Young Millionaire Crashed His Motorcycle in a Town. Never Expected to Fall for the Woman Who Helped
The Crash and the Stranger
Bennett’s vision blurred as his motorcycle skidded across the slick country road, tires screeching against the pavement. The last thing he saw before impact was a flash of green trees lining the road, then everything went black.
When he came to, the smell of rain and earth filled his lungs. Pain shot up his leg and his helmet lay cracked beside him. His Ducati, the sleek machine that had cost more than most people made in a year, was wrecked against a tree.
A voice cut through the haze.
“Hey, are you alive?”
Bennett groaned as footsteps pounded against the wet gravel. A woman crouched beside him, concern etched on her face. Dark curls framed her striking features, her green eyes scanning him with urgency.
“You crashed,” she said, her voice breathless. “Badly.”
“No kidding,” Bennett muttered, wincing as he tried to sit up. His ribs protested and pain flared in his leg.
“Don’t move,” she ordered, pushing against his shoulder gently. “You might have broken something.”
Bennett exhaled sharply. This wasn’t how his weekend getaway was supposed to go. He had planned to clear his head and get away from the corporate sharks circling his latest business deal.
Instead, he was sprawled out on the side of a deserted road with a stranger tending to him. She pulled out her phone, then cursed under her breath.
“No signal. Great. Figures.”
His voice was hoarse.
“Where are we?”
“About five miles from town,” she said. “I was driving back from my shift at the diner when I saw the wreck.”
A waitress. That explained the scent of coffee clinging to her.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Willow,” she said, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “And you?”
“Bennett.”
He swallowed a groan as he tried to shift again. Willow sighed.
“All right, Bennett, you’re not walking anywhere like this. My truck’s nearby. Let’s get you to town.”
Bennett was not used to being taken care of. In his world, money solved everything. Assistants arranged his appointments, drivers took him wherever he needed to go, and doctors came to him.
But here in the middle of nowhere, he had no choice but to rely on this woman. She hooked an arm around his waist, bracing herself as he leaned against her. For someone smaller than him, she was surprisingly strong.
With every step toward her truck, Bennett’s pride took another hit. He was used to control and to power. Yet here he was, limping like a lost man, depending on a waitress who smelled like vanilla and coffee.
She helped him into the passenger seat then jumped behind the wheel. The truck rumbled to life.
“You don’t seem surprised,” Bennett said as she pulled onto the road.
“By what?”
“That I drive a motorcycle that costs more than this entire town.”
Willow shot him a glance.
“I don’t care about that. I care that you’re bleeding all over my seat.”
A laugh escaped him, rough but real. It was the first genuine one he’d had in weeks. As they drove into town, he realized something strange.
He had spent his life surrounded by people who wanted something from him: money, deals, or power. But Willow? She didn’t seem to care who he was or what he had. For the first time in a long time, that intrigued him.
Willow pulled into the town’s only clinic, the neon “Open” sign flickering in the front window. She shifted the truck into park and turned to Bennett.
“Can you walk, or am I carrying you?”
Bennett exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening.
“I can manage.”
She climbed out and rounded the truck just as he opened the door. He shifted his weight to his good leg, gripping the door frame. It was clear he was struggling, but pride kept him silent.
Willow didn’t offer help this time. She had a feeling he wouldn’t accept it. They entered the clinic, the scent of antiseptic hanging in the air.
A nurse at the front desk glanced up from her paperwork, her expression shifting to concern.
“What happened?”
“Motorcycle accident,” Willow answered.
The nurse grabbed a clipboard.
“Dr. Hensley’s in the back. Let’s get him to a room.”
Bennett limped down the hall with Willow at his side, his movement stiff. They entered a small examination room where the fluorescent lights buzzed overhead.
A few minutes later, a man in a white coat stepped in, glasses sliding down his nose.
“Well, well. You must be the unlucky rider who met our roads the hard way.”
Bennett sank onto the examining table, his patience thin.
“You could say that.”
The doctor checked his ribs, pressed lightly against his leg, and studied the cut on his arm.
“Nothing broken, but you’ll be sore for a while. I’ll clean up that wound and wrap your ribs. Try not to do anything reckless for a few weeks.”
Bennett let out a dry laugh.
“Not my specialty.”
Willow crossed her arms.
“Maybe it should be.”
He glanced at her, surprised by the edge in her voice. She held his gaze, unyielding. There was something about the way she looked at him, like she wasn’t impressed by his usual charm.
She looked like she expected better. The doctor patched him up quickly, giving instructions about rest and medication. When they were done, Willow stepped forward.
“You have somewhere to go?”
Bennett hesitated. His original plan had been to stay at a luxury cabin on the outskirts of town. But after the accident, he wasn’t sure riding back out there was a good idea.
