Stella propped a hand on a curvy hip. “So you want to tell me how you were shot?”

Voices hummed in the three-bed ER triage room. This was not the place for confessions. Mac lowered his voice. “Not here.”

Stella’s eyes narrowed, and that gorgeous mouth flattened out into a suspicious line. “Are you sure I can’t call your brother or sister for you?”

“No.” Mac sat up and reached for his shirt. “They have enough to deal with right now.”

Her eyes softened. “Again, I’m sorry for your loss. Isn’t your family going to be angry that you didn’t call them?”

“Maybe.” Definitely. “But I’m not ready to deal with them.” Mac almost wished for the pain in his side to return.

“I can’t keep this from Brody, and you know he’ll tell Hannah.”

Mac sighed. Relationships interfered with subterfuge. “He will.”

“They care about you.”

“I know.” The tightness returned to Mac’s chest. “This isn’t about them. I’m the one with the problem. Our family history is complicated.”

“Aren’t they all?”

Mac hated the sadness that clouded her eyes, but every family had its issues. “I’ll talk to them tomorrow. I’m just not up for it tonight.”

“Fair enough.”

He reached for his stained shirt. Stella’s gaze drifted down over his torso. Female appreciation lit her eyes, and a lick of heat warmed Mac’s belly. As much as he wasn’t ready for an interrogation session with his siblings, for the first time in his memory, he didn’t want to be alone. “Give me a ride home, and I’ll tell you everything.”

A wry smile turned up the corners of her mouth. “Deal.”

What would she think when he told her the truth?

Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Stella blinked and turned away as Mac tugged his shirt over his head. Staring at the man’s bare chest, no matter how fine, was beyond inappropriate.

It was, however, perfectly professional to be excited about the prospect of a real conversation with the mysterious Mac Barrett, one in which he did not spend every second evading her questions. She’d been exhausted when she’d left the Millers’ house, but the prospect of getting to know Mac better had energized her. A little caffeine would keep her going for a couple of hours, long enough to satisfy her curiosity. His family seemed to think he was scatterbrained, but Stella knew there was more to Mac than he allowed to show on the surface.

A nurse came in with discharge papers and a small prescription bottle. Mac ignored the bottle and shoved the folded papers in the back pocket of his cargo pants. As he headed for the door, Stella picked up the medicine.

“I won’t need those,” he said over his shoulder.

Stubborn man.

“But you’ll have them if you do.” She slipped the bottle into her pocket.