Simple Twist of Fate: Fated, Book 3 Read online

  “Hey.”

  Morgan stopped short and lifted her head to find the very man filling her thoughts standing before her, dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt. It must be his day off, or maybe he’d just come off duty. “Hi.” Pleasure filled her at seeing him again, at hearing that deliciously sexy voice.

  He flicked his chin. “Back to get your staples removed?”

  Her hand automatically went to the spot where said staples were. The gash had been deeper on her skull so the doctor placed five staples just above her hairline and used a butterfly bandage on her forehead. She’d pulled it off yesterday, and the wound was healing nicely. “Yeah. My appointment’s in a few minutes.”

  “Does it still hurt?”

  “No, not at all.” The night it happened and the next day her head had throbbed mightily.

  “Good.” He smiled, and her knees wobbled. “Glad to hear it.”

  Oh, God. Was this it? A bit of not-so-stimulating conversation and then he’d just walk away from her? No way could she let him get away from her again. But she wasn’t brave enough to ask him out or anything. That had never been her style no matter how much of a strong front she’d put on for everyone. Really, she was a big ol’ weenie, especially when it came to men.

  Especially when it came to breathtakingly handsome and protective men.

  “I want to thank you for everything you did for me that night. You were awesome.” She meant what she said but also threw it out there to stall for time. To get him to linger with her just a few more seconds.

  “If they send you one of those survey letters in the mail, make sure and tell them that. The powers that be really do read those things.” He chuckled and sunk his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.

  Her gaze dropped to those pockets, the way the denim stretched across his thighs. She’d been too out of it that night to really check him out beyond the dazzling face, but he had a great body. Broad shoulders and chest, narrow hips, strong thighs…

  Her cheeks grew hot, and she jerked her gaze back up to his, noticing his lips were curved into a slight smirk. As if he knew exactly what she was thinking. “I’ll do so. Thanks again…”

  “Evan.” He thrust his hand out, and she grabbed it, her entire body tingling at the contact. “I don’t think I ever told you my name.”

  Evan. Better than Earl or Eminem that was for sure. “No, you didn’t. You were a little too busy taking care of me. I’m Morgan.”

  “I know.” He shook her hand, held on to it a bit too long. “I remember.”

  He remembered her name. That gave her a little thrill. “Well, I should go. Don’t want to be late for my appointment.”

  “It won’t take long.”

  “That’s what the doctor said. Though I’m worried how they’ll take out the staples.”

  “They have a little tool that just lifts them out.” He demonstrated with the flick of his hand. “It’s easy.”

  “Sounds like an actual staple remover.”

  He laughed. “Kind of.”

  “I probably could’ve had one of my coworkers do it for me.”

  “But then we wouldn’t have run into each other again.”

  “Oh.” Her belly fluttered at his words, the sincerity written all over his face. “That’s true.”

  “Listen.” He took a step closer and glanced about the parking lot before his gaze met hers. “I never do this. But I was wondering if you’d like to go out sometime. With me.”

  She smiled, resisting the urge to giggle. Like who else would he be suggesting she go out with? “I would like that.”

  “Great.”

  He smiled—that staggering, make her panties melt smile. Why wasn’t this man involved with someone? He was gorgeous, he had a good job and he was nice. Maybe he had some weird quirk? Maybe he was a total freak in the sheets?

  Morgan frowned. Would she want a freak in the sheets? Her past lovers had always been pretty standard. Nothing too outrageous, one had been particularly good with his tongue, the last guy particularly bad with…everything.

  “My work schedule is hectic, and I have the next couple of days off. I know this is kind of last minute and I swear you won’t hurt my feelings if you have plans already but are you doing anything tonight?”

  Her chest went tight. Oh, this was just getting better and better. “You won’t think I’m a complete loser if I tell you I have no plans?”

  “Not at all.” He slowly shook his head, his gaze never leaving hers. “I’d consider myself lucky.”

