The motorbike abruptly crested the hill, heading straight toward her. She leaped off the trail to get out of harm’s way. But she landed off balance, her foot slipping on loose rocks and branches. She went down hard. The motorbike swerved around a curve, the driver letting out a loud whoop.
“Idiot,” she muttered, assessing for injuries. Her knees and the palms of her hands were scraped raw from her tumble, but it could have been worse.
She stood, and her right ankle zinged with pain. Great. Just what she needed—a sprained ankle roughly two and a half miles from home.
The sound of the motorbike grew louder again, and she stared at the trail, unable to believe the guy had the nerve to come back after the reckless stunt he’d pulled. Sure enough, he was riding down the trail, once again headed straight for her.
For a split second, she had the distinct impression that he was purposely trying to run her down. She scrambled out of the way, grasping the trunk of a tree for support as the motorbike whizzed by, so close that she could feel the heat from the engine blasting against her legs.
She clung to the tree for several long moments, afraid the motorcyclist was going to come back for a third time. She sent up a silent prayer, thanking God for her safety, before she finally let go of the tree and hobbled back onto the trail. She limped as pain reverberated up her leg with every step. Finding a thick tree branch, she improvised, using it as a walking stick.
The soft thud of footsteps on the trail made her tense. She forced herself to relax; there was no reason the driver of the motorbike would decide to come back on foot. It wasn’t unusual to pass other joggers on the trail.
Sure enough, a runner came into view. A tall man, wearing a sweaty orange T-shirt and navy blue shorts, with ear buds tucked into his ears blocking out the noise. Personally, she didn’t get why anyone would want to listen to music while running when the peace and quiet was so much more soothing. But to each his own.
As the jogger approached, she grimaced when she recognized Gabe Allen. She shouldn’t have been surprised; she’d passed him on the running trails before, and they’d exchanged brief greetings before heading their separate ways.
When he caught sight of her, he frowned and immediately slowed down, tugging the ear buds from his ears. “Larissa, are you all right? What happened?”
She willed her heart rate not to jump as he stepped closer, concern darkening his warm, brown eyes. She cleared her throat and strove for a light tone. “Did a hotshot on a motorbike fly past you?” she asked wryly. “Because he ran me off the trail—twice.”
“Yeah, I saw him.” Gabe dropped down to a crouch to examine the scrapes on her knees before he gently prodded her ankle. She sucked in a swift breath, and he glanced up at her. “This looks like a bad sprain.”
“Thanks for the diagnosis, doc,” she said lightly. “I realize I’m just a nurse, but I kinda figured that out all by myself.”
Gabe didn’t take offense but sent her a lopsided smile. “You should probably get an MRI to rule out ligament damage.”
She shrugged. “Yeah, but I can’t do that until the swelling goes down, anyway, right?”
“Right. You’ll get a better picture if you wait a few days,” he agreed, rising to his feet. “Come on, lean on me, and I’ll help you get home.”
“What?” His offer was so unexpected she nearly lost her balance. The last thing she needed was to cozy up to Gabe for two and a half long miles. “There’s no need for you to cut your run short because of me. I have my trusty walking stick. I’ll be fine.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not leaving you here like this. Leaning on me is way better than using a stick, and my place isn’t that far, just a mile and a quarter from here.”
A mile and a quarter still seemed like a long way, but it was better than going all the way to her apartment. She reluctantly nodded. “All right. But I’m hot and sweaty,” she warned as he wrapped his arm firmly around her waist.
“Me, too,” he said easily, shortening his stride to match hers.
Their progress was still awkward, and she was far too aware of being so close to Gabe. “I wish I knew who that motorbike driver was,” she muttered in an attempt to distract herself from his nearness. “I’d report him to the police. He’s a menace on these trails.”
“I’m pretty sure that was Tommy Hinkle,” Gabe said. “I’ve taken care of him a few times in the ER.”
“Annie’s son?” The knowledge almost made her feel sorry for him. “Do you think his father hits him, too?”
Gabe was silent for several moments. “Actually, I think the kid is probably too much like his father,” he said finally. “The last time Tommy was in the ER was because he was under arrest for driving under the influence. He bragged that his dad would bail him out, no problem. I got the impression his dad lets him do whatever he wants. Maybe even encourages him.”
She sighed and shook her head. “Poor Annie. I’m getting the feeling it’s two against one in that household.”
“Yeah, I’m afraid so.” They walked along in silence for a few minutes. Then Gabe’s arm tightened around her waist, drawing her to a halt. “There, see between the trees? That’s my place. Think you can make it that far?”
“Yes, I can make it,” she assured him, even though in truth, her right ankle still throbbed like crazy. Not to mention, being this close to him was wreaking havoc on her hard-won control.
Larissa knew she couldn’t afford to let her guard down with Gabe. No matter how much she wanted to.
____________
Gabe grimly paced off the distance to his place as they made their way along the trail. He couldn’t, in good conscience, leave Larissa to hobble along on her own, but holding on to her like this hadn’t been the brightest idea he’d ever had.
She fit against his side perfectly, her slight frame hiding a strength he couldn’t help but admire. Her ankle looked terrible, but she didn’t whine or complain. In fact, if he hadn’t offered to help her, he knew she would have continued on her way without asking for assistance.
He had to remind himself for the tenth time that she was an ER nurse, which meant she was off-limits. Permanently.
Knowing that Tommy Hinkle was the one who’d run her off the trail made him grit his teeth in anger. Larissa was right, the kid was a menace, but he suspected that there wouldn’t be much the police could do about it now.
“Gabe? Is something wrong?” Larissa asked.
He glanced down in surprise. “No, why?”
“Your arm around my waist is getting tighter and tighter,” she admitted. “You might want to lighten up a bit.”
He mentally smacked himself. “Sorry about that,” he said, relaxing his grip. “I was getting mad thinking about Tommy. How’s your ankle holding up?”
“Just peachy,” she said in a wry tone. “I’m trying to take heart in the fact that your house is slowly getting closer.”
“We’ll be there soon, and then you can relax,” he promised. His modest, wood-sided A-frame overlooking the lake was his private sanctuary, and while he wasn’t accustomed to having women over, it wasn’t as if he could drag Larissa all the way to town on foot. He knew she lived in the same apartment complex that Merry Haines and several of the other staff lived in because he’d overheard the nurses comparing notes one day about an exceptionally noisy neighbor.
“Your home looks very rustic,” she said as they finally approached the driveway. Only ninety more feet to go. “Somehow I expected something more...flashy.”
