Chapter Five
“Put me down, you Neanderthal.” Amy beat on Hawke’s back. “What is this, some kind of gorilla mating ritual?” What in the hell is he doing? He hadn’t wanted to dance with her, so she didn’t understand what the big deal was.
“No fighting in the bar,” he said as he shoved the door open and walked outside. Still, he didn’t put her down.
“I was having fun. I wasn’t fighting. What is wrong with you?”
“You can’t swing your sweet ass in a place like that and expect there won’t be trouble.” That was a backhanded compliment, but she wasn’t falling for it.
“Put me down, you jerk. And you’re the reason my sweet ass was in there in the first place. I didn’t even get my stupid cake.” For some reason, she wanted to cry. Dumb, but there it was. But she wouldn’t give this jerk the satisfaction. He’d think her weak. That couldn’t happen with him. She refused to show any real emotion where he was concerned. Even though she had to keep reminding herself this was all pretend.
They reached his truck. He popped the door open and tossed her unceremoniously into the seat. She hit her ankle on the car door.
“Shit.” Pain shot through her leg and straight to her stomach. She doubled over and sucked in a breath. “That hurts.” She gritted the words out through her tight lips. The tears that had been so close threatened to spill. She closed her eyes and took deep breaths. She was used to pain. As a dancer, she lived with it every day. Even her emotions were something she usually kept tamped down, deep down. But today, everything seemed to be at the surface.
“Fuck. Amy. I’m sorry.” He knelt down and took off her shoe. “Let me run back in and get you some ice.”
He put a hand on her shoulder, but she shook it off. “Don’t touch me. Just take me home.” She moved to get away from him and jarred her ankle again. Something was really wrong. “Crap. Crap. Crap. That hurts.”
I will not cry. I will not cry.
Gently, he lifted her foot and put it in the car and then shut the door.
Stupid idiot. If she didn’t hurt like a mother, she’d be screaming obscenities, but that wasn’t possible because she was trying to breathe and not cry at the same time.
She sucked in another breath, but it didn’t staunch the tears falling to her cheeks.
Dammit. She didn’t want to cry in front of him.
He opened the other door, and she turned around, but not fast enough for him to miss the tears. “Dammit, Amy, I’m sorry. Really, I am. Hold on. I’ll be right back.” He shut his door and then locked it before running back into the bar. He came out with Sherilynn, a towel, and a bag of ice.
“She’s a doctor,” he said.
Amy knew that. He’d told her about all his brothers and sisters the night they’d signed the prenup, and again when they were shopping. They’d discussed their families, giving the barest of backgrounds so their stories were straight. Then he hadn’t talked to her, other than to ask her what she wanted for a meal, for the rest of the week.
Their vows, short as they were, had been the longest conversation they’d had.
It’s only for two months.
But right now she hated him.
“Here, go get my bag out of the car,” she said to her brother as she handed him the keys.
“I’m fine,” Amy said. “I just hit it on the car door. He’s overreacting.”
Sherilynn smiled. “Oh, I know. He’s feeling guilty because he knows he acted like a jerk. If I were you, I’d give him hell. And for the record, I’m in the second year of my residency, but I specialize in sports medicine. I heard a rumor you were pulling Gelsey out of retirement.” That was her therapist. A former, very famous prima ballerina, Gelsey had revolutionized the way dancers trained and treated their bodies. She believed in a special, very healthy diet, all types of warm-up exercises, and tons of water to keep the muscles fluid. When she’d retired from the dance world, she’d gone into medicine. She was one of the most sought after therapists in the world, and only worked when she wanted to.
“Yeah. She’s a friend of the artistic director at the ballet company. She’s the main reason I came to Austin.” Ben, the director, had been worried about Amy’s injuries and asked way too many questions, but telling him the truth would have opened a can of worms she wasn’t ready to deal with. No way would she rat out a fellow dancer, even if said person was a royal jerk who’d “accidentally” hurt her.
Don’t think about that now.
Sherilynn handed her the towel. “Use this to wipe the tears away. I’m going around to the other side so I can get a better look at your ankle. Can you slide it up on the center console, carefully, please?”
By the time she did as the other woman asked, Hawke was back with the doctor’s bag. Sherilynn dug around a bit and pulled out a flashlight. She gave the ankle a thorough examination. Gently, she probed the sorest area, but it didn’t hurt. Sherilynn had a gentle touch, and while Amy was no expert, she seemed to know what she was doing.
“Hmmm. I’m going to email Gelsey. I think you might want to get another MRI. And they had to have given you a boot. Keep it on, even when you sleep. You want to keep it as immobile as possible right now, just while it’s healing. Your rehab time will be shorter if you do what I say. Stretch it once or twice a day, but the rest of the time keep it wrapped. And when you can, keep it elevated. And these platforms are flat, but if you’d fallen or twisted the ankle, you would have added another couple of months to your recovery. Nothing more than flats or sneakers.”
Bile burned the back of Amy’s throat. Another MRI. “It’s been feeling better. That’s why I thought it would be okay to wear shoes.”