  “Oh.” He struck her so dumb she could hardly form words.

  His smile grew. “Maybe we could meet after you see the doctor?”

  “Uh…” This was happening way too fast. Not that she minded, but her head was spinning. It had been casual Friday at the office so she wore a pair of jeans and a white tank top with a thin black cardigan thrown over it. Her makeup had probably worn off and…

  She was making excuses. But she’d never been asked on a date like this before.

  “We can go somewhere for a drink, dinner?” He paused and she didn’t say anything. She couldn’t find her tongue. “Or just drinks?”

  “No, dinner sounds great. It’s just—” She blew out a breath, trying to calm the fluttering in her stomach. “I’ve never been asked on a date while headed to the doctor’s before.”

  His expression grew serious and worry filled her. If he backed out, she’d feel like a fool. “Like I said, I never do this. I’ve never asked a patient out, it’s not my style despite the reputation a few of my coworkers have cultivated. But I need to make a confession.”

  Sexy studly paramedics asking out their cute patients—who knew it was an epidemic? “What is it?”

  Evan moved closer, so close she could smell him. His scent was citrusy, clean and masculine and she inhaled as discreetly as she could, absorbing everything about him. His heat, his strength, his…

  Sigh.

  He was almost too good to be true.

  “I’ve thought about you a lot since that night,” he admitted, his voice low and a bit raspy. “And I’ve been kicking myself ever since, wishing I would’ve gotten your phone number or something.”

  “You could’ve looked up my records, I guess.”

  “That would’ve been stalkerish, don’t you think?” He arched a brow, an incredibly sexy move that took her breath away.

  Which wasn’t hard to do. He merely had to look at her and her lungs were starved for air.

  She laughed, trying to cover up the edgy sensation stealing over her. “Probably.”

  “Well, I’m not a stalker.” His expression turned somber. “But I feel incredibly lucky to have run into you here in the parking lot. Almost as if it was…fate.”

  Okay, he was beyond too good to be true. And he was talking just like her friends, all about fated meetings and meant to be. She didn’t even know this guy.

  But she wanted to know him. If she was being truthful, she really wanted to spend more time with him. Maybe kiss him. Feel those firm lips on hers, those big, strong hands sliding all over her body. His arms sliding around her waist and crushing her to him…

  “Do you believe in fate?” If he answered yes, she’d bolt. It was too freaky.

  He shook his head. “Not really.”

  She smiled. “Then we’ll get along just fine.”

  “I probably should’ve suggested somewhere different.” Evan glanced about the crowded bar and grill, wincing when a large group whooped and hollered at whatever just went down on the TV. It was a sports bar, ironically enough and a Lakers game was playing on the many TVs mounted on the walls.

  They were surrounded by fans dressed in purple and gold. Evan preferred watching football. Hell, he used to play it in high school. Basketball—he enjoyed the playoffs but didn’t much watch the regular season.

  And he wasn’t a Lakers fan. Making such a confession would probably get him drawn and quartered among this mob of fanatics.

  “No, this is great.” S
he smiled and sipped from her glass of beer, a bit of foam still sticking to her lip when she set the glass down. The urge to lean over and wipe it away with his thumb was overwhelming.

  Would she freak if he tried to lick it away with his tongue?

  Yeah, probably.

  “You have…” He pointed to his upper lip and she cocked her head in question. Carefully she dabbed her slender fingers to her lip and her cheeks flushed. With an embarrassed giggle she grabbed a napkin and wiped away the lingering foam.

  “I guess you can’t take me anywhere.” Her eyes sparkled and she reached for the plate of nachos that sat between them. Grabbing a loaded chip, she shoved it in her mouth, her eyes closing as she murmured an inarticulate sound of bliss. “So good.”

  That pleasurable sound went straight to his dick. Watching her eat, his head spun a little. When she laughed, his chest felt tight, like his heart might explode. He had it bad.

  And he never had it bad.

