Pain, confusion, anger—they all swirled around inside my head, rendering me catatonic in front of the flaky Adonis who'd invited himself into my office. At least I'd stopped hopping around the room like a drunken jackrabbit.

"Are you OK?" West asked twice before I finally shook my head.

Still unable to speak, I held up my throbbing fingers, my thoughts caught somewhere between "I need to go to the hospital" and "What the hell are you doing here?" It also crossed my mind that I should just be holding up my middle finger. Good thing for Mr. Says-He'll-Call-But-Doesn't, my fingers were frozen in a claw, maybe in the early stages of rigor mortis.

West gently held my palm. "What did you do?"

"Door," was all I could creak out.

"Is there ice in your break room?" he asked, carefully turning my hand over to look at both sides. The underside of the finger he deserved was streaked with purple at the middle bend.

I nodded.

"Come on." He took hold of my elbow and ushered me down the hall directly to the office break room. Of course he knew where it was. Then he searched all the cabinets around the sink until he found a glass bowl that he carried to the refrigerator.

My knees felt a little wobbly, so I sank down at the table while he filled a bowl, first with ice and then with water. Then he sat down beside me, gingerly took my hand, and eased it into the freezing water. Tears finally ruptured from the edges of my eyes and trickled down my cheeks.

West's free arm curled around my shoulders and pulled me close to him.

It was a moment of weakness, for sure. I should've turned the ice water over onto his lap. But he was so very kind. His touch was nerve tingling and gentle. And he was disarmingly beautiful. Like his face had been put together for the sole purpose of making women question their judgment.

My face rested at the bend of his neck, where fresh cologne and pheromones provided the ultimate analgesic. I sniffed and wiped my nose on the back of my good hand. "I'm sorry," I whispered, pulling back and drying my eyes with my sleeve.

He smiled that earth-shattering smile of his. "Are you kidding? I get to save my favorite damsel in distress a second time before breakfast."

My laugh bubbled out more like a whimper. "What are you doing here?"

"I came by to apologize in person for never calling you."

My head snapped back. "Really? It's been weeks."

"I know, I suck," he said.

Couldn't argue there. It was a good thing he was so pretty.

He tucked a sweaty strand of my hair behind my ear. "I've had a lot going on. I promise it's not you."

It's funny how that's the one statement in the English language that can truly make a person feel exactly the opposite. I hadn't realized my face fell until West ducked his head in front of me to meet my eyes. "Are you free right now though? Maybe for a set of X-rays?"

Damn that charm.

My face broke into a smile, and I nodded. "OK."

West bundled some ice in a wad of paper towels and gently laid it across my knuckles. Then he tore a few more sheets from the roll and folded them into makeshift bandages which he secured around my hand. He dumped the bowl in the sink.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" I asked, admiring his handiwork with the substitute first-aid supplies.

"I've seen lots of injuries on job sites. You learn to work with what you have."

We stopped at my office, and West picked up my purse and keys where I'd dropped them on the floor, then we walked down the hall toward the front. "Why are you limping?" he asked.

Shit.

"Uh, new shoes." It wasn't a complete lie. The shoes were pretty new. They just weren't the cause of the blisters.

"Girls," he said with a sigh.

I paused at Audrey's door which was still open. West knocked on it.

Audrey looked up from her desk and pulled off her glasses when she noticed the paper towel cast. "Lily, what's going on?"

West looked at me. "Lily?"

I ignored him. "I accidentally slammed my hand in my office door, and I may have broken some fingers."

"I'm going to drive her to the emergency room," West added.

Concern and fear flashed across her face, probably fear that I might sue for workman's comp. "Oh, OK. Let me know what they say."

"I will," I said.

West held the door to the receptionist area open for me. "I thought your name was Lucy? Your door even says Lucy Cooper."

I sighed. "It is. Don't get me started."

Claire signed me out on our way through the lobby, and West escorted me to his truck that was parked at the curb. "I see you got a new bumper," I said as he opened the passenger-side door for me.

"Yeah, but I kept the old one as a keepsake." He held the small of my back as I climbed inside and waited until I fastened my seat belt. "I'm thinking about mounting it over my fireplace."

"Very manly," I said.

Smiling, he closed my door and walked around to the driver's side. "You gonna be all right?" he asked, pulling out onto the street.

The first answer that sprang to mind with the memory of my shoulder was "I've recently been worse." I didn't say that, of course. I wasn't ready to tell the world about my adventures in roller derby, especially immediately after proving I couldn't enter a room without incurring serious bodily injury.

I managed a smile. "I think I'll live."

"That's good to hear."

God, he was gorgeous.

"How have you been?" he asked.

"Great, actually. Busy with work and hanging out with friends." I hadn't spent a lot of time with people my own age since before Mom got sick, and it felt good. Really good. "How about you?"

"The same. We've got a new residential high-rise going up in The Gulch. We'll actually get close enough to see it here in a minute. We're hoping to finish it before Thanksgiving, and then, hopefully, business will slow down some in the winter."

"Why didn't you tell me you built the Summit Tower?"

He grinned. "Been asking around about me, huh?"

Nope. Internet stalking.

"Would it have mattered?" he asked.

"Yes."

He shot me a questioning glance.

"I wouldn't have had to give you directions the day you took me to work."

He laughed.

We drove past the Johnny Cash Museum, which already had a line of tourists forming at the door. Then he turned left onto Broadway, the main drag of downtown's honky-tonk scene. Even before nine in the morning, the neon signs were glittery and glowing. Most everything was still closed, so the sidewalks were quiet, but the traffic—which was becoming legendary in Music City—was bumper to bumper as far as my eyes could see.

"You know what? I have a better idea," West said, looking over his shoulder to check his blind spot. He cut into the left lane, then into the turning lane, and turned down a side street. "There's an urgent care on the other side of the river. That would be going away from traffic and would probably have less of a wait time."

"They do X-rays?"

"Yep."

I nodded. "That's a good plan. I really don't want to waste any more of your morning than I already have."

"Don't worry about my morning, Lucy. There's no other way I'd rather spend today."

I frowned and raised my bandaged hand into the air. "Really? You can't think of anything better?"

He laughed as he stopped at a red light. "You know what I mean."

"Now that I think about it, half the times I've seen you, you've tried to take me to the hospital."

He shrugged. "Busted. I commissioned the wasp that attacked you in the car, and I filed the door edges in your office extra sharp. All so I could rush in and save the day."

"You did build the tower, after all."

"You've got me all figured out." He flashed a smile across the cab. "Maybe next time I'll try a tactic a little less hazardous to your health. Like dinner, perhaps."

"Dinner is preferable to the emergency room," I said, barely able to sit still in my seat.

"Are you free on Friday?"

Fireworks exploded in my mind. "As long as my injuries aren't fatal, I think I am."

The light turned green, and he grinned and stepped on the gas. "By all means then, let's waste no time getting you the best medical care possible."