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Chapter Twenty
Kaylee fought through the pain as she struggled to regain consciousness. She could feel herself being lifted from the ground and carried along the path of the pasture.
“Luke?” she murmured.
“I’ve got you, Kaylee. I’m going to get you some help.” But it wasn’t Luke’s voice. And it wasn’t Luke’s arms or chest she was being held against. The man carrying her was bigger than Luke—muchbigger.
“Bear?” she asked before slipping out of consciousness again.
She woke up again a few minutes later as Bear gently sat her in the truck and carefully pulled the seatbelt across her lap to buckle her in.
She didn’t know why he bothered. She was already hurt. That thought struck her as funny, and she wanted to tell Bear the joke, but her head hurt too much.
“Stay right here,” he instructed. “And keep this on your head.” He lifted her hand to the wad of fabric pressed against her forehead. “It will help stop the bleeding.”
“Am I bleeding?” She started to pull the wad away, but he pressed her hand back.
“I told you to keep it there,” he bellowed.
“Okayyy,” she answered, slumping back against the seat, too tired to argue. “Bossy-pants,” she muttered as her eyes fluttered closed.
“I will berightback,” he assured her, his voice a little softer. “That horse who dumped you off already ran back to the barn, but I’ve got to make sure she’s secured in a stall or the corral then I’m taking you to the hospital.”
He returned a few minutes later and slid into the front seat of the truck. “You okay?” he asked as he started the engine.
“I’m good.” She opened her eyes and noticed that one of the sleeves of his flannel shirt was missing and looked like it had been ripped off. “What happened to your shirt?”
“You needed it more than I did.” He nodded to the wad of fabric he’d instructed her to hold to her head.
She pulled it away for a second, noting the similarity of the material that hadn’t been soaked with dark red blood. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. It’s an old shirt anyway. My wife had been pestering me to put it in the rag bin for years.” He put the truck in gear then held out his hand to steady her. “Hold on now. Here we go.”
She took inventory of her injuries as he drove. Beyond the cut on her head, which she assumed was the culprit of the wooziness she was feeling, she had road rash type abrasions on her elbows and lower arms and a shallow cut along the side of her shoulder. More blood soaked through a rip in the thigh of her jeans. Her leg was sore, but the cut she could see didn’t seem to be as deep as the one on her head must have been. There was a heck of a lot less blood, at least. She could feel the stickiness of it covering her fingers holding the fabric to her head.
After surveying her injuries, she noticed a small blue and gold gift bag sitting on the seat, the words, “Congratulations on your Graduation” written on the side.
“Were you on your way to a graduation?” she asked, trying to think of what kind of class would be graduating in the middle of the summer. But the effort made the pain in her head worse.
He frowned as he glanced her way then noted the gift bag in the seat. “That’s a gift for you.”
“For me? Why? Did I graduate?”
“No,” he grumbled. “If you must know, I was on my way to meet a lady-friend for coffee. I just stopped by to drop this off before you left. But there’s a good chance I’m gonna be late now.”
“I know I hit my head, but I’m really confused. I don’t even remember taking any classes.”
“There wasnograduation. I made you something and that was the only stupid bag I could find to put it in.”
“Aww. Youmademe something. Like a present? What is it? And since when do you have a lady-friend?”
“Don’t worry about all that now. We’re almost to the hospital.”
He pulled the truck up to the door, killed the engine, then raced around to open the door and helped her out.
“Wait, my present,” she said, reaching back into the truck. She pressed the bag to her chest.
“You sure you can walk?” he asked, sliding an arm around her waist.
