“Wait. I want to get to know you, but if you think you can’t talk to me because you think I’m an arrogant, judgmental jerk?—”
“John. You didn’t blow it.” She leans over and kisses me on the cheek. “But for the record, I’m… I mean, Iwasa ballerina.”
I stare at her. “Oh.”
She lets go of my hand and hugs the hat box. “Do I still get to keep this beautiful apology hat box?”
“The gift isinsidethe box. It’s not the box itself.”
“Yes, but nobody’s ever given me a hat box before, and it’s so lovely. I don’t even need to see what’s inside.”
“You drive me crazy, you know that? Unless you want me to take those damn sunglasses off you, so I can kiss you properly, open the hatbox.”
She pulls the lid off and sets it to the side before peering down at the contents. “This is even more gorgeous than the box.” She fingers the stitching. “Did you secretly measure my head when I wasn’t looking?”
“I eyeballed it. And Skye helped. She’s real good at eyeballing sizes. If it doesn’t fit or you don’t like the design or color, I’ll take you with me to Boots and Bikinis and get you another. You can try it on later, though. No hurry.”
She leans over and gives me another kiss on the cheek then whispers in my ear, “Thank you. I really love it.” She puts the lid on and hugs the hat box, a huge grin on her face.
“I have to stop in real quick at Greene’s to talk to Rena. After that, though, I got a couple free hours and that date I was talking about was with you and a plate of food. Maybe some pie.”
She stares down at her knees for a few moments before looking back up at me. “I don’t know. I’m pretty busy doing nothing.”
I grin down at her. “My pickup’s outside of Seventh Heaven. I can meet you there. Bring your bike, and I’ll throw it in the truck.” I lope away, calling back behind me, “I know you’re looking. You just can’t help it, can you?”
13
HONEY
I decideto dash back to Seventh Heaven to slip on my new sundress and sandals and maybe even my new hat before Fox finishes whatever he’s doing at Greene’s. I stash the hat box in the bike basket and pedal toward Seventh Heaven.
If I had just been concentrating better on what I was doing, instead of thinking about whether I was going to look cute or just plain stupid in a cowboy hat, I wouldn’t have bowled through the stop sign on the corner next to the ‘Don’t That Take the Cake’ cake shop. I jam on the bike brakes as a car almost sideswipes me. My bike tailspins. I frantically steer away from the large group of tourists ogling the cakes in the window, then careen helplessly into the ‘Don’t That Take the Cake’ sign.
The tourists make their way toward me as I lie on the pavement groaning. “I’m fine,” I yell out. A young woman wearing a T-shirt that says, “I got healed in Heaven” snaps a photo before I even have the chance to peel myself off the ground. “Look! Don’t that take the cake!” she yells, chortling to her friends and showing them the photo.
When I try to push myself up, my wrist screams in pain and buckles under my weight. I slide back down onto the pavement.
Fox pushes through the group of ladies. He bends down in front of me. “Hey.” He slips his arm under my waist. “Can you stand?”
I push my face into his chest as someone else snaps a photo of me. “Please tell them not to take any more pictures,” I plead into John’s chest.
He stands and turns. “If anyone else takes another photo, I’m going to break your cell phone,” he growls. “You got that?”
Except for a few stragglers, the ladies scurry away at John’s protracted glare.
He drops to a knee again, slides an arm under me, and lifts me in his arms. “You should have been watching where you were going,” he tells me. I push my face into his wide, hard chest and make a sound that’s half laugh, half sob.
“It’s not funny. I’m such an idiot. I think I reinjured my wrist and might have twisted my ankle.”
He runs a finger along my cheek. “Did you hit your head, Tiny?”
“No.”
He tucks me close and heads in the opposite direction from his pickup.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m taking you to the clinic.”
