She instantly recognized those green, green eyes; his
chiselled features; and a five o’clock shadow that seemed to
be a permanent fixture on his jaw. Ten years older, he was a
breathtaking version of the teenager she’d known. The
teenager she’d loved. The teenager who’d scored and bolted,
taking her heart along with him for the ride.
It wasn’t a dream at all, but her worst nightmare. And why
was a gun clipped to his belt?
She cleared her throat and found her voice. “You look like a
hundred-mile stretch of bad road, Rocket. What are you doing
here?”
He cracked a smile displaying white, even teeth. Moving to
the foot of the bed, the air around him hinted of sandalwood
and peppermint. “It’s nice to see you too, Billie. I see
you’re still styling your hair with a stun gun.”
Actually, her hair didn’t feel half bad when she ran her
fingers through it in a self-conscious gesture. Oh, sure, it
was long, wild, and curly, but at least it was
brushed—except for where a mountain of bandages was taped
behind her left ear. What is that?
“Not fair, Reece, like I’ve had time for the salon.” She
tried to hide her confusion by pulling herself higher in the
bed. Starbursts flashed behind her eyes. Her
vision tunnelled and her stomach heaved. “Whoa…”
“Be careful. There were complications—the bullet wound is
infected.”
Bullet wound?
She didn’t move, waited for the dizziness to subside while
she soaked up Reece’s words. The ache in her head and her
sense of helplessness said he was telling the truth.