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It didn't take long for the doctors in the emergency room to assess her leg and determine she had a bad sprain. Nat was thanking God that she hadn't broken anything. That she'd only be out of work for a few weeks, less if she could help it. And then she was going straight back over to Mrs. O's yard and she was going to find the hole or root or whatever she'd tripped on and she was going to fix it. Dylan came into the room with a short blonde nurse on his heels. She pushed a wheelchair and offered a friendly smile. Nat glanced at the woman's name tag. Thank heavens. She could get out of here now. “Time to go home,” Barbara, the perky nurse, said. Nat had to keep from rolling her eyes. Dylan smirked over the top of Barbara's head. Why the heck was he enjoying this? Her ankle was killing her, she hadn't finished her planting, and he'd dropped a proverbial bomb on her. Grinding her teeth together she hopped carefully off the table and collapsed into the wheel chair. Barbara chatted the whole way out to Dylan's truck and by the time he opened the passenger's side door, Nat wanted to cover her ears and beg the woman to stop talking. Dylan reached for her then, a look she'd never seen before in his eyes. She settled against his chest like she'd been there a thousand times before. She was startled at how well she fit there... and worse, she liked the feeling. Maybe she was just being silly. The trauma could be playing with her mind. Making her feel things that weren't really there. Things that would be gone tomorrow. No one had ever picked her up like this. Maybe it was the novelty of it that she liked. When he deposited her in the truck and started around the front to the drivers' side she thought back over their earlier conversations. About what he'd said today. And as he vaulted into the cab next to her and slammed the door she started to panic. He was her best friend. She couldn't loose him. She simply couldn't.
Dylan let Nat wait in the truck while he headed into her small house. He propped some pillows at the end of the couch and moved the remote to the coffee table. He put her medicine and a glass of water next to it and then headed to her bedroom to get her more comfortable clothes. She'd stewed the whole way home and for the life of him he couldn't tell what she was thinking. That bothered him. He heard the truck door slam and he glanced out the window. She stood next to the truck, her injured leg held in the air like a flamingo. “Dammit,” he cursed and headed for the door. “I can manage,” she protested when he got close. He silently counted to ten and stared her down, praying for patience. “I know you can,” he told her finally and scooped her up. “But this'll be faster.” He started up the path. “Finally!” He turned to see Nat's neighbor standing at her mailbox. “Congratulations you two,” she said and waved. Nat started to protest but Dylan silenced her with a kiss. Her lips were soft, full beneath his. He could feel her shock as a stillness came over her. Before he let himself lose his head any further he severed the kiss and entered the house. Need tightened in his gut and he made himself shut the door instead of looking at the woman in his arms. She felt so right there. Didn't she understand? He stepped toward the couch and glanced down into her upturned face and found her watching him. Her arms tightened around his shoulders and he fought a losing battle.
What should happen next? It's your call! Email me and let me know.
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