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He swiped to the next screen. Photos. Bingo.
Dog opened the app, and a People icon popped on the screen. He thumbed through pictures of folks in suits like she’d been wearing, smiling stale smiles, sometimes holding a plaque or certificate. Where the hell was this chick’s social life?
He scrolled farther, and there it was. A shot of her with a dude outside a restaurant. Sun was low in the sky but still light enough to get a decent photograph. She looked fucking fantastic in a curve-hugging, low-cut blue dress and more stiletto heels. The man was stick thin in a button down and khakis. What was a hot babe like Charley doing with someone like him?
Dude was all smiles, an arm around her waist. Dog felt an urge to punch a guy he’d never met until he noticed Charley’s expression. Her smile looked forced, almost tense.
If she had a boyfriend that would explain why she’d turned down his offer of a ride on his bike. She’d wanted to go, that much was clear.
Dog checked the date—May 15. Just a few weeks before. He reopened her calendar and scrolled backwards in time. Yep, May 15 had a dinner date at 7:30 with Wes at Carpe Diem. Moving his thumb slowly, he checked all the entries after that night. Nope. No Wes.
Hmmm.
Chapter Seven
Charley opened her eyes to a persistent beeping sound. Sun streamed in the window, highlighting the sterile harshness of the room. The familiar smell of antiseptic and latex reminded her of where she was. Mission Hospital in Asheville. After a terrifying night.
Charley hated hospitals. She’d spent too much time in them while her mother wasted away with cancer.
The wall clock revealed it was just after noon. She couldn’t believe she’d slept so late.
“Ms. Abbott?” A nurse with gray-streaked dark hair dressed in lavender scrubs peeked in the door before entering. “I need to check your vitals, and your young man is chompin’ at the bit to see you.”
Oh, no. Wes couldn’t be here. It would be just like him to tell them they were a couple even though she’d broken it off a month ago. How would he know she was here?
The man who’d changed her tire—Dog—pushed through the door. He appeared slightly disheveled and totally ridiculous carrying her Louboutin leopard skin purse away from his leather vest like the bag would contaminate him. He stopped short when he saw her in the hospital bed, his gaze jumping to the machines and the sticky diodes taped to her chest. Charley’s hand flew to the utilitarian medical gown she wore. Could she look any lovelier?
His gaze finally locked on hers, his expression soft. Charley marveled at the physical beauty of this man. The machine that monitored her heart rate with staccato beats and bright red numerals jumped to three digits, and she cringed at the rapid pace of the blips.
The nurse, whose nametag said Christina Lopez, stuck a thermometer in Charley’s mouth. “This sweet man spent the night in a chair in the waiting room. He wouldn’t leave until he could see you. Drove the night nurse crazy asking for updates.”
Charley’s jaw dropped at the nurse’s words. Once the testing had finished last night, a nurse had told her she’d gotten Charley’s name and insurance information from a man who had followed the ambulance to the hospital. She’d surmised it was Dog by her description—'hot guy in a biker vest’—but she assumed he’d gone home afterwards, having done way more than was his to do.
Dog shrugged, and the slightest pink colored his cheeks. He held out the purse. “Needed to give you this. Car’s locked in The Round’s parking lot.”
Nurse Lopez removed the thermometer and wrapped a blood pressure cuff around Charley’s arm. Charley took the bag with her other hand. “Thank you. I can’t believe you stayed all night.”
His expression looked tense when he spoke. “You collapsed in my arms. Couldn’t leave till I knew you were okay.”
“140 over 90,” Nurse Lopez said as she unwrapped the cuff. “Better than last night, but still not good.” She cracked a smile. “But seeing how your pulse has gone crazy, I suspect the company has something to do with it.”
Horrified at the nurse’s implication, Charley shot the nurse the stern look she reserved for employees when they said something inappropriate to a client. Nurse Lopez laughed and walked toward the door. “I’ll leave you two alone for a while. An orderly should bring your lunch soon. And Dr. Niles will be in later.”
Dr. Niles. The neurologist on staff at Mission. He’d examined Charley last night. Why did she need a neurologist?
The door snicked shut, and the only sound was a too rapidbeep, beep, beep. Charley pulled her bag onto her lap, and Dog dragged a chair beside the bed and broke the verbal silence.
“I went in your handbag.”
Charley searched her memory of her purse’s contents. Was there anything else embarrassing in her bag? Not that tampons and lube weren’t bad enough.
He sat in the chair, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, strong hands relaxed. His face was neutral, no teasing present in his expression. “Had to find your insurance card. Saw the cord, so I charged your phone. You might want to check it. It started going off just after eight this morning.”
She grabbed the phone and placed her thumb on the home button. The screen lept to life. Crap, seventeen unread messages.
Opening the text app, she scanned the contents. Her phone must have died earlier than she’d realized, perhaps right after she reached Edwards, because the times on the texts indicated some arrived then. The first was from her assistant, Jennifer.
Jennifer(8:36 pm): Mr. James called. Told him you were unavailable. He wanted to know when you would be. Told him tomorrow. He wasn’t happy.
