“‘Mr. Wild,’” Charlie repeated, easing back and crossing his arms. “See, I’m not sure I like that.”

  Dylan lowered her eyes pointedly. “You don’t?”

  God dammit. He didn’t need to look down to know he was sporting a semi. He decided to own it, like he owned most things about himself. Hey, it was natural. She’d said it herself. And better than sitting here dwelling on Andrew.

  “Would you like to take a moment to adjust?” she offered.

  “I’d like to take you out to dinner,” he offered instead, partly to distract himself, but mostly in hopes of seeing that other Dylan again—the fun, relaxed Dylan he’d met on the ranch.

  “I don’t think—” she started, but Charlie cut her off.

  “I mean a real dinner, someplace nice. Not that the Tin Horseshoe doesn’t have its charms, but how about something more metropolitan this weekend? Dallas. Fort Worth. Austin. You name the restaurant, and my name’ll get us in.”

  He liked the way her eyes flirted with looking at his package, and the way she had to master herself each time. He liked the way Dylan Rose did anything. He even liked the way she tapped her pen rapidly in his presence, like tiny machine gun fire she had no control over. She crossed and then recrossed her legs. Charlie edged his own legs open a bit wider.

  “You’ve been doing good,” she blurted. She clenched her eyes shut. “Well. You’ve been doing well. You’re steadier on your crutches, which tells me you’ve been practicing.”

  “So why don’t I get a gold star?” Charlie inquired.

  He didn’t know what it was about a gold star that broke the spell, but Dylan rose abruptly from behind her desk. She leaned forward, and Charlie’s eyes dropped immediately to her cleavage.

  “Charlie, if you’re doing everything I’ve told you to do with the expectation of earning a date, then as your doctor, I feel it’s my duty to tell you you’re shit out of luck!” Dylan snapped. She cut a quick glance toward the closed door, like she thought there might be listening ears on the other side.

  You need to get laid. He was smart enough not to speak that thought aloud. “I make my own luck,” he said. “And I don’t wait around for someone else’s rules to align with what I want.”

  “You need to start getting serious about this,” Dylan continued. “This is your career on the line. You know that. I need you to stay focused, and not because you’re hoping for a date. Because that’s not going to happen, and I don’t want you giving up when reality sinks in.”

  “Don’t tell me I don’t know how to push myself, Doc,” Charlie said coldly.

  “You certainly know how to push,” Dylan countered.

  “Yeah? Am I pushing your buttons right now?”

  Dylan’s face colored. She glanced down quickly, her thick lashes kissing her cheeks as if she could wish her blush away. So, she wasn’t as far out of his reach as she wanted herself to be.

  Now it was Charlie’s turn to glance over at the door. What were the chances of someone walking in on them in the next five, ten, fifteen minutes? How much could he get away with in that amount of time?

  He thought he could get away with just enough.

  “Charlie.” Dylan’s tone carried a warning. “We need to talk about the very real possibility that your—”

  “Charlie Wild! Charlie Wild!”

  Someone ran down the hallway shouting his name. Charlie was used to hearing his name chanted at top volume, but it felt out of place in Lockhart Bend. He looked at Dylan to confirm he hadn’t imagined it before reaching for his crutches and getting to his feet. They both poked their heads out into the hall.

  “Nicholas!” A red-faced nurse charged by, shouting after her charge. “Nicholas, I’ve told you, no running in the halls!”

  Charlie froze where he stood, a cold wave of panic drowning his desire. Nicholas tore straight past him, and for an instant, he saw Andrew. In that moment, he was five again, standing in a hallway just like this in his wet shorts, peering up at the doctors in their white coats. Dad had pulled him close. Mom had squeezed his hand. But Andrew—

  “Charlie Wiiiiild!” Nicholas looped back and ran toward him, ducking the nurse as she reached down to grab him. Charlie stepped out into the hallway, half-dazed, hands clammy, and waved to his tiny, overexcited friend.

  “Hey, buddy. I’m here.” His voice cracked on buddy, but he managed a smile. Nicholas grinned back at him and rushed to meet him.

