Reckless (Blue Collar Boyfriends Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

his chest. The nose of the car had crumpled against a tree, and steam curled from the gaping seam of the hood. Somewhere outside the car, the swish of wheels on wet road suggested a freeway close by.
    He turned his head to the left, toward the traffic noises, trying to figure out how he’d gotten here, but pain dug fiery trenches into his neck and shoulders. Whiplash.
    Testing the damaged tissues, he gingerly tried the other direction, surprised to find a man in the passenger seat. He wore a yellow polo shirt and had blond hair lightened with gray at the temples. Smile lines framed his pale blue eyes and mouth. That mouth was still. Those friendly eyes were open. And still.
    His heart dropped. “Daddy?” he said in a strangled voice. When no answer came, he tried again, louder. “Daddy? Daddy, are you okay?” He had a young female’s voice, but he couldn’t care. His father sat beside him, dead.
    Wait, his dad wasn’t dead. Dan Summers was alive and well and making people cower just up I-5 in Dunsmuir, where he lived with Derek’s mom and their two corgis. This guy wasn’t his dad. Not even close. This guy’s face reflected patience and affection, where his dad had little to express other than stern disapproval and outright anger. This guy was khakis and polos, briefcases and BlackBerries, bedtime stories on weeknights and golf on weekends, where his dad was jeans and work boots, Ford pick-ups and hard hats, too much beer on weeknights and too much whisky on weekends.
    Okay, so the guy wasn’t his dad. But his emotions, crazed with worry in the dream, couldn’t seem to grasp the fact. When the girl said, “Oh, please, Daddy, wake up!” he felt every shred of her heart wrenching fear.
    His too-slender fingers scrambled over the buckle until the seatbelt released him. His neck protested, but he paid no attention as he reached over to shake the man’s shoulder. His clean-shaven chin bobbed on his chest. Those eyes remained still.
    He shoved open his door. Clumsily, frantically, he ran around the back of the car and ripped open the passenger-side door.
    “Daddy! Daddy, you have to wake up!” His small hands curled around the man’s shoulders. He shook him.
    No. Shouldn’t shake him. Might have neck injuries.
    He couldn’t tell if the thought belonged to him or the female.
    It didn’t matter. The need to save this man consumed him, and he gave himself over to it.
    A small backpack purse nestled between the seats. Somehow, he knew it would have a cell phone inside. He lunged over the man to grab the bag and dumped the contents on the wet ground. A purple phone caught the light of a streetlamp. He snatched it and dialed 9-1-1.
    Rain and tears blurred his vision as he pinched the phone between his ear and shoulder and reached around to unfasten the man’s seatbelt. He argued with the emergency operator about where to perform CPR. He wanted to get the man flat on his back on the hard surface of the ground, but the operator insisted he shouldn’t be moved in case of injury.
    He didn’t suspect injury. The man wasn’t bleeding. The passenger-side airbag had deployed. The man’s seatbelt had been secure. He must have had a heart attack or something.
    Derek needed to get him breathing again.
    He wanted to argue with the operator or simply hang up and do it his way, but he heard himself sniffle and say, “Okay. I’ll try it in the car.”
    Fuck that. He overrode the dream and tossed the phone. Emergency response was on the way. That was all he’d needed from the operator.
    Ignoring the pain shooting up his spine, he wrapped his arms under the man’s armpits and levered him from the bucket seat. Frustrated with his smaller body and lesser strength, he lowered the man to the ground, feeling muscles in his back give. He cried out in agony and fell on top of the man.
    Pushing through the pain, he scrambled up to the man’s head, tilted his chin back and breathed into him. He pumped the man’s chest to the count