Page 4 of A Whisper of Summer Magic

His bark of laughter and the way his face creased with his smile was so appealing she might have sighed as if she’d been one of those dreamy heroines in one of the books Jessica kept buying on her Kindle and never quite finishing.

“It won’t be that funny if you’re arrested for trespassing,” she pointed out, hoping to hold the pain sweeping through her at bay by aiming for funny. “We could plot something nefarious in jail,” she continued to let her mind free-range and her mouth wander off without the usual strict consent she always employed.

“Does anything hurt?”

“Should it? It probably should if I’m not dead.”

“Hope this isn’t a disappointment,” he said his voice serious, but laughter lived in his beautiful blue eyes. “You are not dead.”

“So, why do you look so worried?”

“Can you move your legs?” he asked after a long silence.

“It just seems like so much troub—Ow!” She yipped as he pinched her thigh. “What the hell.” She slapped at him as he ran a finger along the soles of both of her feet.

She kicked out and then gurgled back a shout of pain as her left ankle throbbed.

“Sorry, I was worried about a spinal injury. You were so still.”

“I was relaxing.” And now she wasn’t. “Aren’t you a fireman or like a medic in the army? You should really have a better bedside manner.”

“No one’s ever complained about my bedside manner.”

“Keep your brags to a minimum,” Meghan grumped.

Usually, the only men who showed interest in her were older and very bored being married, and curious to know if her fiery hair color was natural.

Yuck.

And now she was contemplating robbing the cradle—if she could move. Not that Jackson would have any desire to be stolen. He could get a better offer every night of the week even in their sleepy southern town.

“Keeping tabs on me, Megsy?”

The grin this elicited shot something totally inappropriate in a very inappropriate place, and Meghan tried to flap her torn dress back over her body. Maybe if she stopped thinking she should go to the gym and hire a trainer to supplement the running, and actually did it, she wouldn’t be so embarrassed.

No. Even when she’d been a high school athlete in top form, she’d felt clunky next to her sisters.

“Don’t call me that. Most awkward meet-cute,” she murmured. “More like rude and not cute—at least I’m not, but you’d add the hot meet to the mix. I’m not sure if I’m making sense, but now I know I’d suck at being a heroine in a romance or rom-com.”

“You’d be fine. Besides, we’ve already met many times as kids.” He was definitely laughing now, and Meghan struggled to not be amused as she clung to the dignity she felt she should have, considering she was at least five years older, a high-priced corporate attorney staring down gaining partnership status and not dead.

“Don’t tell me I was your babysitter. Don’t say it.” She scrunched her eyes shut.

“Sarah was.”

“It’s very rude to smirk.”

“How do you know I’m smirking,” he asked, all reasonable. “What is this, preschool? Close your eyes all you want, Megsy, but I’m still here.”

Preschool. Ugh. When he was in preschool, she was the ultimate unpopular nerd in third or fourth grade. Ugh.

“Still not a good bedside manner.”

“So you said. Perhaps you’ll give me some bedside-manner tips.”

The cheekwould be a term one of her senior partners, Winnie Elise Whittaker, based in the UK, would use. And like everything else, Jackson had gorgeous and appealing cheekbones.

“Ready to try to sit up? I want to do a quick assessment for head injury or anything else to see if we need to head to the ER or if I can help you home.”

---