  “I knew you’d be here,” he said. “They said you weren’t, but you are.”

  “Sure am.” Charlie leaned his crutches up against the wall and lowered himself gingerly to one knee. He knew a hug when he saw one coming, and he flung his arms wide just in time. Nicholas threw himself against Charlie’s chest. Charlie wrapped his arms around the little boy and boomed a laugh.

  “Whoa! Slow down, dude! What’s up?” he asked.

  “The games arrived!” Nicholas exclaimed excitedly. “Can I show you? Can I show you what they brought?”

  “What games?” Dylan stood back with the panting nurse, watching the scene unfold with an incredulous look on her face. “What who brought?”

  Nicholas gave an ecstatic giggle. He turned to look at Dylan, before glancing away shyly. “She’s pretty,” he whispered into Charlie’s ear.

  “Tell me about it,” Charlie said. He raised his eyes to Dylan and noted her exasperated smile.

  “Come see,” Nicholas said again. He grabbed Charlie’s enormous hand in his small one and yanked with all his might. Charlie rose slowly and grabbed his crutches. He followed Nicholas to the children’s wing, with the two women trailing behind them.

  At first, Charlie wasn’t a hundred percent certain that Nicholas had led him to the right place. He had only been by the children’s ward once before, and Lockhart Bend’s facility was fairly big despite the diminutive town that housed it; it was built to serve a 50-mile radius, the biggest hospital for several counties.

  Now, he barely recognized the ward. Boys and girls had gathered around the pile of boxes stacked in the hall, the electronics companies’ names emblazoned across the cardboard. A couple of boxes had been opened already, and nurses and patients were swapping game controllers back and forth between them. Charlie realized ordering the wireless systems had been a good idea. Many of the patients were hooked to oxygen tubes, IVs, and feeders, and additional cords would only have gotten in the way.

  Nicholas left Charlie and ran to join his friends, who were pulling a new Switch out of its box.

  “What…is all this?” Dylan gasped.

  “The TVs and game systems arrived early this morning,” the nurse said in wonder. “And so did a crew to install them, though they’ve only gotten one up and running so far.”

  Charlie turned, grinning, to gauge Dylan’s response to all this. Her mouth hung open, and she blinked so rapidly he couldn’t decide whether she was caught in a state of disbelief or disapproval. It was a cute look, in either case.

  “You like it? I purchased one for every room.” He gestured to where Nicholas sat with his buddies on a single bed, their identical bald heads all crowded over the instruction manual for the console. “Nicholas told me that out of everything he’s been through since he got diagnosed, he found boredom at the hospital to be the worst. I figured I’d bring a little entertainment into everyone’s lives. It’s what a guy like me is good for, right?”

  “This is wonderful.” Dylan’s eyes shimmered faintly, but she didn’t cry. She gazed at the tableau of laughing boys and girls. “I’ve never seen them so…You got one for every room? Are you serious?”

  “Just for this ward.”

  “For the entire ward?”

  Charlie shrugged. “For once, I wanted to do the responsible thing and hold back. Do a trial run. I figured you of all people would approve of my restraint.”

  “Imagine you. Responsible.” Dylan laughed out loud, but it wasn’t cruel or sarcastic. Her laughter was genuine, and the purity of the sound encouraged Charlie.

  “Admit it.” He leaned sideways to murmur in her ear. “You kind of want to kiss me right now.”

  “Oh, I definitely do.”

  Her whispered answer took him by surprise. He had teased her with the full expectation of having his efforts thrown back in his face. Now, his teasing seemed that much more weighted in hindsight.

  Because Dylan wasn’t teasing back.

  She wouldn’t look at him. Not right away. Once she had put some distance between herself and her words, her shoulders rose in a deep breath, and she tipped her head back. Their eyes met. Charlie found himself helplessly drawn in. He wanted to slide a hand across the fragile bones of her exposed neck from behind. He wanted to master the jut of that stubborn chin; he wanted to watch her eyes flutter shut as she gave over to the guidance of his hand. He was already looking for someplace to ditch his crutches by the time the lips he ached to kiss parted to speak.

