Last Second Chance

Chapter Six

“The son of a bitch grabbed her, Sid.” Van paced in his overcrowded room. “What was I supposed to do? Just sit there while he assaulted her?”

“Lower your voice,” his manager commanded. “I get it. I saw. Not that it doesn’t warm my cold, dead heart to see you suddenly turning into some random woman’s knight in shining armor, but you picked a damn fine time to do it. You get kicked out of here Van, and that’s it. No deal. No Epitaph. No band. No me.”

“Yeah, I get it,” he grumbled, dropping heavily onto the couch by his bed. “Just couldn’t find much cause to care at that particular moment.” Because Sid was wrong. She wasn’t some random woman. And apparently he wasn’t the only one who’d noticed. Dr. Aggressive Ass had come very close to getting a special lesson on how to keep his hands to himself. Van had just finished his very first therapy session. It hadn’t gone well and he wasn’t in the mood to see some white coat dickhead pawing the woman he hadn’t been able to get out of his head.

Sid left him alone to stew in his residual anger. If this were real life, instead of this messed-up parallel rehab universe where he actually cared about someone other than himself, he’d get high about now. His body felt weak, drained. The darkness threatened to surface and he craved that feeling of power. The rush from his confrontation in the Atrium was fading, lowering him quickly into the viper pit of hell that was solitude.

Lying down on the couch and throwing his arms over his eyes, he pictured her. Her bright green eyes wide with panic when that asshole grabbed her. The heart-gripping mixture of shock and gratitude that filled them when he stepped in. The fierce growl of her sexy little voice when she snapped at the nurses, who’d been eying him since he’d walked in.

He hadn’t paid much attention to that last part, or he thought he hadn’t. But her voice was clear in his memory. She was jealous.

The realization made his cock punch against his zipper. Fuck, she was so damn beautiful. She’d been wearing a pale pink button-up shirt and a gray skirt that was long enough to be professional but tight enough to have every guy in the room staring at her ass. Him included. Hell, him first and foremost.

He groaned out loud as the image of her naked body sliding over him invaded his mind. She was not the kind of woman he could have. Not the kind of woman who would want anything to do with someone like him. But a man could dream.

And dream he did.

When he finally opened his eyes, the light coming through the blinds was different.

Sun must be setting. Sunset was fast become his least favorite time of day. It meant the darkness was coming. The quiet that allowed his demons to be heard loud and clear.

“Mr. Ransom?” a soft female voice called from the doorway, jerking him completely awake.

His heart slammed into his throat. Was it her? He stood eagerly only to find a petite blonde in black scrubs lingering in his doorway. Clearing his throat, he ran a hand through his hair.

No. Of course it wasn’t. He needed to pull his shit together.

He forced a smile at the blonde. “I used to be,” he said as she closed the door and walked the rest of the way into the room.

She was pretty enough, just no Stella Jo Chandler. Who’d grown up on a horse ranch. Who could probably ride him six ways to Sunday. A groan was building in his chest. His dick was still hard. Fantastic.

Thoughts of Stella made his mouth go dry. He licked his lips and tried to get rid of blondie. “Yeah, um, if this is about insurance or something, my business manager handled that with—”

“Oh. No, Mr. Ransom. This isn’t about insurance.” She smiled seductively as she came around the bed to face him. “My shift just ended, so I wanted to come by and see if you needed anything.”

Ah. He caught her meaning. Anything. Well, this was going to be awkward. Did he even know how to turn a woman down? He’d never had a reason to before. Well, except when he was with Nessa, but she did her thing and he did his. So this would be a first.

“Yeah. Thanks for thinking of me. But I’m all set.”

She kept coming until she was within touching distance. “Looks like there’s at least one thing I could help you with.” Dark eyes pressed into his as she reached out and stroked his dick over his jeans.

Bold little minx, this one.

Her nails scraped the denim and the noise irritated him. She lowered to kneeling and he ached all over, like a bucket of ice water had been thrown on him. And his erection. It would be so much easier if he were high. He could let blondie suck him off and kick her out when he was finished. But he was sober and her dark roots were showing. Her skin was a tanning spray shade of orange. Between that and the nails, she was nothing but artificial. And he was craving real.

Skin a warm shade of golden caramel, natural sun-kissed chestnut hair that fell in waves over delicate shoulders.

“Look, I appreciate—”

His protest was cut off by the sound of the door opening. A nurse giving him a blowjob would probably be an excellent way to get kicked out. Even though he was still zipped up, he knew how it looked.

The green eyes that stared at him from the doorway were exactly the ones he wanted to see—any time other than right that second. Every muscle in his body clenched. The bed blocked her view of his unwelcome visitor. He desperately wanted to kick the girl under it. Or out the window. Whichever.

“Hey, sorry to bother you,” her soft voice purred. “I just wanted to say thank you for earlier. But um, I’ve been briefed on your situation, so maybe in the future you shouldn’t—”

Before Van could stop her, the girl beneath him stood up and glared at Stella. “Yeah, hon, we’re kinda busy here if you don’t mind.”

Her perfect mouth dropped into an O of surprise. Van wanted to hurdle the bed and grab her so he could explain. Hurt filled her eyes. It made him feel good in a sick way and disgusted with himself at the same time. She dropped something that smacked against the floor but didn’t bend down to get it.

“Oh God. Sorry. Carry on,” she said sharply as she turned to leave.

“Stella,” he called out after her, shoving his way past the blonde so he could get around the bed. Those damn nails clawed into his chest as she reached out and grabbed at him.

Stopping to glare at her, he grabbed her wrists and held them tight. “Get the fuck out of my room. And if you ever come back in here for any reason, I will have your ass fired before you hit the door.”

The hurt that filled her eyes when he released her didn’t affect him at all. He practically sprinted out of the room, stopping only to pick up the folder Stella had dropped. But the hallway was empty. No sign of her anywhere.

He knew she’d probably just gotten off work and would most likely head down to her house. Before he could think rationally, his body propelled him in the direction as if he were being pulled.

After arguing with some pain in the ass at the door, he scribbled his name on the sign-out sheet and barreled past the pool toward the staff residences. He caught sight of her just as she was entering her place.

Before he even realized what was happening, he was running. He hadn’t run in years. Not since he was on the track team in high school. Slowing as he neared her door so he wouldn’t be panting like a psycho, he gripped the folder he planned to return to her.

He had no idea what he was going to say. But he had to explain. He couldn’t leave her thinking he would just let some slut blow him like that.

Well, a week ago he would’ve. If he was on something. Which he mostly likely would’ve been. But now, after the way she’d looked at him, he couldn’t go back to that. Couldn’t settle for the cheap substitute when he’d caught a glimpse of the real thing. Damn, he wanted a taste of the real thing, too. Badly. And despite all of his flaws and vices—and there were a lot them—the one thing he was really good at was getting what he wanted.

And what he wanted was her.