Chapter Seventeen

Hanna counted out pennies to pay for her prescription and bandages, squirming under the impatient gaze of a man in a white lab coat. The small bottle of generic ibuprofen sat to the side, already discarded as a non-critical expense once she'd seen the total she owed. She didn't know when payday with Nate was, and she still had truck repairs to make before she could leave town. Not to mention feeding herself. Every penny counted.

At least today's doctor's bill could wait until her first—or second—real paycheck on her job in Oklahoma. She imagined it would take them that long to send the bill. Plus, without an address and merely her promise of calling with one when she was settled, no bills could come until she was ready.

The idea of paying Nate's mom late disgusted her, but she knew how expensive moving could be and hoped that her initial expenses for rent and utility deposits were not too horrible.

Another problem for another day. Right now, all she wanted was to get out from under the uncomfortable stare of the pharmacist and find a way to hold her shoulder that didn't tug at the stitches.

She walked a few more blocks down the street to Declan's shop. The place consisted of a large metal building with three garage bays. Inside, along one wall was an office area and a waiting room with a glass picture window overlooking the action. The smell of new rubber and old oil filled the space, along with a citric hint of degreaser and pine air freshener.

No one was in the waiting room. The office lights were off. Several cars were parked outside, and the LED sign reading MECHANIC ON DUTY shone in the outside window.

Inside the relative cool of the shadowy garage bays, she found what she was looking for.

Rex's hood was up, with wires and hoses spewing from him like entrails. The sight made some vital organ clench hot and tight in her gut. He looked past all hope, but yet she couldn't bring herself to write him off as a lost cause. Not yet. Maybe never.

A big man was bent over the engine of a convertible, his muscular back flexing as he worked.

"Declan?" she called as she approached, hoping she'd found him and not some other random mechanic.

Declan straightened. A grin spread across his face before he'd come to a full upright position.

He was a handsome man in a reckless kind of way, with no rhyme or reason to his casual style. His hair was a bit too long, his face shadowed with a bit too much stubble. His jeans were a bit too tight, and that gleaming smile a bit too charming. But on him, all of it looked good.

He was tattooed, pierced, rough around the edges, and exactly the type of man she'd always fallen for in her long and disappointing string of bad romantic choices.

"Heya, sweet thing. What brings you to my lair?" He peeled greasy blue rubber gloves from his hands and flung them into a nearby trash can with the ease of an MVP.

"I was hoping for a little good news on Rex. I really could use some."

"Aww. Poor little girl having a hard day? I'd offer to kiss you and make it better, but Nate would thump me for trying. My cousin's got a thing for you, sweet cheeks." His gaze warmed and dipped as he spoke, as if he could actually see how sweet her ass cheeks were through her body if he tried hard enough.

"Has the part come in?" she asked, working to steer this conversation back on track.

"I'm expecting it later today. I was just clearing the way so I could get it in nice and quick. I know what a hurry you're in."

"I appreciate that."

"You know, this place isn't half bad. You could stay a while. Enjoy a little R&R before the big new job starts. I bet Nate would be happy to show you all the sights. Handshake Rock is my personal favorite."

"I don't have time for sightseeing. I was just in town, so I thought I'd stop by and check on my buddy, here."

Declan's gaze dropped to the white paper back emblazoned with a large red RX symbol. "You okay?"

"Just a little mishap." One that was beginning to throb in time with her heartbeat.

Maybe leaving that ibuprofen behind had been a bad idea after all. She didn't know how she was going to keep working on the Yellow Rose without hurting herself, but she had to find a way to manage—even if it meant going back and suffering under the impatient gaze of the man in the white lab coat so she could count out more pennies to buy the little bottle of painkillers.

"It was a hell of a lot more than that," Nate said from behind her.

She jumped slightly, and the movement made her stitches pull tight. She winced and heard a small noise of pain pass through her lips before she could stop it.

He sounded upset when he spoke to Declan. Almost angry. "Mom had to sew her back up again."

She turned and saw a white sack matching her own clutched in his hand. He thrust it at her. "I went looking for you. You forgot this."

She took the sack and peered inside. In it was a bottle of painkillers, but not the tiny one she'd picked out. Nate had bought her the giant economy sized bottle of the name brand stuff that was supposed to work even faster in its fancy liquid form.

She knew how much the medicine cost.

He wasn't the loser in this relationship. He wasn't the one who couldn't afford a fucking bottle of pills.

"I don't need it," she said, thrusting the bag back at him. "Take it back."

"Like hell."

"What's got you all riled up, cousin?" Declan asked. "Did you get grounded?"

"Screw you, grease monkey. Next time my mom comes by trolling for gossip, just keep you damn mouth shut, okay?"

Hanna looked between the men, trying to figure out what was happening.

Declan shrugged one shoulder under his torn T-shirt. "No one denies Dr. Grace what she wants and lives to tell the tale. I was just playing nice, telling ol' auntie like it is."

"Next time, leave Hanna out of it."

Now she was really confused. "Leave me out of what?"

Declan leaned one hip casually against the bright red convertible. "The Tattletale Telegraph. Moves at the speed of sound, leaving no juicy bit of gossip untold and no wayward son unpunished."

That last part was about Nate. She could tell by the way his lip curled in a near snarl.

