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“He’ll be fine. He does this shit all the time, and that’s what roll cages are for,” Liam says, like that’s reassuring. This man is not wearing a seatbelt, and I saw what he did with his truck earlier. This man has a death wish. I do not trust a word that comes out of his mouth.
“Ohshiiiiiiiit!” I hear hollered in front of me, and my gaze is wrenched forward. I watch in alarm as Luke’s truck tilts back and somersaults down the hill. Everything seems to move in slow motion as it bounces straight toward a gulley, and all I can hear is the cacophony of crushed metal blending with whoops from Liam beside me. When his truck finally comes to a stop on its side, everything just fades to white noise in my head.
Because Luke just rolled down a fucking hill in a rickety truck that he basically glued together.
My heart stops beating in my chest as I race toward where the crumpled truck lies. Oh my god, he cannot be hurt. Not when I just got him back. I scramble through some mud to get to him, water soaking the legs of my pants, and when I reach the driver’s side door, a low chuckle hits my ears.
Luke emerges from the window, a long cut on his cheek.
“That was fucking awesome,” he says with a smile.
My lips turn down in a scowl as Liam jogs over and fist bumps Luke, like this is just another ordinary day. Like he didn’t just almostdie.
“Luke van Beek,” I snap. “What in the hell were you thinking?” I ask, moving toward him and sliding my hands over his body. “You could have been seriously hurt.”
“Nah, Doc. I’m fine.”
“He’s fine,” Liam says, and I shoot him a withering glare.
“Liam, mind your own business,” I say, and Liam’s eyebrows fly right off his forehead. Good riddance.
“We need to patch you up,” I say, turning back to Luke and pulling his head down a little lower so I can get a good look at the gash. It doesn’t need stitches, but he may have a scar.
“I’m fine.”
“Yes, you will be fine,” I say and then lean forward and add on a whisper, “But your ass won’t be when I’m through with you.”
He shifts on his feet.
“Promise?” he asks.
“Yes.”
He turns to his brother and smirks. “Eli’s gonna wreck my ass when we get back.”
Liam sticks his fingers in his ears, muttering under his breath, as my cheeks heat to epic proportions.
“Do not tell people our business, Luke.”
He rubs at his neck, looking sheepish. Blood trickles down his cheek as he shrugs, “Yeah, you’re right, shouldn’t have said that. Just got excited. Maybe my brain is a little scrambled from all that.”
My fingers fly up to his eyes, and I peer into them. They look fine. I doubt he has a concussion, but Jesus, this man is going to be the death of me.
“Didn’t hit my head or nothing, Eli. Don’t stress. Don’t stress,” he says. “Just a little disoriented.”
I’m placated as I walk us back over to Liam’s truck and pull out a first aid kit from the glovebox. I bandage Luke up right where he’s standing, and twenty minutes later, I watch in dismay as Luke and Liam work to put Luke’s truck back onto all four wheels.
When they finally manage it, I eye the crumpled hunk of metal and arch an eyebrow.
“Gonna get in?” Luke asks me, and I sigh.
“I’d rather walk back,” I mutter. “The passenger side is completely caved in.”
“You could ride in my lap,” Luke says, and I do not entertain that. I absolutely do not. I will not ride in someone’s lap like a child.
But I still plant my ass right on his thighs the rest of the way home, even steer the rickety thing a little.
I have more fun than I care to admit.
