Roping the Cowboy Billionaire - Emmy Eugene Page 0,4
met again, and Tam didn’t dare ask if he’d seen her undressed. Those milk chocolate eyes buzzed with energy though, like he knew exactly what she was worried about. He said nothing and cocked his head instead.
“Where’s your cowboy hat?” she asked.
Blaine reached up and touched his hair, as if he hadn’t realized he wasn’t wearing a cowboy hat. “I don’t know,” he said. “I must’ve lost it somewhere along the way.”
“I’m not paying for a replacement,” she said automatically. “You have more money than anyone. You cowboy billionaires can buy your own hats.”
He laughed, and Tam smiled at the good thing she’d done. “I have plenty of hats, Tam.”
“I’m sure you do.”
He scooted closer to her and took both of her hands in his. “You sure you’re okay? Not feeling dizzy or sick?”
“No,” she said.
“Your head doesn’t hurt?”
“No,” Tam said. “My back either. They gave me something though. I know they did.”
“Just a very light sedative,” he said. “No painkillers.”
“Are you sure?”
“That’s what they told me.”
Tam wasn’t sure if she believed what the doctors told people. When she and her mother had been hit by the twenty-something who’d been texting instead of paying attention to the road, they’d said her mother would make a full recovery. Five years had passed, and she still limped, and she still suffered from neck pack nearly all the time, and her back still went out at least once a week.
She’d been going to the chiropractor religiously every week for years, and Tam didn’t think that was a full recovery.
“I just want to go home,” she said.
“I’ll get you there,” he said. “I promise.”
“What shape was my truck in?” She watched his reaction, and when he ducked his head, she knew it wasn’t good. “You can’t hide behind that hat,” she teased.
“It’s got to be totaled,” he said. “The whole front end was smashed up.”
“He came out of nowhere,” Tam said. “He was going way too fast, and he didn’t even slow down for the stop sign.” Her blood started to heat. “He’s a cop, and I just know he’s going to get off with nothing.”
“Was he in a police car?”
“No,” Tam said. “No lights, no siren, no nothing.” She blinked, her thoughts flying through possibilities. “If they say he was, and that the accident was my fault, I won’t get insurance money.”
“Sure, you will,” he said. “You just might have a fee or something.”
“Do you know the fee for not yielding to a police officer who has his lights and siren on?” she challenged.
Blaine did not know, and Tam had made her point. “They’re not going to do that,” he said. “They were taking pictures and stuff when I got there.”
“Evidence can be tampered with,” she said.
“Okay, Tam,” he said with a smile. “This isn’t one of your crime dramas.”
He hadn’t dealt with insurance companies that only wanted to pay the minimum, or who wanted to somehow make a texting college student out to be her mother’s fault. She didn’t say anything, because she was tired of arguing with Blaine. When they were best friends, it was fun, witty banter. Now that she wanted him to be her boyfriend, the arguments were just annoying.
“Thank you for coming,” she said, leaning back into the bed.
He released her hands so he didn’t have to lean so far forward. “I will always come when you call, Tam.”
Their eyes met, and Blaine rose to his feet slowly. Sparks practically shot out of his eyes, and Tam felt them moving up her arms and into her neck. “I’ve missed you this week,” he said huskily. “We’ve been so busy on the ranch, and I hate not seeing you.” He bent down as if he’d kiss her right there in the emergency room, where the AC clearly wasn’t working and she was wearing a white gown with faded, blue flowers on it.
“All right,” a man said, his voice easily being broadcast through a microphone. She jumped and looked toward the door while Blaine backed up against the wall. Her heart pounded in her throat and ears as she watched a very large African-American man look up from a clipboard. “Tamara, it’s so good to meet you. I’m Terrance.”
She had never heard a voice so deep or seen hands so big. She managed to shake his and answer a few questions. He took her temperature and blood pressure, never reporting on what his instruments told him.
He scrawled things on the clipboard and finally looked up. “Are you ready to go