for a while. He peered anxiously down at Claire. The lines of her face, turned up to the sky, nearly broke his heart.
“What are you doing here?” she rasped, winded. Was she having trouble breathing? Punctured a lung? His pulse sped.
“I’ll tell you later. Where are you hurt?”
“I’m fine.” Long lashes swept her cheek and the paleness of her skin blurred its edges like watercolor. But her green eyes flashed the way he remembered, her delicate features still arousing his protective instincts. Was she going into shock?
He shrugged off his jean jacket and draped it around her shoulders. She looked frozen to the bone, too cold to even shiver.
“Wear it,” he insisted when she shook it off.
Her hand rose when he made to resettle it on her. “No. Thanks.” She pushed to her elbows and held her wrist.
“Can you move that?” He hunkered beside her.
She winced slightly when she flexed it and edged away. “Just a strain. Bruising I’m guessing.”
“Anything else?” Headlights illuminated the night and his eyes ran over her lithe form, taking in the fiery hair that seemed to grab the color from her porcelain skin. She looked smoothed, luminous, as if her flesh had been stripped away and she were made out of something so clear it was almost glass, something that could shatter. She looked beautiful.
“You’re bleeding.”
She jerked from his touch and his pulse raced at the swelling lump on her temple, the red slash through her full bottom lip. He stuffed unsteady hands into his jeans pockets, assuring himself she was okay. In one piece. Not seriously harmed.
Not again.
In the tense silence, the siren grew deafening and a fire truck thundered by and jerked to a halt. An ambulance and police car sped behind it then pulled to the opposite side of the road. Blue, red and white lights illuminated the velvet night.
EMTs raced their way. Tanner refused their help and moved aside, watching closely as they checked Claire’s vitals and examined her. One wound an Ace bandage around her ankle and handed her an ice pack. Less than twenty yards away, firemen hosed down her smoking truck, their walkie-talkies squawking in the still air.
“Talk me through what happened.” A young, heavyset police officer flipped open a pad and clicked the end of his pen.
When Tanner finished, the trooper continued scribbling and asked, “So, you’re sure the light was green when you passed through the intersection?”
Tanner opened his mouth but another voice answered.
“It was yellow on my end.” Claire limped their way, pain tucked in the corners of those determined eyes.
“When it’s your turn, I’ll take your statement.” The officer lowered his gaze to Tanner’s license.
“Are you the Tanner Hayes? The bull rider?”
Tanner nodded curtly. This wasn’t some meet and greet. Plus, the man had been rude to a lady. To Claire. That didn’t go down so good in his books.
The official pocketed his pad and thrust out a hand. “What a heck of a surprise. Can’t wait to tell the boys I met the PBR world champion. We watch you on TV every week. Say. Can I get an autograph?”
A throat cleared behind them. “I’d like to give my statement now.”
Tanner narrowed his eyes at the fawning officer. “Happy to oblige once you’ve gotten Claire’s statement.”
The cop glanced between them. “You two know each other?”
Claire’s head bent and her red curls obscured her face. “Once,” she whispered. “Not anymore.”
Her words stung. She had it about right, but Tanner wished otherwise. That things could have gone differently. That there’d been another path. One that hadn’t left her behind and him full of regret.
After she gave her statement, she refused further medical treatment and wandered closer to her damaged truck. Tanner trailed her, stretching his steps to catch up. Pebbles ground together.
The passenger side of her pickup was crumpled and her windshield was smashed. His lungs burned as he imagined the worst. He’d heard from her father that she had a son. A nine-year-old who depended on her. Why the hell had she been running a red light in the dark? And why hadn’t he spotted her in time?
He eyed his own truck with the experienced eye he’d gained helping mechanics on his rodeo crew. A crushed bumper. Smashed headlights. Pushed-up hood. Otherwise, drivable. At least, he supposed so. Someone had moved it to the other side of the road.
“I’m sorry, Claire.”
Her shoulder bones moved restlessly under his touch. “This was my husband’s truck.”
Her admission went through Tanner like the punch of an electric fence. He knew she’d moved on. Married. Yet hearing it from her trickled cold oil down his skin. His pained gaze flew to her truck—her spouse’s truck—again. He could see it now. What he’d done... Sorry wasn’t enough.
“I need to get it fixed back to the way Kevin wanted.” Her last words ended on a watery gulp that made him step closer.
The officer handed them both tickets. Tanner scanned his. Driving without insurance. He winced. Rodeo travel. Road work meant irregular mail. His renewal must have come last month when he’d been laid up in a hospital, unable to remember his name and sure his career with the top thirty-five elite was over. His future a black hole ready to crush him.
“Running a red light?” Claire’s voice rose and Tanner glanced up at her. She was all patches of black and white, like an illusion. As though one blink would turn her into moonlight and grass.
The cop looked at Claire and pointed to a motorcyclist donning his helmet. “Got a witness statement. He rode up behind you and saw the red.”
Confusion sharpened Claire’s features.
Tanner moved, restless. He didn’t want Claire ticketed. “Might have been a mechanical failure, officer.”
The uniformed man slit his eyes at Tanner. “Are you taking back your original statement? The light wasn’t green?”
Tanner shifted in his boots. He wasn’t a saint, but he was no liar, either. “No,” he admitted, then glanced at Claire’s pained expression. How many wrongs would he do her before he’d make it right?
The cop’s face relaxed into friendly lines and he held out a pad and pen. “Now, how about that autograph?”
“Sure.” Tanner scrawled his name without looking and turned at a metallic squeal. A tow truck’s chains hoisted Claire’s pickup. It was beat up. Had some mechanical damage given the small fire...but it wasn’t totaled. Could be fixed.
Her small exclamation had his gaze swinging her way, his concern growing. She looked scraped right out. When she swayed, he slipped an arm around her and held her tight. She could
