Ellen continued. “Apparently it was just a graze to his chest from the discharged bullet. It looked worse on TV than it actually was since it bled a lot and Cisco was wearing a white shirt.”

“Uh, thanks, Ellen,” Hilly managed. “That makes me feel better. I, um, met with Cisco this morning, and was just…worried for him.”

“Uh, huh.” Now Ellen’s voice took on a different cadence. “He’s kind of cute, isn’t he?” she prodded.

Hilly knew better than to bullshit the woman. After all, she was the mother of eight boys, and would see right through any baloney Hilly handed her.

“Yeah. He is,” she allowed. Should she…?

Hilly went for it.

“I knew him in middle school, you know.”

“Ah. Before you went away to boarding school?” Ellen asked. She knew all about Hilly’s past, having been long-time friends with Hilly’s mother.

“Yeah. Before that. During my chunky, awkward years.”

“Don’t tell me. You had a crush on him.” Even though one couldn’t see a smile over the phone, Hilly knew the woman was beaming.

She really should have been embarrassed, but Ellen had always been a good friend, so…

“I did. And of course he never noticed me.”

“Oh, honey. That was a long time ago, and both of you were totally different people. Did he recognize you today when you met?”

“Nope. And…I’d kind of like to keep it that way. With my name having changed, there’s really no need for him to find out who I was. Who I am.”

Ellen’s voice turned hard. “Tell me. Was he one of the people who bullied you?”

“No.” Hilly quickly set her straight. “He wasn’t. As a matter of fact…”

She could remember it like it was yesterday.

“…he stood up for me a few times. One instance in particular…” She’d been surrounded by a group of boys and girls chanting horrid things at her on the playground, and he’d come over to see what the excitement was all about. Once he figured out what was happening, he—being a revered jock and the reigning soccer champ at school—had simply told everyone to lay off.

It had been that easy, and Hilly, with stars in her eyes, had crushed hard on him for the rest of the year until she’d left that unhealthy school environment for one where she felt safe, even without Cisco’s protection.

Now, however, here he was.

And here she was, fascinated by him all over again.

CHAPTER NINE

Cisco had brushed off all the concerns he’d received from his parents as he sat on the hospital bed being treated, as well as their offer to take care of him while he recuperated. He wasn’t going to let his injury keep him from work on Monday.

After they’d fussed over him, he’d sent them home with assurances he’d call if he needed anything. Since that time, Cisco had been kept busy flipping off buddies and teammates who’d stopped by, teasing him about getting shot on purpose so he’d get CTO—comped time off—while at the same time accusing him of acquiring his gnarly injury so he could impress women.

In truth, Cisco didn’t mind the teasing, but he was ready for the night to end. He was tired. He’d done his job. He’d received a deep furrow across his left pec which stung like a bastard, and all he wanted to do was go home, crawl onto his couch, and watch the end of the ballgame.

Welker, however, who’d shown up and taken a seat in Cisco’s curtained cubicle about twenty minutes ago, had different plans. Once the parade of well-wishers died down, he used his heels to scrape his chair closer to where Cisco sat hunched over on the gurney.

“Dude. We’ll have it made tonight, if you’ll just agree to go out. What better time than now to pick up women than when their sympathies will be running high? Most everyone will have seen you on the tube tonight, and I’ll make a bet that any woman would be eager to ‘kiss it better’ if you give them the chance.” Welker made some disgusting moues with his lips, and if anything, it firmed up Cisco’s determination to head to his quiet living room.

“Uh, uh. I’m going home, Welk. To tell you the truth, I’m beat, and I’m sore.”

Welker immediately backed off. “I didn’t know it was that bad. You put on a hell of a good act for all the company.”

“Which has probably worn me out even more,” Cisco admitted, growing impatient. All he needed was his walking papers from the attending doc, and he could leave this antiseptic-smelling place in the rearview mirror. “But you? Why don’t you chill with the team tonight. I understand a bunch of them are hitting up The Red Claw for a late-night seafood feast.”

A look passed over Welker’s face that Cisco couldn’t quite interpret, but then it was gone. “Nah. I don’t need to rehash work shit. I just need a willing woman, miles of soft skin, and the scent of wildflowers to keep me happy.”

Cisco thought the last sounded damned weird and oddly specific. Which made him think Welk had to be, inadvertently, referencing someone he clearly knew and desired. Cisco had an inkling who that certain someone might be, but he wasn’t about to go there. Welker would shoot him down instantly and start posturing. With Cisco’s waning energy, the drama wasn’t worth the effort.

“You go find a willing woman, then,” Cisco suggested. “But I’m not up for being your bait. Sorry Welk.”

“Spoil sport,” Welk huffed, but not in a genuine way. “I guess that does it for my hot time in the old town tonight because I’m sticking around to drive you home. Mason made sure your truck got back to your place, but there’s no way I’m letting you take an Uber or a cab home after you’ve lost so much blood. The ensuing callout we’d get to find your body slumped in somebody’s back seat would suck slugs.”

And there was his good friend. Making excuses, but stepping up to take care of him.

Cisco gave him one last out. “Thanks for that. But I’m not all that bad. I can order a ride.”

“Shut it, Cisco. I’m making sure you get home in one piece. My mother would have my hide if I didn’t.”

Welker’s mother could be a ball-buster. Normally a sweet, biddable woman, she was a terror when crossed, but Cisco knew Welk was just using her as an excuse for his soft heart.

“I can’t argue with you there,” Cisco conceded. “I⁠—”

“Here are your instructions for care once you get home.” His nurse, a no-nonsense, battle-ax, no-humor, care-giver briskly walked into his room holding a sheaf of papers out toward him. “You know the drill. Any sign of fever, puffiness, unusual redness, or wound discharge, come right back here or visit your own physician. A scrip for antibiotics has already been called in to your pharmacy of choice.” She handed the pile to him. “Please make sure you follow all these instructions.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Cisco agreed.

If she’d told him to stand on his head while reciting the Gettysburg Address, he would have readily complied. He wanted out of here, that badly.

“You’re free to go.” She turned on one soft heel to leave.

“Wait,” Cisco stopped her. He was still bare-chested except for the large white bandage across his pecs. “Do you have a scrub’s shirt I can have?” Putting on the bloody white material he’d previously shed was a definite no-go. He’d walk out half-naked if he had to.

Nurse Crotchety didn’t even turn around as she answered. “I’ll send one in.”

She marched out the door.

“How about taking her out for a little light entertainment?” Cisco prodded Welker with a grin. “She looks like she could use a bit of…loosening up.”

“No thanks. I’d rather hot-wax my balls,” Welker replied.

“I hear you.”