Have Bouquet, Need Boyfriend

A smile curved his mouth, the wind tousling the lock of hair into disarray again, making him even more sexy. “Are you in a hurry? We could grab some coffee and talk.”

Talk?

No, talk was impossible. Her tongue was superglued to her teeth now.

She shook her head. “I…have—” she paused and cleared her throat “—have to hurry home.”

He jammed his hands in his pockets and studied her as she darted past him and into the car. “Are you sure? Rebecca…”

She ignored the fact that he followed her to the driver’s side and waved him off. “Thanks again.” Rebecca’s hands shook as she shoved the keys into the ignition, her mind tumbling with questions. Had Thomas really asked her out?

And if so, why?

It didn’t matter. She was a flirting failure and a disaster at the sex talk most women seemed so comfortable with these days. A real dinosaur at relationships.

She pressed the clutch, turned the key and sighed as the engine roared to life. Putting it into reverse, she rolled backward. Then she glanced in her rearview window and saw Thomas jump aside.

Dear God, she’d almost hit him.

He threw up a hand and waved anyway, and she panicked and pressed the gas again. But she’d forgotten to shift into drive and the car shot backward again. Gravel spun out sideways, the ground flew by under her, then her car lurched to a stop, metal crunching and glass shattering. Her neck jerked back, then sideways, then snapped forward. Her forehead and chest slammed against the steering wheel. The horn blared. She squeezed the steering wheel with white-knuckled hands. Breathing in slowly, she lifted her head and looked over her shoulder to survey the damage. Her heart clamored to a stop. The top of the hope chest had fallen over, the contents spilling out. She peeked beyond, cringing.

She had just smashed into Thomas’s brand-new convertible. It looked like a broken pretzel.

Chapter Two

The sound of metal crunching and glass breaking rang in Thomas’s ears as he ran toward Rebecca’s car. But his heart pounded with worry. What if Rebecca was hurt?

He wrenched open the door, his pulse hammering at the sight of her trembling body. Her head was thrown forward, her hands clenching the steering wheel, her face shadowed by strands of hair that had fallen forward. Worse, her body was so still it seemed lifeless.

Had she hit her head?

“Rebecca?” He hesitated, knowing he couldn’t move her; she might be seriously injured. But he had to know if she was conscious. He pressed two fingers to her neck to feel for a pulse. She trembled beneath his touch, a shiver rippling through her.

A low cry tore from her throat as she turned tear-stained eyes to him. “I’m so-o-o sorry.”

Relief surged through him. A red lump protruded on her forehead, and her glasses hung askew, but, thank God, she was okay.

“Are you hurt?” He waited, his heart pounding when she simply stared at him with glazed eyes.

“Rebecca, please answer me. Where are you hurt?” He quickly surveyed her with his eyes to check for blood or protruding bones, but didn’t spot any major injuries. She hadn’t been wearing her seat belt though. Not a good sign. “Rebecca—”

“I’m such an idiot.”

He eased her back to rest against the seat, gently removed her glasses, then, with a finger below her eyes, checked her pupils. “Did you hit your head hard?”

She shook her head, her wide-eyed gaze full of shock.

“You weren’t wearing your seat belt?”

She glanced down in a daze. “Was…going to.”

“Your ribs? Did you hit the steering wheel?”

She nodded dumbly, her expression lost. “I…your car.”

“Forget about the damn car, just tell me if you’re hurting somewhere.” He reached for the front of her billowy bridesmaid dress to check for injuries to her chest, but she pushed his hands away in horror. “Rebecca, I’m just trying to examine you.”

“I’m fine.” She sniffled, her body shaking. “But I ruined your…your Porsche. I meant to go forward, but I forgot to shift gears and then the car shot back so fast—”

“I said to forget the car. Now if you won’t let me check you here, I’ll call an ambulance.”

“No.” She grabbed his hands and clung to him. “I’m okay, but I feel so stupid…” A wail escaped her, long and quavery.

His heart squeezed at the misery in her voice, so he cupped her face in his hands. “Stop worrying. I have insurance.”

That luscious lower lip of hers trembled again, the color draining from her face. He couldn’t stand it, he pulled her against the crook of his neck and rocked her, murmuring soft words of comfort. She felt fragile and small and more womanly than he’d expected. Protective instincts kicked in, warring with a sudden realization that her minty breath was tickling his neck, and the subtle scent of her feminine perfume was awakening sensations better left dormant.

“What was that noise?” Shouts erupted behind them and he could hear footsteps beating a path down the graveled drive. He pulled away, standing by the car and turning to face Rebecca’s relatives. Hannah, Jake, and Wiley Hartwell jogged down the path, Wiley heaving as he pushed his way to the front.

“Everyone okay?” Wiley yelled.

“I think so.” Thomas frowned at Wiley’s taxed breathing. The last thing he needed was the man to have a heart attack and send Rebecca into full shock.

“Rebecca, baby, are you all right?” Wiley leaned his hands on his pudgy knees, peering into the car. Jake and Hannah approached, Mimi, Seth, and Grammy Rose behind them, their faces full of concern.

“Mercy me,” Grammy Rose murmured.

“Becca, are you all right?” Hannah and Mimi both asked at once.

“Yes.” Rebecca wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, slipped her wire-rimmed spectacles back on her nose and grabbed the door to pull herself out. Thomas slid a hand in to help her. She was still shaking but managed to get out of the car, not meeting his gaze.

He silently surveyed her again and was thankful not to see any blood.

“But I ruined Thomas’s car.”

The entire family pivoted, each gaping at the mangled metal with various stunned looks. She had collided with the driver’s side, smashing the front door like a piece of cardboard. The windshield and windows had imploded with the impact, and glass pellets covered the beige leather. Her own station wagon had suffered as well. The bumper was warped, the tailpipe bent at an odd angle. But the clunker had already seen its better days; the faded green paint was chipped and peeling off in strips.

“It is kind of dented,” Mimi said in a low voice.

“The passenger side is still intact,” Hannah added cheerfully.

As if to mock her, the hub cap from the right-front tire fell off, rolled toward her and settled into a spin at her feet.

“Mercy me,” Grammy Rose whispered.

“You can still open the door,” Jake offered, obviously trying to be optimistic.

But when he yanked on the door handle to prove his point, the wretched metal came off in his hands with a crunch. The left tire let out a whooshing sound, then popped and the tire deflated right in front of their eyes.