Fortunately for Lansing, he did have a brain after all because he quickly changed the subject to instructions on removing and replacing Ms. Brady’s ankle dressing and air splint. He gave her crutches then released her, rushing away to another patient.
Earlier while she’d been getting X-rayed, Brandon had hurried back in the golf cart, leaving it on the side of the building they worked in where it was supposed to be. He brought his Jeep back to the hospital instead.
Rolling her out to the Jeep, he was glad now that he hadn’t lifted the Jeep yet as he intended to. It was already high enough that he knew she’d have trouble getting in. He threw the crutches in the back seat, opened the window, and helped Ms. Brady out of the wheelchair. “Leave everything on the chair, Ms. Brady. I—”
“You said you’d call me Regina,” her voice went a little high as she wrapped an arm around his neck and wobbled onto her good foot.
He adjusted her so he could get a good hold of her to lift her into the Jeep, and their eyes met. He’d never actually said he would, but he wasn’t going to argue. “Just leave your things on the chair. I’ll grab them once I have you in the Jeep.”
She wrapped her other arm around his neck and tilted her head to the side with a frown. “Why don’t you like me, Sergeant Billings?”
He stared at her for a moment but didn’t answer. Instead, he lifted her onto the passenger side of his Jeep and closed the door. He grabbed her things from the wheelchair and threw them in the backseat, walking around the Jeep in a huff.
He f**king knew this was a bad idea.
As soon as he was in the driver’s seat, she was at it again. “Can you at least tell me what it is about me that you dislike so much?”
Her words were noticeably less affected than they had been when Lansing had given her the morphine. She wasn’t even slurring, just speaking a little slower. The doctor must’ve gone a lot lighter on the dose.
He inhaled deeply as he slid the key into the ignition. “I never said I didn’t like you. I just said I had no interest in getting to know you.” Without turning to look at her, because he heard the gasp and he could only imagine the amusing expression on her face, he revved the Jeep up. “Fasten your seatbelt.”
“But that’s mean! You don’t say that to someone unless you don’t like them or are deliberately trying to hurt their feelings, which you did.” She paused as she put her seatbelt on. “And you don’t deliberately try to hurt someone’s feelings unless you don’t like them.”
Refusing to look at her, he pulled forward to get out of the patient pick-up line. “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings. It wasn’t my intention.”
“Yes, it was,” she insisted.
“No, it wasn’t.” Pulling into the exit driveway of the hospital, he finally glanced at her, instantly regretting it because she looked adorable with that little crease between her eyes and her arms mulishly crossed in front of her. Struggling not to smile, he asked, “Which way do I turn?”
“Right,” she said. “And why can’t I call you by your first name?”
He bit down, locking his jaw for a moment before responding. This conversation needed to be derailed and soon because he was not getting personal with her. “Because we know each other strictly on a professional level, and I’d like to keep it that way. Referring to each other by first names would not be professional.” He heard her exhale a bit exasperated, but thankfully she didn’t say more. “Where do you live?”
She told him where, and it should’ve frustrated him further; instead, he smiled inwardly that her condo was only blocks from his apartment. Of course, she lived in an oceanfront condo, and he lived in an apartment building that was a few blocks away from the beach, but it wasn’t as if he couldn’t afford to live more lavishly. He just chose not to.
To his relief, she was quiet the rest of the way, but he felt the tension thickening with every minute they drove in silence. He’d gladly take the tension over getting back into that risky conversation again. After spending several hours with her now, he’d be too tempted to assure her he didn’t dislike her because he hated knowing he’d hurt her feelings. It was better if they left things as they were with him not exactly denying he didn’t like her only clarifying what he’d actually said.
Scrutinizing the two-story building she pointed out as hers, he pulled into the security gate entrance and frowned. “I hope for your sake there’s an elevator.”
“I have crutches now,” she said, still sounding a little irritated with him. “You won’t have to carry me up.”
He turned to her, suddenly overwhelmed with concern. “You’re serious? You’re on the second floor, and there’s no elevator?”
She shook her head. “The code is 7119.”
Frowning, he turned to the security pad and punched in the numbers.
“My condo is on the first floor,” she clarified as they waited for the gate to open slowly.
“Then what did you mean about me not having to carry you up?”
He drove in the gate as she pointed in the direction of her condo. “It’s the last one on the right. They’re all on the first floor. They’re just all two stories,” she explained. “So my bedroom is on the second floor, and no there’s no elevator in my condo. I’ll be hopping upstairs or using my crutches to get up there.”