  He still couldn’t believe his luck when he saw her in the hospital parking lot. He’d approached her without thinking, not about to let her get away from him again. Not after he’d spent the last few days wandering around in a lust-induced fog, his thoughts constantly filled with images of her.

  She was like the one that got away, and he couldn’t remember ever feeling that sort of regret over a woman before. Hell, he’d even dreamed of her, the way she’d looked at him when he and Wes pulled her out of the ambulance and wheeled her into the hospital. The panic, the vulnerability in her gaze, as if she needed him.

  Normally, he steered clear of needy women. With his job keeping him so busy, he preferred someone independent, someone who could go on without him if he had to work a long stretch.

  This was why he didn’t have serious relationships. He wasn’t one to stick around. It was…hard, sticking around. With women, he liked it easy.

  What he was feeling at this particular moment didn’t seem easy. It was like a whirlwind, smacking him in the chest, hitting him everywhere. He’d been with her for approximately forty five minutes.

  He was already plotting how he could get her in his arms.

  In his bed.

  They sat on stools at a tall table located dead center in the bar. The noise was deafening, the TVs blaring, the crowd cheering and laughing and chattering nonstop. The waitresses ran to and fro, carrying pitchers of overflowing beer high above their heads. It was complete chaos.

  Morgan sat quietly amid the chaos, pretty and fresh, her dark hair pulled into a ponytail. She devoured chip after chip, washing it down with sips of beer. He liked that she hadn’t balked over beer and nachos. More than a few prissy dates of his past would’ve wrinkled their noses at such a suggestion.

  This woman seemed real.

  “How long have you been a paramedic?” She yelled the question to be heard over the din.

  “Six years.” He’d gone to college, thinking originally he wanted to be a cop but realized it wasn’t for him. He’d considered being a doctor, but the endless schooling and enormous cost had stopped him cold.

  “Do you like it?”

  “I love it. It’s hard work and even harder hours, but I wouldn’t want to do anything else.”

  “That’s so great. That you have such a passion.” He cocked a brow, and she continued. “When you say you love your job, it comes across in your expression, your body language. You were so attentive that night, so…efficient. You impressed me.”

  “Just doing my job.” Her words of praise filled him with pride. He knew he was decent at his job, but it was always nice to hear it from someone.

  Especially someone as pretty as Morgan…

  “Morgan? Is that you?”

  The male voice came from behind Evan, and he turned to find her loser date from the night she was hurt standing there, a beer mug clutched in his right hand. Clad in a Kobe Bryant jersey and jeans, his expression was incredulous when his gaze dropped to Evan.

  “Don. Hi.” Her voice was weak, and she shifted on her barstool. “What are you doing here?”

  “I think it’s pretty clear.” He waved his beer at the front of his jersey, then at the TV. “The question is what are you doing here? And with him?” He gestured at Evan. “Aren’t you the guy in the ambulance?”

  “Don…” Morgan started but Evan cut her off.

  “I am.” He stood, towering over Don the Lakers fan by at least four inches.

  Don’s eyes narrowed. “What did you do? Ask her out while we were on a date?”

  “You were the one who ditched her.”

  “She said I could ditch her.” Don’s voice had turned into a slight whine. “I didn’t want to miss the game. I paid good money for those tickets.”

  “Yeah, and you left a woman bleeding on the ground so you could watch your precious team lose.” Evan had seen the score when he caught a glimpse of the late night news. It had given him a surge of satisfaction knowing that this asshole had hurried to watch them get so viciously defeated.

  Don’s eyes narrowed, and Evan swore he heard a little squeak come from Morgan’s direction. “Right. And getting me out of there allowed you to poach on my date.”

  “I didn’t poach.”

  “Can’t even score a woman on your own so you gotta pick one up while she’s injured? That’s low, man.” Don whistled and shook his head.

  Evan’s hands tightened into fists. “At least I know how to treat a woman properly, unlike you.”