  “How did you pay for this?” Her green eyes searched his. “Out of your own pocket?”

  “Er,” Charlie said. “About that…”

  Dylan’s expression darkened. “What did you do?”

  “I’ll tell you,” said Charlie. “But don’t get mad, okay?”

  Dylan opened her mouth to say something, but she never got the chance. A battalion of doctors and administrators burst through the doors in a flap of white coats and righteous indignation. Charlie shrugged helplessly.

  “It was for the kids.”

  “For the kids,” said a sour-faced man in a gray suit. “I think you two had better come with us.”

  5

  DYLAN

  “Dr. Rose, please tell the board that this is someone’s idea of a joke!”

  Dylan clenched her fists under the table to keep from flinching. Any show of weakness and these people would eat her alive. At least Charlie seemed ready to leap to her defense. He sat hunched forward on the edge of his seat, scowling across the table from beneath beetled brows.

  Dylan pushed down a swell of gratitude, not that she had a lot to thank Charlie for. This whole debacle was entirely his fault. When would it be his turn to stand up and get grilled?

  “Tell me they’re rentals,” the hospital head said. “At least tell me that much.”

  “Nope!” A bespectacled accountant put up his hand. “The flat screens and gaming systems were all purchased using the donation intended for Sports Medicine.”

  All eyes went to Dylan, sharp with accusation. Dylan ignored them and turned to scowl at Charlie. He was staring at the wall now, shoulders bunched tight. What was that about wanting to do the responsible thing, Charlie?

  She could murder him, she thought. Well, not in a fair fight, but she was ready to play dirty. A drop of arsenic in his protein powder, maybe, or…

  God, how often does the thought of murder cross my mind in this room? Dylan glanced around the circle of grim faces. Out loud, she said, “Pardon me, but I need a moment to process…”

  “There’s nothing more to process.” Charlie rose from his chair. His immediate command of the room was obvious, and Dylan’s relief mixed with embarrassment and pique. She had this, or she would have, given a minute to think. She didn’t need some white knight bailing her out.

  “Dr. Rose had nothing to do with this, and I think we all know that,” said Charlie. “And she won’t be the scapegoat for my mistakes. She didn’t whisper in my ear and convince me to do this, if that’s what you’re thinking. I spoke to the other Teamsters, and we decided as a team to reroute the donation to the kids.”

  “But why, Charlie?” Smitty demanded. “We already told the public that money was going to the Sports Medicine Department!”

  “So do both,” said Charlie. “It’s not like you can’t come up with the money. And if this is about optics, I made the right move. You think a bunch of smiling sick kids won’t play well? They play much better than showing that ward as it was, all blank gray walls and nothing to do, sick kids just lying there watching the clock.”

  “We’ll fundraise,” said Dylan, cutting him off. All eyes turned back toward her, and she soldiered on valiantly. “We’ll hold a fundraiser for the hospital—sooner rather than later, while Charlie’s stunt is still fresh. We’ll aim to take in the missing money for Sports Med, and any additional donations we get will go to the children’s ward. Charlie’s raised a good point—those walls could use some color.”

  “That’s not a bad plan,” said the hospital head. “I’ll get our event planners working on it immediately. Expect our communications and PR staff to be in touch with your team in the next few hours, Mr. Smith. I want to get out ahead of this and spin it to our best advantage. So long as Mr. Wild agrees to make a personal appearance and be our main spokesperson on this, I don’t see how we can’t split resources and all come away happy.”

  The meeting wrapped up, and Dylan sagged in her seat. She’d had nothing to do with Charlie’s stunt, and still she’d gotten dirty looks as the suits filed out.

  “He’s your patient,” said her department head, and Dylan wanted to scream. Charlie being her patient didn’t make her his mom. What he did on his own time was—

  “You pissed at me?” Charlie asked her as the room emptied out. Dylan tried to duck past him so she could lock herself in her office, but he snagged her arm before she could make it to the door.

