Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 33407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 167(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 167(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
He frowns. “Me. You. A pastor or judge or something. We need...stop the car!”
I jam on the brakes and look for Betsy. It would be like her to show up now. ”Did you see her?”
He reaches for the handle of the passenger door, yanking on it. Thankfully, I had the foresight to lock his door when I closed it. “Rings! We need—”
I need to distract him, so he doesn’t try to jump from Rusty. “Wait, hold my hand for a few minutes first.”
He takes my hand in his instantly, and I try to ignore the tingles that race down my arm as I drive him to the doctor’s office in town.
I pull up to the clinic. For a moment, I’m not sure what to do. Should I go inside and get someone to bring out a wheelchair?
Then I remember the way that Zac reached for the door handle while the car was still moving, and I decide that maybe it’s a better idea to keep him with me.
Quickly, I move around the car and help him into the building. He’s still leaning heavily on me and swaying a lot. Please be OK. Please make a full recovery.
As soon as we enter the clinic, the bell above the door rings. Martha, the nurse that’s been here since the clinic opened, hurries from the back.
As soon as Zac sees her, he asks, “Have you met my girlfriend? She’s beautiful. We’re going to have babies.”
I do not need to be thinking about having babies with Zac Maple because the cowboy is hot, and if he started singing to me, it would totally be game over.
I direct my attention to Martha, cringing as I admit, “I kind of hit him accidentally.”
Zac pulls his phone from his shirt pocket and taps on it. Somehow, the screen wasn’t dented when I hit him.
Martha frowns. “What do you mean you hit him, honey?”
I make a noise of total despair. “I hit him with my car, and now I think he has a brain injury, and I’m going to jail for the rest of my life!”
Chapter 2
Dotty
“This one,” Zac says as he shoves his phone toward me.
I glance down to see he’s on a jewelry website, and he’s loaded a picture of an engagement ring. It has to be at least seven carats. The sparkle could blind a person up close.
“See what I mean?” I ask Martha miserably. I want to go back in time and undo this horrible mistake. I never thought I’d be the kind of person who hit someone else with their car.
Martha finally seems to the gravity of the situation because in her no-nonsense voice, she says, “Let’s take a seat in the back and get this sorted.”
Zac is swaying again so the two of us help into a room for patients. He settles onto the exam table when Martha tells him to sit, though she does have to tell him twice. Is he having trouble understanding people now? Which part of his brain did I damage?
Martha runs her fingers through Zac’s hair, feeling around his head gently. She talks as she works, “How is your head? Does it hurt?”
He pats his T-shirt, right over his heart. Something rattles with the slight motion. “There’s so much love in my heart. So much love.”
Martha glances down into the pocket of his shirt then snorts. “That’s not the only thing in there. Zac, can I talk to your girlfriend? Can I tell her about your health?”
He makes a circle with his fingers to indicate zero. “I have zero secrets from my soulmate.”
“That’s good. I’m going to talk to her over here,” she says and ushers me from the room.
We step down the hall, away from Zac’s room. When Martha speaks, there’s a thread of amusement in her voice. “He doesn’t have a brain injury. He’s high as a kite in a Georgia windstorm.”
I know I’m supposed to be a professional journalist and take everything I’m told in stride, but my eyes nearly bug out of my head. “Zac has a drug problem?”
“Not quite. He fell off stage two days ago. He’s pretty badly bruised, but Cash doesn’t think he broke anything. He prescribed him some painkillers and told him to stay off his feet for a week. Zac is a lightweight.”
I chew on my lip, processing what she said. “But how do you know I didn’t scramble his brain like an egg?”
She finally gives up trying to hide the amusement in her tone and full-on cackles. “Take it from me. The Maple boys are hard-headed.”
“But isn’t he supposed to go to the hospital for an evaluation or something?”
She shrugs. “I can tell him to go. You can too, but he won’t do it. He hates hospitals. Cash recommended he go for X-rays of his hip when this first happened. He’s probably got some nasty bruises by now.