hospital.”
“What happened? Were you in traction? Broken legs?” he asked, glancing at her thighs, exposed to an almost indecently high level due to her short skirt. Then he quickly glanced away and a funny tick started in his temple.
Johnny always had been a leg man.
She thrust the thought—and the flash of unmistakable heat it caused—out of her head. Swallowing hard, she forced a note of nonchalance in her voice. “Nope, not legs. Broken head.”
He gaped. “Are you kidding?”
“Minor swelling on the brain knocked me out but good for a few days. I woke up after surgery bald as a cue ball, a little confused about who I was and wondering whether Brad Pitt really had been painting my toenails while I slept.”
This time, he hit his brakes, coming to a stop in the middle of the street. Darn good thing they weren’t being tailgated, or he would have been rear-ended for sure. “You’re serious?”
“Yeah,” she said with a rueful sigh. “Unfortunately, Brad hadn’t been visiting me during my unconscious state. That part was just a dream. Did you know they take off your nail polish when you have surgery? I didn’t know until I woke up and peeked at my toes. They were dreadfully bare, so that’s how I knew Brad hadn’t come around.”
He shot her a glare. “Would you shut up about your nail polish and get back to the bald part? Jesus, Emma Jean, did you have brain surgery?”
“The swelling had to be relieved.” She fingered a short curl beside her cheek, twisting it around her finger. “Ah, well, I’d always wanted to do something drastic with my hair.”
“Baldness is pretty drastic.”
“So are scars on your head. Believe me, this hairdo is positively lush in comparison.”
He stared at her hair, at the curl wound around her index finger. At her face.
Emma’s heart skipped a beat in her chest as she took stock of the moment. God, of all the things she’d envisioned about her homecoming, there’d never been anything close to this.
Alone with Johnny. And him looking at her with the same old combination of interest, frustration and aloofness that had always driven her crazy. She wondered what he could be thinking to make his eyes sparkle such a brilliant blue, a vivid color she’d only ever before seen in the waters of the Caribbean.
Behind them, someone laid on a horn, and Johnny jerked his attention back to the road. Emma took the moment to order her heart to get back to doing its job, regular and even. And she reminded herself to breathe.
In. Out. Slower. Deeper. Calm. Relax.
Hitting the gas, Johnny took off down the street, shaking his head and muttering something beneath his breath.
“Ahem, if you’re going to speak to me, could you do it louder? I didn’t quite hear you.”
He mumbled again, then glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She grinned.
“A lush hairdo? You always were one to see the silver lining, weren’t you?” he finally said.
Not always. Not on prom night, anyway. Not until he’d shown her the silver lining. And a lot more.
“So you don’t like my hair?” Emma wasn’t particularly vain, but she’d thought the Marilyn Monroe look suited her. And at least, it got people to stop seeing her only as the sweet, long-haired golden girl.
The hairdo had inspired other changes, including a wardrobe renovation. Not to mention her cute sporty car. Within weeks, Emma Jean had transformed into a slightly bad girl. That was one positive thing to come out of her accident, anyway.
“I like your hair Emma Jean,” he admitted. “But I meant the other silver lining. I guess you bless your accident a bit, since you got to see your grandmother one last time.”
Definitely. “Yes. I’m very thankful I got to see her again.”
It hurt to think of their last visit, fourteen months before, and not just because it had been the last time they’d been together. A very concerned Grandma Emmajean had said she was thinking of making some changes. She’d talked about leaving Georgia. Someone was interested in buying her land, and she’d thought to sell the house, too, and buy a small place in New York to be near her family. Namely her.
Those words had shocked Emma. Joyful was her grandmother’s life. The house and the grove had been in her family for decades. It had been heartbreakingly clear how lonely Grandma Emmajean had become, and how selfish Emma had been to stay away just because of some embarrassment she’d suffered as a teenager.
She’d asked Grandma Emmajean not to do it, and had promised to come for a long visit once she was well enough. Nothing would have stopped Emma from keeping her promise. Nothing…except the twist of fate that caused her much-loved grandmother’s tired heart to stop beating in her sleep the following week.
“You must have been pretty upset with your parents for not telling you,” he said. “They’re still trying to keep their princess safe, huh? Bet that one was hard to forgive.”
He understood. Instantly. Unlike anyone else, Johnny could sympathize with her anger at her parents. They’d been so worried, they’d denied her the chance to grieve the most important person in her life. Like always, they’d protected her. “Yes. It was.”
“They ever find out why you left Joyful before graduation?”
She listened for an edge in his voice, but didn’t hear it. “No. Grandma Emmajean kept them from hearing everything.”
He gave a dry chuckle. “Good thing. I remember how much they fought against you staying with her and going to Joyful High for a year.”
She vividly remembered the conversation when she’d told Johnny about her life. It had been eleven summers ago. Spotting him tinkering under the hood of his truck on the side of a country road near her grandmother’s pecan orchard, she’d stopped to give him a lift. Her heart had pounded wildly, sweat making her hands slick on the steering wheel.
It had been dangerous. Exciting. Thrilling to finally be alone with the baddest of the bad-boy Walkers.
During their brief ride, when he’d teased her about picking up strange guys, she’d told him how happy she was to live like a normal teenager. With her parents busy getting on with their jet-setting lives on the other side of the globe, they couldn’t constantly protect their “little girl” from danger.
At seventeen, being alone in a small car with the object of her most torrid virgin fantasies had ranked pretty high on Emma’s danger meter. Considering the tense, aware atmosphere between them now, she suspected things hadn’t changed much.
Not even thinking about it, Emma moved her hand to her face as she stared out the window. Another memory filled her mind…of the teasing kiss Johnny had given her that day to thank her for the ride. It had been on her cheek, but not high up, not chaste and friendly. Not at all. He’d kissed her close to her mouth, as if wanting to taste the tiny dimple in her cheek. Then he’d shifted to brush his lips against the corner of hers. Even more amazing, he’d stolen a wicked taste of her lip gloss with a heart-stopping flick of his tongue.
