The truth was he did mind. The coach’s daughter had never been anything but a bitch to him since the day he’d been assigned to the desk behind hers in economics. Secondly, the last thing he wanted to do at the moment was talk to a reporter, even if she was only writing for the school paper, and even if she did, in fact, have sweet tits. But at the moment, he was out of options. What he really needed to do was get home, do a Frankenstein job on his hand, and reteach himself to play football with only eight fingers.

“No, I don’t mind,” he said. “Whatever. Long as I get to the hospital, right, Curtis?”

The sheriff gnawed on the matchstick, swapping glances between Cole and Savannah. He jabbed the soggy end of it into Cole’s face. “If I don’t find you at that hospital in half an hour, it’s your ass. Is that clear?”

Cole nodded. “Crystal.”

“You have my word, Sheriff,” Savannah said. “I’ll have him there in five minutes.”

“This isn’t a joke, you two,” Hickham said. “Straight to the hospital.”

Savannah gave her father a saccharine smile, jangling the car keys in her hand.

Cole moved past her. “Hey, Coach?”

“What is it, Logan?”

“I just want you to know that I’ll be ready. I promise you, I’m not gonna let you down.”

Savannah pulled Cole away before Hickham could reply.

CHAPTER 6

COLE lit a cigarette before Savannah even got the key in the ignition.

“Do you mind?” she said.

“Oh, sorry.” He extended the pack toward her. “You want one?”

She bit her tongue, struggling to keep her revulsion of him in check. “Will you at least crack the window?”

He did. Then he slid out of his jacket and used it to wrap his bleeding hand, a gesture she assumed was more out of necessity than courtesy.

Neither of them spoke until they were off the lot. Savannah knew she needed to break the ice quickly. It was a short drive to the hospital, and she would have to get him talking fast if she was going to get what she needed … which at this point was pretty much anything printable.

“No need to thank me,” she said. “Really.” It probably wasn’t the best opening line for buttering him up, but it was the first thing that came out.

“Thank you for what?”

“Kept you out of that ambulance, didn’t I? Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Cole blew smoke into the velour ceiling. “You and I both know you didn’t do that for me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that for a journalist you make a great chauffeur.”

“I beg your—”