to the occasional fling.
It just had been a while since she’d been...flung.
“Address?”
She rattled off the address of her town house in New Orleans.
How was she going to explain this to her parents? Neither Miles nor Sarah was a fan of her visit to Paseo. It was bad enough that her siblings were attending, too, but Georgia had traveled alone, and these days, her dad was feeling hypersensitive about things.
“You are here for this wedding business, I take it. Deb Fortune and Gerald Robinson?”
Her chin came up again at the sheriff’s disapproving tone. She wondered what he’d think if she told him that Gerald was her newfound uncle. “What if I am? The wedding festivities run for the next two weeks. Instead of turning up your nose at the confetti, I’d think the people of Paseo would be grateful for all of the business being brought to the area!”
His lips twisted. “Area’s done fine for years without all the hassle you beautiful people bring with you.”
“I won’t mistake that as a compliment.”
“Smart. Not smart enough to keep that expensive car of yours on the road, though. Assuming you weren’t trying to kill yourself, what had you so preoccupied? Looking at your phone? Taking a selfie to post on some social-media thing?”
Her jaw loosened. She wasn’t ordinarily stuck for words, but she was now. Instead of telling him exactly what she thought of his judgmental attitude, all she could do was stare at him.
And he didn’t even bat an emerald eye.
“Well? I’ll know eventually what you were doing with your cell phone, honey, so it’d be better to tell me up front than try to lie.”
“I wasn’t doing anything with my cell phone,” she said through her teeth.
“Not checking directions, or calling your boyfriend—”
“I don’t have a boyfriend. Not that that’s any of your business, either.”
“It’s my business to understand why you went off the road in my county.”
He glanced over as the tow truck’s winch whined loudly and the cable went taut. Then he turned back and focused on his form.
She wasn’t sure what grated on her nerves more—the squeal of her car being dragged up the hill, or the way the sheriff tapped the point of his pen against the metal clipboard.
“So you were distracted and looking for a turnoff—”
“I never said I was distracted,” she snapped, which just made her head pound even more. “You did. But yes, I was keeping an eye out for a turnoff. Mile post twelve, as a matter of fact. It must be near here.”
Those emerald chips drifted over her face. “About half a mile up the road. The highway curves here a little, but not sharply. It’s easy to see approaching vehicles if you’re paying attention.”
“There weren’t any other vehicles.”
“Are you sure you were paying attention?”
“Yes! I have a perfect driving record.”
His lips twisted. “Something that can easily be bought, particularly by those who can afford to trash a car like yours.”
“I didn’t intentionally trash it,” she said through her teeth, “and I have never needed to buy my way out of anything!”
He wasn’t moved. “No signs of skidding. You said you were singing with the radio?”
“Don’t try and tell me that’s against the law.”
“If you were speeding—”
“I wasn’t.”
“—that might explain the distance the car seemed to travel aloft before it impacted the ground.”
She felt her stomach suddenly lurch and she jumped down from the SUV, running through the weeds on the shoulder of the road until she reached the guardrail and lost her lunch over the other side.
When she was finished, she didn’t have enough energy left to do anything but hang her arms over the hard, hot metal.
“Here.”
She wanted the ground to swallow her up. Spinning anything to a positive slant was her stock-in-trade, but there was just no positive way to spin throwing up on the side of the road.
She took the bottle of water from Pax. Ignoring him, she took a swig, swirled it in her mouth and spit it out.
Several yards away, her car crested the edge of the road and the horrible whining finally came to a stop. The short tow-truck driver began pushing levers on the side of his truck and the back of it began tilting down toward the ground.
“I wasn’t speeding,” she told the sheriff when she thought she could speak without vomiting again. “I wasn’t texting on my cell.” She had no idea if her phone had remained inside the car. But he definitely hadn’t found it when he’d been traipsing all over taking his pictures. She felt certain he’d be examining it for God knew what if he had.
“My whole life is on my phone,” she said, more to herself than to him. “If it’s not still in the car—” She broke off, shaking her head.
“Nobody’s whole life should be on a cell phone,” the sheriff said dismissively before he walked away from her, heading toward the wrecker. She could see him talking into that small speaker thing attached by a strap to his shoulder as he went.
She made a face at the back of him. It was childish but it still made her feel a tiny bit better. Leaning against the rail, she sipped the water and studied him as he spoke with the driver. Charlie, he’d called him.
Unlike Charlie, the sheriff was tall. Her brothers were tall, too, so it was easy enough to peg the man as several inches past six feet. Her brothers tended more toward wiry builds, though. The sheriff was stockier. Broader. Not heavy. More like a quarterback than a runner. All broad shoulders, narrow hips and muscular—
Her mouth felt cottony and she swished more water around, turning to spit it out again.
When she straightened, he was approaching her again. It was easier to focus on the tear in his shirt than it was his face, with its square jaw and slashing eyebrows.
“Here.” He extended a small pink purse and she snatched it greedily, flipping it open to find her wallet still tucked safely inside.
She extracted her driver’s license and held it up. “Check me out,” she challenged. “You’ll learn I do have a perfect driving record. I have a respectable job with Fortune Investments as the director of public relations. I own my own home and I have never gotten so much as a ticket for jaywalking!” She slid a business card free as well and barely managed to keep from tossing it in his face. “My cell phone number is on there. You want to know what I was doing on my phone for the last twenty-four
