Cal didn’t know what he’d been expecting—someone good-looking or charismatic or oozing charm. But this chap left him thoroughly unimpressed. Evan had called him a golden boy, thanks to all that blond hair, no doubt. One of his rounded cheeks suffered an abrasion. Dirt smudged his canary-yellow biking shirt. He wasn’t horrific—women probably found him generically attractive.

Ryan’s glazed eyes widened when they landed on Monica. “Monnie,” he slurred. “Sorry they called you. I broke my leg.”

Monica approached him. “I warned you about this. It’s dangerous, riding at night.”

He gave her a loopy grin. “You were right.” He grasped her hand. “How’ve you been?”

“Don’t worry about me. What are we going to do with you?”

“We gave him a painkiller,” said the nurse, “but it’ll wear off in a couple of hours. The doctor will be in shortly, and I’ll grab some crutches.” Before she left, she pulled the curtain closed, giving them privacy.

“Do they know how long you’ll have to wear the cast?” Monica asked. Cal watched her face carefully. She seemed concerned but not panicked, as she’d been out in the desert.

“Six weeks. I have to take sponge baths. I don’t own a sponge.” Ryan finally noticed Cal, standing in the corner. “Hey, do I know you?”

“Ryan, this is Cal Hughes. He’s Trevor’s cousin.”

Cousin? That was his title, after what they’d done in the Mustang?

Ryan took in Monica’s sexy, tight dress. “Why are you wearing that?”

She crossed her arms. “Did they catch the guy who hit you?”

“Not sure.”

Cal grabbed one of the room’s two chairs and placed it behind Monica so she could sit. She nodded a thank-you.

“You don’t have to stay, Cal. I’ll make sure he gets home.”

“Doesn’t he have any mates he can call?” Cal whispered.

Monica shook her head. “They’re all married with little kids. His brother lives in Colorado, his parents are in Arizona. I’m it.”

Resigned, Cal sighed. “Then I’m in it with you.” He didn’t want to leave Monica stranded and alone. She might need something, and Cal wanted to be here with her—unusual for him. He didn’t like to be needed, but Monica elicited strange reactions in him.

Snagging a chair of his own, he sat next to her and removed the remote from the railing that framed Ryan’s bed. He turned the TV on, found a sports station, and settled in to watch an American football game while Ryan babbled.

“Remember when we went hiking in the mountains, Monnie?” Ryan asked. “Remember that Thai place we went to every Saturday night?”

“Every Saturday night?” Cal asked quietly. “How could you stand the excitement?”

Monica ignored him. She ignored Ryan too. In fact, she remained very quiet, withdrawn.

Finally, Ryan drifted off, and Cal leaned toward her, letting his thigh brush hers. “Are you cold? Want me to find a blanket?”

“No, thanks. I’m fine.”

Cal slid one finger over her bare arm. “You’ve got goose bumps.” Then his gaze lowered to her chest. “Your nipples could cut glass.”

“Shut it,” she hissed and scooted her chair farther away from him. “And you don’t have to stay.”

Grabbing the armrest, he jerked her chair back, close enough so their legs touched once again. “I’m not leaving. We can argue about it, which I quite enjoy, but it won’t matter.”

She sighed. “Fine. Don’t say anything about tonight.”

“I’d bring up our personal affairs? You think that, do you?”

She gazed at him then, and her eyes were troubled. “I don’t want to hurt him any more than I already have,” she whispered so softly he had to strain to hear.

Cal pushed the hair from her face. “You’re very tenderhearted, Monica Campbell. You try to act all tough, but in here”—he let his finger drift to her chest—“you’re very kind.”

She slapped at his hand. “Whatever.”

A moment later, the nurse brought in a pair of crutches, and the doctor followed.

Monica gently patted Ryan’s hand. “Hey, wake up.”

His eyes fluttered, and he smiled when he saw her. “Monnie.”

Cal rolled his eyes.

The doctor leaned against the wall and spoke to Monica. “We’ve called in a prescription. When he gets home, give him two pills. Make sure he doesn’t take them on an empty stomach. He can walk, but he may need help in the shower.”

Like bloody hell she’d help him in the shower.

The doctor shook Ryan’s hand, and the nurse left to round up a wheelchair. When she returned thirty minutes later, whatever drug they’d given Ryan was wearing off, and he started to whine. Like nails on a chalkboard.

“My knee is starting to hurt. And my head.” Ryan rubbed at his temples as the nurse helped him into the chair.

“Buck up, mate,” Cal said. “Could be worse.”

Monica shot him a glare. “Why don’t you go get the car?”

* * *

Monica looked into Cal’s intense green eyes before he turned and walked out of the room. Once she’d known Ryan was going to be all right, she hadn’t been able to think about anything but their tryst in the car. Cal’s big, work-rough hands on her body, his mouth on her skin. It excited her all over again. Which felt wrong. Especially with Ryan lying there, wounded and in pain.

But being in the desert with Cal—Monica hadn’t felt that exhilarated, that sexually charged in years. Ryan, for all of his sweetness and decency, had never taken her to the level of physical pleasure Cal had. She’d tried to love Ryan, tried to make him happy, but in the end, she’d only hurt him. Ryan really was perfect, but not for her. One steamy session with Cal had proven that.

True, she was following her old, destructive patterns, but Monica was in control this time. Still, a part of her wished that what she had with Cal could be something more substantial.

The thought brought her up short. That kind of thinking had gotten her in trouble in the past, hoping she could change a guy, turning a temporary fling into a real relationship. That was one trap she would never fall into again. Not with any man.

Monica walked next to Ryan as the nurse pushed him to the exit. She gave his shoulder a comforting pat.

Ryan slid a glance in her direction. His eyes were less glassy, his gaze more focused. “I forgot to have your name removed as my emergency person. That guy with you, he’s Trevor’s cousin? So he’s like family.”

Um, no. “Sort of, I guess.”

Cal had parked the Mustang near the door. He hopped from behind the wheel and jogged over to help Ryan climb into the car.

“In you go, mate. Watch your head.” Monica knew Cal didn’t like him. She could tell by the way he rolled his eyes whenever Ryan spoke. Even so, he patiently helped Ryan into the passenger seat.

Monica was starting to realize Cal was a stand-up guy. Not one she could depend on for the long haul, but still, good to know.

Cal made sure Ryan’s lap belt was buckled, then shut the door. He trotted to where Monica stood at the back of the car. “Ready?”

She paused, turning her head to stare at a couple walking past them. “Thanks for staying with me. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Do you know the best way to thank someone?” When she glanced back at him, he wore a sincere expression.

“Flowers?” she asked. “Chocolates? Starbucks gift card?”

“I was going to say a blow job, but if you agree to a second date tomorrow night, I’ll let it slide.”

She breathed out a little laugh. “You’re a piece of work, asking me out and talking about blow jobs with my ex sitting three feet away from us.”

“Much better than doing it in front of his face, which I know got a bit bungled this evening, but even so, let’s be honest, darling, he looks like a bit of a minger, doesn’t he?”

She crossed her arms. “Minger?”

“I don’t mean to be cruel, but he is rather tragic. You can do better. Unless you only dated him out of pity?”

Once again, Monica found herself wanting to laugh. “You’re ridiculous. There’s nothing wrong with the way he looks.”