Or soft?
She had no clue. The men she’d dated
before would never have allowed themselves to be seen in public with stubble.
Maybe because they couldn’t grow stubble as sexy as Josh’s.
And
that tattoo flowing up his skin, out of the neckline of his t-shirt. Sammy had a
vision of running her tongue over the dark marking…

“See something you like, Sam?” Josh turned to her
with a small smile, his eyes pinning her and stunning her with the strange dark
emotion that shone from them. His words jerked her forcibly from her thoughts
and Sammy flushed again as she realized he’d caught her staring. From the
wicked twinkle in his eyes, he also figured out just where her thoughts had been
going—south.

“Uh, no…”

Josh laughed.

Mortified, Sammy turned and faced out her window and
noticed they were in her village.

“Uh, turn here. Next left.” Sammy closed her eyes
and pulled in a deep breath. What an idiot. Being caught staring at the man she
had just decided
not
to flirt with.
Clever Sammy, really clever.
But god, how was she supposed to
stop her body from reacting to him?

Chapter
Twelve

Josh barely resisted a low whistle of appreciation
as they drove up a long driveway leading to a large house. An impressive gothic
mansion came into view and Josh realized he was staring wide-eyed at the
extensive home.

“This is your home?” He pulled around the fountain
in the center of the in-out driveway. The old fountain was not on, and looked
to be thickly covered in moss, but Josh was still impressed. He was a city boy,
and to him, space meant you had a driveway big enough for two cars, not a
driveway big enough for ten cars and a fucking fountain.

Sammy looked up at the house and shook her head.
“No, it’s my parents place.” He detected a strange detachment in her tone,
glanced across to see the same cold emotion in her usually expressive eyes, and
he frowned.

“I didn’t think you had any parents.” Nearly cursing
out loud at his stupid statement, of course she did, or had. He tried to find
words to say sorry, but Sammy’s own words interrupted his thoughts.

“They died.”

Fuck.
“I’m
sorry, Sammy.”
Way to stick your foot in
your mouth, Grieve!
Awkward, Josh swallowed, suddenly stuck for words.

But Sammy stunned him with her answer. “We weren’t
close.” She sighed and dropped her eyes to her lap for a moment before she
sucked in a breath and pointed to a small cottage that sat to the side of the
large house, and said. “I live there.”

“Oh, right.” Josh steered the car up a small
driveway, relieved he didn’t have to get involved in that conversation, but
equally intrigued as to what Sammy meant. W
e
weren’t close
. The idea that Sammy had not had a good life with her parents
was a slightly uncomfortable burn behind his ribs. A burn that he didn’t quite
recognize,
or he did and would rather ignore.

Josh parked outside a small cottage that looked like
an add-on to the main house. The bricks were the same, but this building looked
more like a house built for staff. Maybe it originally was, years ago. Realizing
he was far too intrigued, Josh shook his head and turned the ignition off.

He jumped out of the car and rushed to help Sammy
out. She’d already begun to get to her feet, her hands gripping the doorframe
tightly. When she stumbled and pressed her lips together in obvious pain that
would have had him swearing like a sailor. He picked her up. “Put your arms
around my neck,” he demanded, as she flailed in his arms. She was not at all
heavy, but she was awkward to carry with that cast on, especially when she
refused to let him hold her.

“You don’t have to do this. I can use my crutches.”
Sammy said on a slightly squeaky voice.

Josh scowled and walked to the front door.

“Have you ever used crutches before?” he asked,
smiling when she flushed yet again. He looked meaningfully at her casted leg
and raised an eyebrow. Sammy frowned and looked at her foot as if it were a
traitor to her. She folded her lips inwards and shook her head weakly. Her
hands wrapped reluctantly around his neck and Josh fought the grin that
threatened to spread from ear to ear.

“No, other than the quick
training on them at the hospital.
Thank you.”

“My pleasure, sweetheart.”

****

Sammy sat on the sofa where Josh placed her not two
minutes before and tried to regain control of her breathing. Not only had he
carried her into her home effortlessly, he’d found her a perfect place on her
couch, propped her foot up on a stool and gone off in search of a blanket and a
glass of water for her to take her medication with.

But none of that was what had her heart thumping and
her chest tight. No, it was the way he’d called her
sweetheart
that had her mind scrambling. It was insane the way her
starved-of-affection body reacted to that one morsel of regard, and Sammy was
disgusted at her response. So easily, she could become an emotional slave to
someone, anyone, who would just give her some desperately needed affection. As
Josh strolled into her small living room like he owned it, Sammy realized with
a painful jolt that she could easily become a pitiful woman dangling on a
string for Josh.

The man was potent. Not just physically, but Sammy
now understood, mentally. And that was frightening. She never wanted to be a
person who waited with baited breath for her next sliver of consideration again.
She lived her whole childhood waiting for the moment her father was proud of
her. Waiting for her mother to step out from beneath his iron fist and hug her
when she fell and scuffed her knee, or even to tell her that she loved her.
Sammy felt vulnerable, weakened by her accident, and it was only now, she saw
that allowing Josh into her home was a mistake.

She watched Josh put the fresh glass of water on the
coffee table in front of her. Sammy understood with a tight-chested clarity
that Josh Grieve was not good for her. He was sex incarnate, a wild ride that
could become addictive to someone as excitement starved as her. When he turned
that killer-watt smile her way, Sammy hated the way he heated her insides,
because what would someone like Josh want with a plain schoolteacher like her?