  “I’m not pissed,” she lied, but whether or not she was angry at him wasn’t the point right now. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, Charlie was gazing down at her in amusement. “Charlie,” she began again, “I agree with the hospital head. You did this all wrong, but this can be a good thing. Not just for Lockhart Bend General and our pediatric patients, but for you. Have you ever thought about devoting your time to more projects like this?”

  “I guess you’re right. It might help with my reputation.”

  “Not just that,” said Dylan. “I meant, you seemed happy. You were grinning bigger than those kids were, watching them play. And they love you. You’re great with them. What do you think?”

  Charlie scratched his chin. “It felt good,” he said. “I mean, I never got it before, why some of the guys on my team do so much fundraising. I thought it was a rep thing, or to get endorsements. But after today…Yeah, I might make the time. Could fill up my off-season, give me something to do.”

  Dylan shook her head and turned him to face her. “No…I mean, that’s great. I’m glad you’re inspired. But that’s not what I meant.”

  Charlie’s brow furrowed. “It wasn’t?”

  “As your doctor…” Dylan bit her lip, unsure how to go on. What she wanted to say next could be hard to hear. “As your friend…I think it’s important you start considering your next step, not just for the off-season, but long-term.”

  “What do you mean?” Charlie asked.

  “Exactly what I said.” Dylan frowned. He wasn’t making this easy. “I’ve seen plenty of career-ending injuries, and not all of them are obvious at the start. In fact, it’s the ones that aren’t obvious that are often the hardest on people, because they expect to be back on the field again in no time. When that doesn’t happen…” She shook her head. She’d never enjoyed giving this talk, and it was harder than usual giving it to Charlie.

  “It’s important that you have other pursuits off the field, is all I’m saying. Whether your career ends today or tomorrow or five years from now, you need to have something to look forward to.”

  Charlie stood leaning hard on one crutch, like all the get-up-and-go had drained out of him. Dylan studied him, wishing she could read his face better. His usual smile had deflated, but she wasn’t sure what he was feeling, other than tired.

  “You see what I’m saying now?” she went on. “Right now, your life revolves around football. If—when—your football career ends, I don’t want your emotional life to end with it. I’m your doctor, Charlie, and that means I concern myself with all aspects of your health. I’m saying that I think you’d be a really great ambassador to children like Nicholas.”

  Charlie stood frozen, staring at the table. As the silent seconds ticked past, Dylan found herself wanting to reach up and rap her knuckles on his forehead to check that he was home. Had anything she said gotten through to him?

  “Right,” he said, finally. “Emotional life. Got it. If you don’t mind, I’d like to get back to football now, Doc.”

  Evidently not.

  “Come on.” Charlie swung around on his crutches and started toward the gym. “Sit in on my PT, and you’ll see how hard I’m working. Let me prove to you how ready I am to get back out there on the field.”

  “You don’t have to prove anything to me,” she protested as they entered the rehab facility. “Unless you want to start proving that you’re going to follow my advice.”

  “Aren’t these proof of that?” He shook his crutches at her, then leaned them up against the wall. Whatever he wanted her to see, it evidently required him to be shirtless. Charlie shucked his jacket—no easy feat considering it was already tight across his massive shoulders—and pulled his T-shirt up over his head. He pulled an elastic band off his wrist and used it to secure his hair, then he made his way out to the exercise mat.

  “Shouldn’t you wait for your therapist?”

  “Nah, just warming up.” Charlie dropped easily into a set of push-ups. Dylan seated herself on a nearby bench to watch. She crossed one leg over the other and tried to arrange herself into a position that best conveyed her disapproval.

  “Come on!” Charlie lifted one arm off the mat to gesture her over. She just chuckled and rolled her eyes in response.

  “Mr. Wild, I’m not going to sit on your back.” Did he really think he was the first to make the offer?

  “Only on my front?” Charlie asked innocently, just as his therapist made his appearance. Dylan turned away scowling, suppressing a flush. The physiotherapist settled his hands on his hips.