Free Restore My Heart by Cheryl Norman

her chin. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
    “Just sore. And that’s mostly from last night.” She stared at him with troubled eyes. “What’s happening here, Joe?”
    Roy Bishop worked two bays down on an old Ford. Joe cut his eyes toward the man. “Let’s talk in your office.”
    “Sure. I’d just as soon not worry Roy.”
    Joe offered Sally his arm. “Need some help?”
    She slid from the stool. “I can manage. By the way, I never did thank you for saving my life.”
    Joe chuckled. “No, but you called me an insane terrorist.”
    “Sorry. I thought someone was mugging me.” She led him into her office and the folding metal chair. She sank into the chair behind her desk. “A cripple is an easy target.”
    Something snapped inside Joe’s gut. “Dammit, Sally, stop referring to yourself as a cripple.”
    He instantly regretted the outburst. Seeing Sally almost killed by the truck had robbed him of patience. Or maybe he needed to distance himself after last night’s near-kiss. For whatever reason, he’d lost it. He braced himself for Sally’s angry rebuttal, or at least a defensive remark. An indignant you’re-way-out-of-line, mister. Tears. Anything but a smile.
    A genuine, heart-stopping smile. “Self-pity is tiresome, isn’t it?”
    “It’s more like self-deprecation.” He shook his head. “Why do you do it?”
    “The best defense is an offense.” She scrunched her shoulders, then released them, a movement that almost passed as a shrug.
    “You expect comments about your leg, so you just beat people to the punch?”
    She nodded, gnawing at her bottom lip—her rich, dewy lip. The nervous gesture conjured up erotic visions he struggled to ignore.
    “But you’re right,” she said. “I can’t expect others to see me as a normal woman until I see myself as normal and whole. I’m working on it.”
    “You are a whole woman, Sally. And an amazing one, too.” And intriguing. And sexy. Ooh, boy. “Uh, so how are you working on it?”
    “Do you really want to talk about this?” She gave him a puzzled smile.
    “Why not?”
    “I thought we were going to discuss why anyone would want to burn up the Darrin or my garage or put tire tracks across my back.”
    “You’re right. Let me call the cops.”
    He punched in 9-1-1 from her desk phone, then reported the attempted hit-and-run.
    Later, while they waited for the patrol car to arrive, Joe returned to the subject of Sally’s fitness program, hoping it would lead her to talk about her injury. Right now he wanted—no, needed—to know what made Sally Clay tick. He hadn’t succeeded in understanding his attraction to her. His life had become entangled with hers in a short time, even though he didn’t need entanglements.
    “Last night you said you work out, and it shows. Is that part of your program to see yourself as normal and whole?”
    “Yeah. You know how a blind person develops her other senses to compensate for the missing one? Well, I do that with my leg. I have severed muscles that will never work, but I also have good ones. I work the good muscles extra hard to compensate for the missing ones. It’s aggressive physical therapy beyond what the doctors recommended.”
    In other words, the doctors had given up and the insurance company wouldn’t authorize payment for continued therapy. His family had experienced that dilemma, too, with Nina’s years of therapy and treatment. Sally would exhaust every avenue before accepting defeat. “You’re missing the point, though.”
    She pursed her lips. “Which is?”
    “You’re trying to fix what’s wrong so you’ll feel worthy. I’m saying you’re worthy now, if only you’d stop crippling yourself.”
    Unconvinced eyes stared back at him. “What makes you the psychologist?”
    “I’m no psychologist, Sally, but I’m a brown belt.”
    “Karate?” Furrows deepened across her forehead. “You’ve lost me.”
    “Tai Kwon Do.” Balancing on the chair’s back legs, he leaned it