“Yeah. I’m sure it’s fine. But those platforms, while smarter than heels, weren’t such a good choice. A flat with the boot might not have been as elegant, but it also wouldn’t have put pressure on it. We have a state-of-the-art sports-training facility at the hospital where I work. I’ll have Gelsey set up a time to meet. I’ve taken some of her workshops. We work with some of the top athletes in the world. I’m thinking it won’t hurt to take another look.”
God. What if I’ve hurt it again? No. She couldn’t go there. Not now. She was barely keeping it together as it was.
What is wrong with me?
You got married, idiot. Aren’t brides supposed to cry? Maybe real ones, but this was about as fake as it could get. If the Neanderthal who’d thrown her in the truck wasn’t proof of that, she wasn’t sure what was.
Sherilynn smiled up at her. “Really. I think it’s fine. Ice it until you get home, and then put the ankle boot back on.”
“I’m the world’s biggest asshole,” Hawke said, his brows drawn with worry.
Yep. And I married you.
“You”—his stepsister poked his chest—“treat her like she’s fine china, because she is. Don’t be lugging her around like a sack of potatoes. She’s your wife, for fuck’s sake. Treat her with some respect.”
After his sister left, Hawke jumped in and started the truck. Before he backed out, he turned to her. “I really am sorry.”
She didn’t bother to answer, just lifted her leg and then turned and glared out the window. Two months with the Neanderthal. He’d better be great in bed.
…
He pulled onto the highway, sparing a quick glance at her reflection in the mirror. At least there weren’t tears. There was something wrong with him. Sure, he lived in a world that was a bit rough around the edges, but he treated women with respect. It was another one of his rules. That was something his mother had taught him from a very young age.
His actions had physically caused her pain.
Asshole.
He’d never manhandled a woman. But he’d seen those guys leering at her, and he had had to get her out. He’d been worried for her safety. Dovey would have never let things get out of hand. But that wasn’t the biggest reason why he’d acted so crazily.
Shit. He didn’t like the way they were looking at her.
Fuck.
He owed her an explanation. “I didn’t like the way those guys were looking at you back there. You’re so fucking sexy, the way you were dancing. And, well, fights have started over a lot less.”
She stared at the window.
“I shouldn’t have picked you up like that. It was wrong. I wasn’t thinking. I just wanted to get you out of there as fast as possible.”
Silence.
She hated him. It was probably for the best.
“I know you didn’t mean to hurt my ankle again,” she said softly as he changed lanes.
“The last thing I want to do is hurt you. I promise you that. You have no idea how much you’ve helped my family and me, and that was no way to show my gratitude.” The words were true, and he meant them in a lot of ways she couldn’t imagine. For the first time, he would have control of the company. Never again would he have to worry about his dad accidentally giving away enough of the shares that they’d lose their business. And as much as he hated to admit it, she was the reason he could breathe a little easier.
A fact he should appreciate a great deal more. There was one problem—his brain just flat ass didn’t work. His dick was in charge when it came to her, and if they were going to survive the next two months in the same house, he’d have to get himself under control.
“Then don’t ever treat me like that again. I haven’t been in a lot of relationships, but the last one… He was… I don’t like being manhandled.”
Had her last boyfriend hit her? Men like that should be strung up by their dicks and burned alive.
Fuck. How was he any different? He’d known she was hurt and had only been thinking about how pissed he was the other guys were watching her. He was the lowest of the low. “Never again. I keep saying this, but I promise you, I was just trying to get you out as fast as possible. That place—I was an idiot for taking you there. I just wanted to show you the kind of guy you married, so that you didn’t get any ideas. Guess the joke’s on me.”
She shifted toward him. “What do you mean, so I don’t get any ideas?”
He shrugged. “Like this is a long-term sort of thing.”
She snorted. “Dude, this is going to be the longest two months of my life. I can’t dance, and I’m stuck trying to pretend like the happiest day ever is when I was dumb enough to marry a Neanderthal. Yep. I’m definitely thinking long term.”
Well, hell. The ballerina had some bite.
He chuckled. He couldn’t help it. Damned if he couldn’t stop laughing. “Sorry. I don’t mean to make light of the situation. It’s just you’re right. I’m a fucking idiot.” He pulled into the driveway and clicked the remote for the garage door.
When he pulled the truck to a stop, he turned to find her smiling at him. “My one and only wedding reception was at a dive bar. You carried me out over your shoulder. That’s a story to tell the grandkids I’ll never have.”
“There’s that. If I promise to be gentle, will you please let me help you into the house? And you can stay downstairs in my suite.” Then he held up his hands. “I’ll stay in the other master on the opposite side of the house. It’s crazy for you to go up and down those stairs.”
“Why don’t I stay in the other master?”
He shrugged. “Mine has a tub that will be easier for you to get in and out of, and you’ll able to soak your ankle.”
She seemed to sag against the seat back. The pain, and probably the strain of the day, had taken their toll. “I’m too tired to argue with you, caveman.”
He deserved that.
“Well, that’s a first.”