Page 58 of Driving Beats

She has a point.

Our conversation is interrupted when the salesclerk returns. “I’m so sorry. We were under the impression our photographer could do it today, but it seems he has a previous appointment. Would you mind terribly coming back tomorrow for the photoshoot?”

I offer the woman a smile. “No worries. Of course I can return.” I turn to Nese. “We still have to buy a few more things for my wardrobe anyway.”

“That’s true,” Nese responds. “I want to get you a couple of belts, a watch, as well as some more shirts and pants. You’re good in the jeans, sweats, and shoe departments.”

“You heard the boss. I’ll be back tomorrow.” We wave at the clerk and take the exit.

I’m in a much better frame of mind upon leaving the store than when I entered. It feels as if Nese and I reached some sort of truce. “Let’s call it a day, alright? Maybe we could do something fun tonight instead of shopping or going out to eat.”

“Something fun?” She stops in the middle of the sidewalk. “What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps we could check out the planetarium? I heard they had a new show featuring the music of Ozzy Martinez.” I’d love to see it.

“Snore-fest,” she pronounces.

I rear back. “It’s not. Ozzy is one of the hottest musicians on the Latin charts.”

She yawns, waving her hand in front of her mouth. “By fun, I thought you were going to suggest we go out clubbing, not pay for a nap.”

This is the difference between us. She’s in the club stage, while I do that every damn night on tour and want a change of pace.

“You know what? Forget it.” I hit the key fob for my car. “Why don’t you go out clubbing tonight. I haven’t been able to start my new book yet.”

“Sounds good to me.”

She marches over to her side of the SUV, and I don’t bother trying to help her. Her door opens as I climb into my seat.

“Ah!”

I swivel in time to see her land, hard, on the ground, wincing. Shit. “Are you okay?” I race around the front of the Range Rover. She’s leaning heavily on the door, her face etched in pain. “What happened?”

“I misjudged the step up,” she pants. “Because it was wet”—she explains—“my foot slipped off the edge.” She’s now breathing directly into the seat. “Damn expensive SUV should come with a ladder, for fuck’s sake.”

I stare at my hands, uncertain what to do. Man up, Coop! I place one hand on her back and rub. “Let me help you into the Rover.”

She stiffens. “I can do it.”

“You’re obviously in pain. Let me help you.”

We remain in a standoff until she places her injured foot on the ledge of the SUV and pushes off with her good one, ending in the passenger side. “Told you.”

She’d be convincing but for the fact her body is contorted in pain. I’m not going to ask her how much it took out of her pride to climb into the Range Rover. Instead, I let her get situated.

After her seatbelt is clicked, I ask, “All clear?” Not going to add insult to injury by closing the door on her fingers.

In a reedy voice, she replies, “Yup.”

With her door closed, I walk behind the vehicle and collect my thoughts. She’s going to need ice and to elevate it. Luckily, I have all the paraphernalia at the house to treat her injury. I get into the SUV. “Let’s tend to your ankle at home.”

It’s a testament to how much pain she’s in that she doesn’t even fight me. In fact, Nese is quiet the entire ride home. I decide to park inside the garage because it has direct access to the kitchen—and the ice pack.

When we stop, she doesn’t make a move to exit the vehicle. I turn my head to her. “Please let me help you out of the Rover?”

She sighs. “Thanks.”

She must be in a lot of pain to agree so quickly, which punches me in the gut. I stride over and pick her up, her hands encircling my neck. Her cotton candy scent clings to me long after I should’ve stopped noticing it.