Have Bouquet, Need Boyfriend Read Free Page B

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.

    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