Accidentally Hers (Sterling Canyon #1) Read Online Free Page B

he’ll pay the piper. But he deserves compassion, too. He didn’t intentionally set out to hurt anyone. It was a terrible, terrible accident caused by a moment of bad judgment. Who out there hasn’t had a moment of bad judgment? No one, that’s who! Most of us are just lucky none of ours ended in tragedy.”
    “I’m sure he’d appreciate your empathy and support, but the fact Andy’s not the first to get behind the wheel after one too many doesn’t excuse him or fix the fallout.” Avery sighed. “I’m sorry, guys, I can’t talk right now. I’m dead on my feet. I’ll call you later.”
    Avery set the phone aside and rolled onto her side, hugging a pillow. She forced Andy’s troubles from her mind, including the recurring images of him lying bruised and beaten in his hospital room. How must Grey look? Her last coherent thought, as she drifted into the soothing peace sleep promised, was of Grey’s seductive eyes.

    Grey lumbered out of the doctor’s office on crutches, carrying his presurgical instructions. Thankfully, Trip had pulled the Backtrax van up to the curb for him. After several clumsy steps, Grey handed his crutches to Trip and gently slid into the front seat.
    “How’re you feeling?” Trip tossed the crutches in the back of the van and slammed the door.
    “Shitty. Wish I didn’t have to wait another ten days for the surgery.” Grey shifted uncomfortably in the front seat and winced. Thankfully the painkillers helped numb the sharp twinges of bending and straightening the joint. But stuffing his leg into the car kinda sucked. “How were today’s treks?”
    “Let’s get home and settled before we talk about business, okay?” Trip turned south out of the hospital driveway. “You need surgery. Maybe your first concern should be your health.”
    “Don’t remind me.” Grey rubbed his thigh just above the knee with care. “I know it could be worse, but this damned injury screwed me during the final weeks of ski season.”
    “Well, the driver got hurt, too.” Trip glanced at Grey from beneath the brim of one of his dozen cowboy hats. “I hear he’s looking at felony charges.”
    “Should I feel bad about that? Seems he got what’s coming to him as far as I can tell.”
    Trip shrugged. “Can’t blame you for those feelings.”
    “Right? Not only am I out for the rest of ski season . . . this leg means I won’t be able to climb this summer. Puts a real crimp in my plans and bottom line.” Grey tapped his fingers against his thigh. “Maybe I can assist with some basic training by June.”
    “You know, some of our friends feared the accident would do you in, but really, it’s gonna be stress that kills you.” Trip shook his head. “You need to get some perspective.”
    Grey folded his arms across his chest, eyes on the windshield. He hated talking about the accident, but he really hated being lectured to by Trip. “Well, hello, Oprah. When did you arrive?”
    “At least you haven’t lost your sense of humor.” Trip grinned then turned up the radio and whistled along with a Kenny Chesney song.
    “Trip, I know I’m asking a lot, but what I need from you is help—with the business, not with me, personally.”
    “Believe it or not, I understand what’ s at stake for you . You’ll have to trust I’ve got your back.” Trip shot him a look of pure challenge.
    “You’re right. Sorry.” Grey’s shoulders eased a bit. He stared at the yellow center line of the winding country road for a minute, trying to drown out the twangy music. “Hey, can we at least agree on some other station? Anything but this sappy, sad country stuff.”
    Grey had been surrounded by music his entire life. His mother, a music teacher, had gifted him with both an appreciation of music and a natural talent for playing the piano. His talent had propped him up when he’d felt defeated by his dyslexia. He’d habitually turned to his piano in times of trouble or stress, which meant his keyboard would