Page 13 of Falling for a Grumpy Hero

Taylor blinked back surprise, as if he was having a hard time believing that I had said so many words all at once, but then he grinned and gave a little shrug. “Ah, it’s nothing you probably don’t know about already, but she got accepted to the art institute here after Addy mentioned it was such a good school. She’s always been the type to follow her heart, and after the breakup, her heart led her here.”

My interest was piqued when he mentioned a breakup, but before I could ask—not that I knew why I even wanted to pump him for more information—his phone chimed. He pulled it out of his pocket and checked it, shooting me an apologetic smile when he lifted his gaze back to mine.

“I have to head out, but it was good talking to you, brother.” He paused for a beat. “Remember what I said about sharing. I know it feels like you’re going against the grain at first, but once you start, it gets easier and, uh, it really does help. I think you’ll be surprised.”

Without another word, he clapped me on the shoulder again and turned to leave, almost immediately falling into a new conversation with a guy who was also on his way out. Their laughter drifted over to me and I squinted at their backs for a moment, really not understanding how they were both so happy. Carefree.

All I knew right now was that I was probably the most poorly adjusted guy in our group and I’d been back stateside for a decade. Some of these guys were much younger and had returned much more recently, but for the most part, they seemed to be doing okay.

I shook my head and decided against the coffee refill when Rook nudged my leg with his nose. Glancing down at him, I nodded and started toward the door. “Yeah, buddy. I hear ya. Let’s get out of here.”

Taylor was climbing into his truck when I reached the parking lot, the faint sounds of a female voice coming from his speakers drifting over to me. That has to be Addy. The girlfriend.

I was really tempted to head over there and ask him if I could talk to her. She probably had all the information I could ever want about Lila, but that was insane. The girl had been in my head ever since our meeting at Heritage House—and that had been a week ago.

I needed to stop thinking about her so much, not go digging for information that would give me even more to think about. Crossing the dimly lit parking lot as the sun set, I opened the back door of my truck for Rook and he jumped in, immediately spreading his big body out across the entire seat and getting comfortable.

“Yeah, okay. I’m just your chauffeur, I know.” I chuckled to myself and climbed in behind the wheel, backing out of my parking spot and pointing the truck in the direction of home.

As I drove, however, my assistant drifted back into my mind and I groaned, but she really had made an impression with the Heritage House thing. I couldn’t deny that.

Rook finally sat up behind me, watching the street with his head resting in front of the closed window. I’d open it for him once we got to our neighborhood, but for now, he would just have to deal with it.

I rolled to a stop at a traffic light and Rook suddenly started barking frantically. Instantly on alert, I looked around just in time to see a woman starting across the crosswalk on her bicycle, but there was a car racing toward her, running the red light.

Slamming my fist down on the horn, I watched with ice forming in my veins. He swerved and missed her—narrowly—but just kept speeding off, oblivious to what was happening behind him. The woman tipped over, spilling the contents of her basket all over the intersection and Rook was still going wild.

“Good boy,” I murmured to him, as grateful as always that he’d been so well trained. He might be as grumpy and pessimistic as I was, but he sure knew how to spot danger.

Immediately pulling over to the side of the road, I jumped out to help the woman. She was a sitting duck in the middle of a busy intersection as darkness fell.

Rook followed me out with a low growl, both of us jogging over to the scene. As the woman finally looked up, I realized that it was Lila. God, why can’t I get away from her? How is she everywhere all of a sudden?

She was at the office, in my head, and now, I was even seeing her on my way home from a damn meeting. “Lila? Are you okay?”

She blinked those cornflower blue eyes at me a few times, her lids moving slowly for the first few seconds before she nodded. “I think so. Where did you come from?”

I tipped my head toward the truck. “Traffic. Come on. Let’s go. You’re going to get run over. What the hell were you thinking, riding out in front of that car?”

She frowned and I shook my head but bent over to help her gather some paperwork that had spilled from her binder. As I shuffled them into a bundle, I realized they were sketches—and pretty impressive ones at that.

“Are you seriously trying to blame me for this?” she asked, sounding dumbfounded. “The light was red for that guy, Ford. He’s the one in the wrong.”

“Yeah, but you need to be more aware of your surroundings,” I said gruffly, turning to offer her my hand after I’d collected everything.

While I’d been doing that, she’d sat up and I spotted blood on her knee. Road rash. Crap.

“Come on,” I said. “You’re coming with me.”

She glanced at the injury as if she hadn’t even noticed it before. “I’m fine. Really. It’s just a scrape.”

“It could have debris in it.” I offered her my hand and tried to ignore the fact that I felt heat in my chest as she placed her palm against mine. “You’ll need to clean it properly when you get home or it might get infected.”

I carefully pulled her up but let go of her as soon as she was on her feet. I took a step back, aware of all the honking now happening around us. Cars were taking turns avoiding the scene as they drove around us and her bicycle, but it was getting darker by the second. All it would take was one distracted driver to turn this minor incident into something major.

After tucking her binder under one arm, I bent over again and grabbed the bike, picking it up and carrying it to my truck. I didn’t look back as I called to her over my shoulder. “Just get in, Lila.”

“No, I’m fine. Really. If you’ll give me back my bike, I can get home. I’m not far from here.” I ignored her and set the bicycle on the bed of the truck, turning to tell her—once again—to get in, when she suddenly squealed.