Page 3

Brynn

"Blood pressure looks great, hun. The doctor will be in shortly.

" The nurse smiles at me as she takes the cuff off my arm.

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and glances at Ethan and his two friends quickly before meeting my eyes again.

The three of them, all tall and handsome, take up a lot of space in the small room.

As she leans in to adjust my pillow, she whispers, "Get it, girl," and then heads out of the room with a giggle.

I shake my head, darting a quick glance at Ethan who has not stopped watching me since he pulled me out of the water. "Um, you guys should go. I can get a ride back to The Palmer when I'm done."

"No." Ethan crosses his arms in front of his chest stubbornly, and I look at his friend for help instead. Did he say his name was Garrett? No. It was Barrett.

Barrett eyes Ethan carefully, before shrugging his shoulders. "We'll stay a little longer."

I let out a long sigh.

"Are you in pain? Should I get the nurse?" Ethan paces a few steps and then comes back to the bed. He tugs at his light brown hair, making it stand up on the side. His bright blue eyes are filled with concern.

"No, I'm fine. I just...I don't understand..." I trail off, shaking my head again as my cheeks heat. "I'm not going to sue you, if that's what you're worried about."

The third guy, whose name I've completely forgotten, scoffs. "You totally should. Ethan's loaded. And not just from book money." He winks at me with a flirty smile, and I let out a nervous laugh.

"Shut up, West," Ethan grits out, but he doesn't look away from me.

"No, seriously, Brynny—may I call you that? I can tell we're going to be great friends. He's got the money. Sue the pants off of him."

Ethan walks over to West, shoves him backward, and closes the curtain between us. "I'll pay for all your medical expenses and any other bills that arise from this situation, Brynn. No question."

"No. It's not necessary." I lick my lips and then flush when unmistakable lust flashes in his eyes. This man is ridiculously hot. All strong and growly. His expensive t-shirt strains around his biceps, emphasized when he crosses his arms stubbornly. I shake my head.

Nope. This is a no-boys allowed summer. It's the painkillers. It's making me impulsive and horny. I squeeze my thighs together and firm my resolve.

My vag is off-limits, Hotty-Pants-McGee.

"I have health insurance through the resort. And I shouldn't have been by your pier." The last part comes out embarrassingly breathy as I try, and fail, to calm my racing heart under his intense attention.

"My client is not admitting fault, Ethan Hobbs.

" I break eye contact with Ethan as West's vice floats through the thin curtain, loud and clear.

"Brynny-kins, you should be able to swim wherever you like without fear of being hooked like a common fish.

" I glance at Ethan quickly, biting back a smile as infuriated irritation flashes across his face.

"You're a glorified accountant, West. Not a lawyer," Ethan grits out.

"No, but I know tons of them, Brynny. We'll get through this."

Barrett places a hand on Ethan's chest, standing between him and approximately where West must be as Ethan clenches his fists.

"West and I are going to get a car back to your place, Ethan.

Brynn, I hope you feel better soon." He turns quickly, ducking behind the curtain, and I can hear West's protests down the hall until the door closes behind them with a soft click.

And then we're alone. I swallow hard, holding my breath when Ethan opens his mouth. But he closes it again and continues to stare at me. My heart beats wildly. Oh my god. This man is intense.

I clear my throat. “May I borrow your phone please?” Ethan immediately unlocks it and hands it to me. His fingers brush mine, and I shiver from his touch. Work is a good distraction.

Hi Celeste, this is Brynn. Don't panic, but I'm at the hospital. It involves Eric being his typical jerk self and a fishing hook. Fill you in later.

Can you let me know if the Winfrees made it back to the resort okay? And, see if you can get my phone from the boat?

"Who are you texting?" Ethan asks on a growl, and I look at him in confusion. Does this man ever speak without sounding like a grumpy, hungry bear?

"I'm texting my friend at work. I need to let her know where I am and check on the guests I was supposed to be with."

303-555-7878

OMG! I've been so worried about you. Mr. Maloney said you're off the rest of the day and maybe longer. We've got it covered.

The Winfrees are fine, but they were furious you were left in the lake. I think Eric is in big trouble, btw. thumbs-up. I dropped your phone and bag off at your place. Text when you get back, and I'll bring you some food.

"Did you call my work?" I ask incredulously.

Ethan clenches his jaw. "I know Bradford Maloney. I told him I had to take you to the hospital and you would be off for a few days."

"Excuse me?!" I squeak out. "You told the CEO of the resort I wouldn't be in for a few days? I need my job, Ethan."

Ethan snorts. "Bradford isn't going to fire you for this. I'd have his ass if he did."

Overstepping, entitled, arrogant, growly, sexy, ass-hat!

I stare at him, so enraged my internal thoughts are trapped. My mouth is open, but all that comes out is a tiny little squeak. I grind my teeth and try to calm down so I can give him a piece of my mind with working audio, but then the door opens.

"Hello. I'm Dr. Schmidt." A kind man who looks to be in his early sixties walks over to my bed, giving me a big smile as he reads my chart. Oblivious to the tension in the room, he pulls out a flashlight and checks my pupils, then he notes my vitals before declaring me ready to head home.

"Did you check for a concussion? She passed out in the car on the way here." Ethan drills the doctor, who does a double-take.

"Mr. Hobbs! Yes, of course. Your wife is in great health." Dr. Schmidt, who I've already started calling Mister Rogers in my head, smiles at me kindly. "Other than the puncture in your arm from the hook and a goose egg on your noggin, of course. Rough day on the water, eh?"

"He's not my husband," I say, focusing on the most pressing issue. I glare at Ethan when he scoffs. "Well, you're not!"

"Yet," Ethan mutters, and I gape at him incredulously.

What the what?

Mister Rogers looks between the two of us and then clears his throat.

"While there are no signs of a concussion, we do suggest you take it easy for the next twenty-four hours or so.

You should have someone with you, just in case.

" The doctor pats my arm, and a low growl comes from the gorgeous man hovering over me like I'm going to break into tiny pieces at any moment.

Is he seriously jealous of Mister Rogers, who looks like he has a whole gaggle of grandchildren who visit him on the weekends?

"I'll keep an eye on her," Ethan grits out.

What is this guy's problem? He's that afraid of a lawsuit?

Mister Rogers nods, quickly removing his hand from my arm and then hustles out of the room.

"I'll go tell the nurse you're ready to leave," Ethan says curtly, but I stop him before he can go.

"Ethan, I appreciate your concern," I start, in as gentle and unthreatening a tone as I can muster, "but I'm calling a ride-share to take me home. You've done plenty." I use my polite but firm voice reserved for extra-annoying wealthy guests.

Ethan turns back toward my bed, getting close to my face as his large hand cups my cheek. His skin is hot against mine, his eyes dart to my mouth, and I swallow hard, mesmerized by the cut of his strong jawline. Like it's chiseled from marble. My body reacts instantly as I suck in a quick breath.

"If you think I am leaving you alone, you have no idea who you're dealing with."

Then he kisses me with an intensity that steals all my breath away.

"You're mine," he whispers on a growl, before striding out of the room with purpose.

Oh my god. I'm in a coma.