"Do we need an ambulance?" Stevie asked, pulling her cell phone out. Jacy shook her head. "Just an emergency room."
With utmost care, Risk lifted Jacy against his chest, then stood. He carried her across the baseball diamond to his Lotus. He settled her as comfortably as possible on the leather seat, but a soft moan escaped as her head dropped onto her chest. Her left wrist hung limply. Her right arm was wrapped over her rib cage, holding in the pain. Jacy was in a lot more pain than she let on.
"Risk, how will I get home?" Sherry Sherman's whine cut through the crowd that had gathered around his Lotus. Concern for Jacy was evident in all eyes.
Risk didn't have the time or inclination to deal with Sherry. Spotting Psycho amid the group, Risk hesitated, then motioned him forward. "See that Sherry has a ride."
Psycho took a visual tour of the woman's body, taking in jutting breasts and hips straining beneath a too-short sundress. A slow grin split his face. "Sure, pops."
Risk didn't need to hear more. Sherry liked edgy men, and Psycho always walked the edge. The power hitter would thrill and excite her, make Sherry feel eighteen once again.
Fifteen minutes later, Risk pulled into the Emergency Loop. He'd phoned ahead to request that Jacy be met at the entrance. Two nurses assisted her into a wheelchair and rolled her away to be x-rayed. The doctor's evaluation would follow.
Time ticked slowly. Too damn slowly. He sat patiently in the waiting room for twenty long minutes, counting every fish in the fifty-gallon aquarium. Flipping through several magazines. Catching headline news on CNN.
He could sit still no longer. On his feet, he pushed through the swinging doors. The smells of the antiseptic and illness assailed him. A hospital volunteer seated near the admitting desk requested he return to the waiting room. No way in hell.
"Richard Kincaid, this is a restricted area."
Frostproof was a small town. The use of given name was a clear-cut sign the person blocking his path had known him since he was in diapers. And she had. "Mrs. Decker," he acknowledged the RN with the gray hair, stern expression, and a metal bedpan in her hand. "I'm looking for Jacy Grayson."
"Family only beyond this point."
His jaw tightened. "Her parents live in Savannah. I'm as close as family."
"I can't allow you—"
Risk was beyond pleasantries. He was worried about Jacy. Needed to see her. Now. "Let me go in, Mrs. Decker. Even for a minute. Please."
"She's getting x-rays," The nurse explained. Drawing back a curtain, she pointed toward an empty cubicle. "There's a chair against the wall. Sit and be still."
He was too antsy to sit. So he paced the white tile floor. Paced until the transporter returned Jacy to her cubicle. She lay on a padded table in her hospital gown, a sheet covering her legs. She looked pale and in pain.
She forced a smile. "You here to play doctor?"
He crossed to her, took her hand, ran his thumb over her wrist. He could feel the slight kick in her pulse. He still affected her, even while she was laid low. "I'm here to apologize for hitting a fly ball to center field. I caused your fall."
"I tripped over my shoelaces."
"I'm stripping your high-tops of those damn laces."
She squeezed his hand. "I'm not very coordinated. If not the shoelaces, I would have tripped over a blade of grass."
"You're the MVP, babe, for catching the ball."
"No talent involved. The Softball found my mitt." She sucked in a breath, her expression grim. "Hurts to talk. My ribs feel like broken toothpicks."
"Cracked ribs and a broken ankle," the doctor said as he entered her cubicle, a stethoscope around his neck and several x-rays in hand. "Not much I can do for your ribs. Once the pain goes away, they'll heal on their own." He tapped her bare foot with his finger. "We'll put a cast on your ankle."
Jacy swallowed hard. "My coffee shop. My T-ball team. My—"
The doctor shook his head. "Bed rest." He looked to Risk. "You'll keep an eye on her."
Risk nodded. "She'll follow your orders. To the letter."
He caught Jacy's scowl, which said he was a traitor. Bed rest. How lucky could a man get? He would have her alone, in bed, where he could wait on her hand and foot. Show her how much she meant to him.
If all turned out well, he might even frame her shoelaces.
While Jacy had her ankle set, Risk stood close by. He signed autographs for the nurses and technicians. Even the doctor requested his signature across a prescription pad for his son.
When Nurse Decker tried to shoo him out so Jacy could dress, he ignored her and stuck by Jacy's side. He'd helped her out of her clothes dozens of times.
Seen her deliciously naked. Today he'd help her put them on.
It was slow going. She leaned on him, her soft body now stiff and sore from the cracked ribs. Bending and twisting was out of the question, so he pocketed her bra and panties. Which left her in the loose-fitting baseball jersey and floral Bermudas. Her plaster walking cast was hot pink.
Nurse Decker returned with a wheelchair and instructions for Jacy's medication. "Stay off your feet. Elevate your foot. Take the Lortab as prescribed. Early next week, call the doctor's office for a follow-up appointment in about six weeks."
"Will do," Risk answered for Jacy. Before they left the hospital, he insisted she take one of her pills to ease the pain.
The pill took effect quickly. Jacy grew exceptionally quiet on the ride to her house. She dozed off, only to waken with a start, gasping and clutching her ribs. Risk hurt for her. He'd broken his ribs as a kid. He was familiar with the acute ache that stole her breath.
Once home, he lifted her from the Lotus and carried her inside. "Put me down, I'm fine," Jacy said, her cheek pressed to his chest.
Fine, his ass. She was limp and tired and couldn't stand on her own two feet. He crossed the living room and entered her bedroom. He blinked against the colorful raspberry and turquoise walls decorated with tropical paintings. The waterbed was sheeted in raspberry satin.
"Taking me to bed, Kincaid?" Jacy's lips curved slightly as he propped her near the headboard. She swayed a bit, but kept her balance.
"Not taking, but tucking you into bed," he stated as he turned to her dresser and opened the top drawer. A wide, deep drawer displaying her collection of underwear, color-coordinated to match a sixty-four-count box of crayons.