Linny's Sweet Dream List Read Free Page B

on the sides of her shorts and tried to remember basic first aid. Did a concussion dilate or constrict pupils? “Let me check your eyes.” She stood right in front of him, and peered intently at him, but got sidetracked in her inspection. Luxurious dark lashes framed intelligent eyes that were as green as pine trees. Gracious.
    She must have looked confused, because his lips twitched and he asked, “Am I going to make it, doc?”
    â€œWe need to get you to an emergency room,” she said firmly, all the while doing frantic math in her head about the cost of an ER visit. How would she pay for that now?
    â€œI’m not going.” The man pulled his cap back on his head. “No need.”
    Vibrant men up and died unexpectedly all the time. She gave an involuntary shudder, pictured Buck’s body, and then—with a staggering wave of sadness—Andy’s. “What if you go to sleep and then never wake up?” She spoke rapidly, unaware of the tears trickling down her cheeks until she tasted them.
    His expression softening, he held up a hand. “Slow down. I’m fine. I’ve got a hard head.”
    She brushed away the tears. The after effects of adrenaline made her knees turn to jelly, and as she leaned back against his truck, she noticed a shimmering web of glass on the windshield. “What happened to your truck?”
    â€œGot hit by a bird—a Wild Turkey.” he said wryly, as he gingerly picked the Wild Turkey bottle from the cracked safety glass, and chucked it into the dumpster. “You got a two-fer.”
    She was bewildered, and then it dawned on her. “I hit you and your truck?”
    He gave her a lopsided smile. “Your throwing arm is good, but you need to work on the wild pitches.”
    She put a hand to her mouth, her panic returning. “I’m so sorry!”
    â€œNah.” He waved her off toward her car. “It was cracked already.”
    Glancing at the shiny truck, Linny peered closely at the windshield and saw a small preexisting crack beside the big new one. “Please. Let me pay for the windshield.”
    â€œNo. No big deal.”
    She snatched her purse from the car and searched her wallet, pulling out a crumpled five and three ones. Dang. She wouldn’t insult him by offering that. “I’m sending you a check,” she said firmly, and held a pen to a scrap of paper ready to get his address. “Let me get your name and address.”
    He waved her away and turned to go, but his eyes flickered down her shirt, and he suppressed a grin.
    The wave of gratitude she felt suddenly receded. Was he an ogler like Buck? She wanted to say something snappy, like, ‘Eyes up here, buddy,’ but restraint was in order—she’d just hit him with a bottle, after all. Turning on her heel, she shoved her wallet back in her purse and called over her shoulder in what she hoped was a chilly, formal tone. “Again, I’m sorry.” As she wedged the bins back in the trunk, she saw the man gazing at her with an amused smile. What was so funny? She snapped the rubber band, muttering, “I two-step toward tranquility with the tigress goddess.”
    Slipping into the driver’s seat, she slammed the car door. As she jerked on her seatbelt, she glimpsed the slogan on her T-shirt. Her face flamed. Good Lord, she wore the “I’m Too Sexy for My Skin” shirt that Kate had given her as a gag gift for her thirty-fifth birthday. She was so tired, she’d grabbed it from the F OR G OODWILL box without a glance.
    What the heck. This good girl was feeling crazy. If he thought she’d seriously wear that shirt, she might as well play the part. Linny stepped on the gas, and for the first time in her life, sprayed gravel as she fishtailed out of the county landfill. It felt good. She liked peeling out, and might start doing it more often. Maybe she’d trade in the Volvo for a muscle car. She