"Punished?" she asked. "For what?"

"Drop it, Dec," Nate warned.

Declan held up his hands in surrender, revealing a grease smear on one thick forearm. It was rusty brown against the black ink of his tattoo, obscuring the words written there so that Hanna couldn't read them.

"It's dropped. You all go on with your day and leave me to mine. I have a lot of work to do before I can get Sweet Cheek's beater all patched up and working right."

"Just the bare minimum," she reminded him. "No bells or whistles. I don't need radio or air conditioning or anything else. Just get Rex's wheels turning and let me be on my way."

Declan let out a deep belly laugh. "Have you ever been to Oklahoma in the summer, sweet thing?"

"Don't call her that," Nate said.

Declan ignored him. "It's hotter than Satan's anus. Air conditioning is neither a bell nor a whistle. It's a necessity."

"I've lived through hot summers before without air. I can do it again."

Nate shook his head. "I told him to fix it. I don't want to read about your mummified corpse on the side of the road."

"I can't afford it," she said, feeling her blood pressure rising along with her irritation. She bet neither of them had to worry about things like not being able to keep a decent car running.

The wound on her back throbbed in vicious retaliation for her emotional outburst.

Declan and Nate exchanged some silent communication that only men could understand.

"It's not that pricey," Declan said. "No worries."

Not pricey to him, maybe, but neither of them knew just how bad things were for her.

She didn't want them to know.

Nate held out his hand. "Let's get you home to bed, Hanna. You need to rest."

She realized in that instant that she was being handled. By both of them. And while being teamed up on by a pair of men as hot as these two was every girl's naughty little fantasy, this wasn't like any daydream she'd ever had.

To Declan, she said, "He's my truck. He may not be much, but he's mine. I get to say what gets fixed and doesn't." She turned to Nate. "And I'm not some china doll with a cracked head. It's a little cut. I'm fine to work."

She needed to work. How else was she going to get back on the road, away from Nate where she couldn't sully him with her loser ways?

"Over my dead body," Nate said, his gaze hard and unyielding.

She couldn't deal with this. She was tired, hurting, frustrated and overwhelmed. She would not be bullied on top of it all.

Hanna turned on her heel and left the shop to walk back to the Yellow Rose and prove she wasn't broken and helpless. Over her shoulder, she said, "Pay me or not, Nate, but I'm going back to work."

***

Between Declan's flirting with the woman Nate wished was his, Mom's meddling, and Hanna's irrational belief that she should go back to doing the thing that hurt her in the first place, Nate was at the end of his patience.

He took one step toward the door before Declan's voice caught him. "Are you sure you still want her? Because you know I have a thing for feisty chicks, and from the looks of things, you're having trouble sealing the deal with little Miss Curvy Bottom."

Nate ground his teeth together to keep from shouting at the man he loved like a brother. "Back off. Stay backed off. And don't ever talk about her ass again."

"Suit yourself," said Declan with heavy resignation. "You know where to find me if you decide that feisty is too much trouble for you."

Nate walked out before he said something he regretted.

He found Hanna two blocks away, walking at a punishing pace toward the edge of town. It would have taken her nearly two hours to reach the Yellow Rose, but from the way it looked, she was determined to get there on foot.

Nate pulled his truck over and rolled down the window. "Get in, Hanna."

"I'm fine, thanks."

"It's ninety degrees in the shade and you don't have any water."

"It's not that long a walk. I won't die." She kept right on going, forcing him to pace her.

"You're being silly. It's hot. You've been through a trauma today and bled enough that you probably shouldn't be exerting yourself. Just get in. Please?"

Her steps slowed, then stopped. She turned toward him. "Promise me you won't try to stop me from working."

He could have said any number of things to end this argument. He could have told her that it was his property and if she stepped foot on it, he'd have her arrested for trespassing. He could have told her that his insurance would go through the roof if he was found letting an injured worker risk further injury on the same day as her accident. He could have even told her that he didn't want or need her help, and that if she wanted a job, she could find one elsewhere.

But he said none of those things. The simple fact was he couldn't stand the idea of letting her go on her way and leave him not knowing her fate. She'd hurt herself helping him, and he wasn't going to abandon her when she couldn't even change the damn bandage herself.

"I promise," he said. "But you have to do something less strenuous and dirty. No more cleaning out trash and construction debris."

She took a step toward him and propped her arms on the open window frame. He noticed the slight wince she hid as soon as it appeared.

He really did need to find her something to do that wasn't going to rip out all his mom's tidy stitches.

"What do you have in mind?" Hanna asked.

"Paperwork?"

She shook her head. "I'm no good at it. And I'd rather take a beating than sit at a desk all day."

He almost asked her if her new job wouldn't be just that, but held his tongue.

"Okay. What about the mantle?"

"What about it?"

"You said woodwork was your specialty. Show me your stuff."

She stared at him for several seconds as if debating. Finally, she said, "I'm going need more paint stripper."

He nodded. "We'll stop by the hardware store on the way back." And after that, he'd convince her to get something to eat with him. It was well past lunch, and they both needed to keep their strength up—her to heal and him to find the patience to deal with a stubborn woman.

"It's a deal, then," she said. "But if you think one little booboo is going to keep me from pulling my weight, you're going to find out just how wrong a man can be."