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“I’ll walk you in,” she said, holding out her elbow.
“I appreciate it, but you should probably park your car first,” I pointed out.
“Oh!” She hurried around the front of her car.
She quickly parked on the other side of my truck and climbed out. I didn’t need her to walk me in, but I certainly wouldn’t mind it. She was cute as hell, and the spark I felt just looking at her burned bright and hot.
She stopped beside me, tucking her keys in her purse before holding her elbow out again.
My lips tugged into a smile. Stella was easily a foot shorter than me. “I appreciate that, but it’ll be lopsided. Why don’t you just walk beside me?”
Her curls swung with her vigorous nod. She insisted on staying at my side as I began to awkwardly hop along on the one crutch. I contemplated going without it altogether, but I really wasn’t supposed to put much weight on that knee yet.
“I know there was a crash landing and a couple of the firefighters were injured, but what happened to your knee?” she asked as we walked.
“I dislocated it. It was almost better, but then I dislocated it again.” I rolled my eyes. My own impatience had created that issue.
“I bet that hurt,” she commented.
“Ten-ten would not recommend,” I said dryly.
All things considered, it could’ve been much worse. When an engine went out, the pilot had executed a controlled crash landing. One of the wings hit some trees, and I dislocated my knee somehow. It’s one of those injuries that’s not horrible, but annoying as hell.
“How did you dislocate it the second time?” Stella peered up at me, her teeth catching the plump pink surface of her bottom lip. The sight of it jolted me with a hot sizzle.
She seemed oblivious to her effect on me. I ordered my hormones to stand down. With only one hand available, I couldn’t risk trying to adjust my jeans as I felt a subtle swelling against my zipper.
“I was letting my cat out on the porch and I tripped.”
“Oh,” Stella replied slowly.
My eyes focused on her lips forming the shape of that single word. She had freckled cheeks and big brown eyes. She was on the short side with enough curves that the buttons on her blouse were strained. She was wearing a skirt that fell to her knees and flared out with a little ruffle, paired with a button-down blouse and fitted leather boots. Her clothes hugged her close, delineating every curve. It was distracting as hell.
When we approached the doorway to the winery, she hurried ahead, her hips swinging with every step. She held the door open, smiling as she gestured me through. “I’m assuming you’re here for the engagement party too?”
“Sure am.”
I glanced around once we walked inside. So far, this place was only used for events. Fireweed Winery was well-known in Alaska. It was an international brewery and distributor now, and it had all started in Alaska. Griffin Cannon, a fellow firefighter, and my friend, had family who ran the corporation.
The location was beautiful. They’d renovated an old plane hangar. High beams crisscrossed the ceiling above. They’d kept the industrial look but softened it with color and wooden touches. The floor was stained to a deep mahogany shade. Brightly colored rugs were scattered about the space. There was a small circular bar in the center, along with a bar running the full length of one side.
The back wall had windows floor to ceiling, offering a beautiful view out over a nearby lake. There were tables scattered throughout the area. Stella herded me over to one, insisting on pulling out a chair for me.
Just as I was resting my bent crutch against the table, Griffin and Tish approached. Griffin’s eyes landed on the crutch. “What the hell happened?”
Before I could respond, Stella jumped in, “I didn’t see his crutches on the ground and I drove over them. This one’s in the best shape.” She grimaced, glancing down to me apologetically. “I really am sorry. I will buy you a new pair of crutches. I’d do it right now, but I don’t know where to get them.”
Tish smiled between us, her eyes twinkling. “Hudson looks okay.”
I gave a thumbs-up. “I am.”
“I thought your knee was better,” Tish added.
“He tripped when he let his cat out,” Griffin explained with a chuckle.
Tish snorted. “Really?”
“Yeah, I love my cat,” I countered.
