Page 119 of That Time I Kissed My Beachfront Boss

Panting and breathless, I wrest myself free from his grasp. “I won’t move them,” I growl. “But I’m going to her. You can’t stop me.”

Picking my way through the debris, I approach the hood of the truck. It’s an accordion now. The windshield’s shattered, and the driver’s side window is completely blown out.

“Liv!” She’s slumped over the steering wheel, but she lifts her head, trying to turn toward me. Blood streams from her forehead down her face.

“Be still!” My voice is a guttural command. “I’m here, Liv. You’re going to be okay.”

She’s going to be okay.

“Jacqueline?” I call out, craning my neck for a clear view of the passenger side. “Are you all right?” She’s there sitting upright, rubbing at her skull. No blood. Good.

“I think so,” she groans.

“Stay put,” I say, willing the ambulance get here quickly.

“Your cousin’s on his way,” I tell Liv, reaching through the smashed window to stroke her cheek. “Ford will be here soon. We’re gonna get you out.”

“I … don’t … feel …” Her thready voice trails off in a whisper I can’t hear.

“Liv?”

Her head lolls back against the seat, and she goes limp.

Chapter Forty-Eight

Olivia

The first thing I realize when I come to my senses is that I’m not alone.

Someone’s holding my hand. The grip is warm, strong, and steady. I have no idea where I am, I only know that I feel safe. I try to move, but my head throbs, so I lie still and work at prying my crusty eyes open.

Blink. Blink. Blink.

The lighting is dim, but I’m pretty sure I’ve been in the dark for a while, so. Yeah.

Bright.

“Hey, hey, hey,” someone murmurs in a low, deep voice. “She’s waking up.” Sounds like Hudson. He leans into my sightline. Flop of dark hair. Dark eyes. Full lips. Yes.

Definitely Hudson.

“We’ve been expecting you,” he says. “You started showing signs of waking up earlier this morning, and now … here you are.” His gaze roams my face, searching and grateful. “You did it.”

I inhale, hoping to capture his scent, but get antiseptic soap instead. Ugh. Where am I?

“You’re in the ICU,” he says, as if he just reached into my brain and pulled out my question.

Off to the side, there’s a beep of monitors. An IV line is attached to my arm. A privacy curtain wraps around my bed. I’m under a peach-colored blanket and the upper half of my body is propped with pillows.

Looks like a hospital, all right.

My hand that Hudson isn’t holding has something clamped to a finger. Blood pressure? Pulse? Who knows. I’m not a doctor. Or a nurse.

Speaking of which …

“Well, hello there, sleepyhead,” Natalie says, coming into view. She positions herself at the foot of the bed in navy-blue nursing scrubs. “I’m going to do some checks on you, okay? Just easy stuff. Totally routine. Heart rate, respiration, temperature, blood pressure. I’ll be quick.”

I’m too foggy to know exactly what Natalie does to me next, but it involves flashing a light in my eyes, then some squeezing and poking. She bustles around, messing with my IV and making notes on a chart. Finally she sets the chart on a mobile tray and meets my gaze. “You gave us a scare there, Liv,” she says. “But you’ve been in good hands this whole time. Doctor Markowitz is the best.” She inclines her head toward Hudson. “So is he.”

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