Page 13 of Between Two Thorns

“Hold up. Where are we going exactly?” Rose leaned back from him, the door swinging forward and hitting her in the rear.

On her one good foot, that was enough to knock her forward, off of the concrete block and towards the cold parking lot—when steady arms caught her against his chest, and set her back upright.

“Thank you, again, saved my life, twice in one night. My hero.” She grinned, but Del’s green eyes quickly looked away from her. Before she could prompt him further, the man shrugged off his baggy jacket and draped it around her shoulders.

A grunt was the only answer he gave. And a grunt was not enough answer for Rose.

“Not to sound ungrateful or anything, because swooping me up was awesome, but you are dragging me into the parking lot—”

“Does that mouth of yours ever take a break?” Del stopped to ask, at the corner of the bar, where a back alley would be, if the nearest building wasn’t miles and miles away.

Rose kept her arm around those shapely shoulders as she leaned back to look at him, balancing on her one good foot. “Does yours ever start?”

He rolled his eyes, and she smirked.

“Gotta have someone look at yer ankle.” Del had already decided, jerking his head around the corner. “Damn lucky someone I trust is in town.”

Their destination soon became clear—the parked an ambulance out back of the bar. Which, Rose had to admit, was slightly concerning.

It waited neatly in a designated spot, lights off, back doors open. Was this standard procedure for a typical college bar? Rose had to wonder. Or just the ones in the middle of nowhere? Or…just the ones that got too rowdy?

Dead Wood Ranch was remarkably injury free, but the few times ambulances had been called out from the county hospital, they had been mostly white and red vans.

This thing was all blue and gold.And Rose saw why as they came up to the back. “Private EMS” was printed nice and bold and diagonal across one side.

Her ankle wasn’t that bad off, was it? Course, Del wasn’t letting her put any weight on it. Had she actually told him her name?

All of these thoughts bounced around the redhead’s brain until she saw who was sitting between the open ambulance doors. Her suspicions cooled like the rapidly dropping temperatures now that the sun had set the moment Mr. Charming and in Charge looked their way.

“Del?” He lifted his head, and even the harsh light in the back of the vehicle couldn’t do a damn thing to make him look a mite less handsome. And they were going to be the death of her with these accents.“Y’alright?”

His eyes fell on her, and they were this gorgeous dark color, like rich black coffee and just as warm and inviting. Making her wish she was wearing something more worthy of that gaze—or at least something slightly less translucent from a recent beer drenching.

“Are you alright, ma’am?”

Neither Rose nor Del had to answer the EMT, because when the younger man loosened his grip around her hips, the redhead stumbled. Her ankle gave a painful twinge before Del could compensate for her clumsiness and pull her back upright.

“Ah, dance floor-related ankle injury.” Sam deduced, pursing his lips with a tease of a serious tone.

Rose suddenly remembered she had lips and a mouth that had to do things to make words to other human beings.

Before she could get her tongue around a sound, Sam hopped off the end of the ambulance and patted the metal step thingy that jutted off of it.

Rose moved to make the hop up herself, like an independent gal should, but Sam and Del must be psychically linked or just that attuned to each other. Without a word exchanged, the younger gripped Rouse around the middle, lifting her easy but gentle into the back of the medical vehicle. While the older man cradled her leg and kept it straight.

“What’s your name sweetheart, can you tell me the date?”

He was already probing around her ankle with deft fingers, just in case the bone was broken.

“Rose Woods, it’s—well, it was my birthday,” she sighed, puffing out her lips so the hair that wasn’t sticking to her face was blown. She wasn’t having a great night… until two gorgeous men were putting their hands on her. Rose had to admit she was feeling a lot less pain.

Sam flipped his wrist over, looking at his watch. “Technically, it still is.” He offered a smile. “Happy birthday.”

Rose’s heart fluttered somewhere around her stomach when he smiled and said that voice. Though the young woman scowled that she had not outlasted Cinderella on the dance floor.

Her appreciation for the medic’s twang dimmed slightly with the next question he asked. “And how much have ya had to drink tonight, Ms. Woods?”

Rose snapped her lips shut, feeling thorny indignation bristling over her skin.

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