  “Dickhead,” Don muttered.

  “Asshole,” Evan tossed back.

  Don swung with his free hand without hesitation, never letting go of his beer mug. His arm went wild, over-swinging by inches and missing Evan’s face completely. Reaching out, Evan grabbed Don’s forearm, stopping him and the two men stared each other down.

  “I’m not about to fight in here,” Evan said through gritted teeth, releasing his grip on Don’s arm.

  “Pussy.” Don swung again, his fist making contact with Evan’s jaw and that was it.

  All hell broke loose.

  Chapter Three

  “No!” Morgan lunged toward the two men, trying to break up the fight. Evan shoved her behind him with one solid push, trying to get her out of harm’s way and she appreciated the gesture.

  But damn it, she needed to stop this. It was ridiculous, the two of them fighting. Or Don picking a fight. Over her.

  “Don, stop.” She shoved at him, but he was solid as a rock. And enraged. His expression was fierce, his eyes blazing with anger and he was swinging like crazy at Evan, who dodged his every punch with a calm efficiency that probably drove Don nuts.

  The bartender shouted from his perch behind the counter, demanding they stop or he’d call the cops. Evan backed off from Don, holding his hands in front of him in a peaceful gesture but Don would have none of it. Morgan ran in front of him, pressing her hands to his chest but he shoved her off, sending her toppling to the ground.

  “Ow.” She lay sprawled on the floor, turning just in time to see Evan sock Don in the mouth so hard blood splattered and Don fell to the ground not far from her.

  “Don’t ever put your hands on her again.” Evan looked like a conquering warrior as he stood over Don, who lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, his hand covering his swelling mouth.

  She scrambled to sit up, wincing since she landed too hard on her butt. Don had used every bit of his strength to push her and a dull throb started in her shoulder where his hand had made contact.

  “Morgan.” Evan knelt beside her, his dark blue eyes full of concern. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, shocked when the crowd swarmed around them as if nothing happened. A waitress came over with a white rag, picking up the mug that had fallen when Don went down and swiping at the floor to absorb the spilled beer.

  Otherwise, it was as if nothing happened.

  Evan drew her up to her feet, brushing his hands over her shoulders and arms. “Are you hurt?”

  “My shoulder hurts a little from where
he pushed me.” A murderous glint lit his eyes. “And…my butt hurts. I landed hard on that floor.”

  He smiled softly. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  Evan tossed a couple of twenties on their table to cover everything and they left the bar, pushing through the door and walking out into the cool spring night air. Morgan shivered, her thin sweater not offering much protection and Evan slipped his arm around her shoulders, his hand resting lightly on the injured one. He pulled her close to him.

  “You’re cold,” he offered when she glanced up at him. “Let’s go to my truck. I have a first aid kit in there. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

  He was so protective. And attentive. A girl could get used to such behavior…

  His truck was parked almost directly across from her car, and she stood by the passenger side while he opened the door and dug behind the seat. Pulling out a white metal box with a giant red cross on the front of it, he set it on the seat and popped it open. The box was filled with miscellaneous medical supplies and he turned to her, his hand going for the neck of her cardigan.

  “Maybe you should take off your sweater.” His hand dropped away from her. “I want to make sure your shoulder isn’t scratched.”

  Slowly she unbuttoned her cardigan, her entire body quivering. The heat of his gaze seared her, scorched her from the inside out and she pulled the sweater from her shoulders, revealing her bare skin. She wore a tank top because it was always so warm in the office but now she felt almost naked.

  Exposed.

  “You’re bruising already.” He didn’t hesitate to touch her, his fingers skimming her shoulder. She jumped at his gentle touch, his warm, rough-tipped fingers. “I can’t believe he pushed you.”

  “I don’t think he knew what he was doing.”

  “He hurt you. You don’t need to make excuses for him.” He pushed the sweater farther down her right arm, till it bunched to her wrist. “Your elbow is bleeding.”