Free Not Quite Married by Lorhainne Eckhart Page B

door, but he couldn’t get it open. He hurried around the vehicle and slipped in the passenger side, leaning over her.
    “Yeah, I’m… What happened?” She felt something warm and sticky dripping down her face. Logan was watching her, touching her shoulders, running both hands over her.
    “Are you hurt, Julia? You were in a car crash. You ran a stop sign. I was right behind you.”
    “Logan, I called an ambulance,” someone said. “It’s going to be about forty minutes.”
    Julia blinked. When she looked over her shoulder to Clinton; Logan’s young, tall, lanky deputy, who was leaning in through her open window, she felt the muscles in her neck tighten. She hissed.
    “Don’t move, Julia,” Logan said, sliding his hand behind her head. There were others on the street, also watching. A dark green sedan was angled sideways at her door, its hood bent, steam coming from its engine.
    “I’m okay, just help me out. I don’t need an ambulance,” she said. When she went to release her seatbelt, she noticed the blood on her hand, and she reached up to touch her brow, but Logan stopped her.
    “You’ve got a cut above your eye,” he said. “Clinton, grab that first-aid kit in the car. Hand me some gauze.”
    Something soft was pressed to her brow, and it stung. She hissed again. Logan watched her, and as he took in her face and her eyes, his expression became all business. She sensed his worry before he ran his hands down her arms again.
    “Tell me if something hurts,” he said. “I’m not moving you just yet. What day is it, Julia?”
    “It’s Wednesday. I’m fine, Logan.” Julia started when he touched her shoulder. “Ouch, that hurts.”
    “Yeah, probably from the seatbelt. You’re going to need an x-ray.”
    “No x-ray, Logan,” she pleaded. “I’m okay, just get me out of here.”
    “Clinton, can you get her door open?” Logan said. His deputy was yanking on her door, but it wouldn’t budge.
    “It’s not going to open. Can you get her out the other side?” Clinton called before leaning in. “Julia, are you doing okay?” he asked.
    “I’m fine, Clinton. Just help me out,” she said.
    The men exchanged a look before Logan slid his hand behind her back and lower. “Slide your legs over here, but if anything hurts, Julia, you stop.”
    She took in the mangled car as Logan sat her on the curb, taping the gauze above her brow. She now recognized the woman who had been driving the other car. It was Dorothy Harris, a middle-aged, dark-haired lady who worked at the grocery store. She was a nice woman, and she looked pissed. She was leaning against her car, holding her arm, with people gathered around her.
    “Is Dorothy okay?” Julia asked.
    Logan glanced over his shoulder and looked at the woman. “Yeah. Sprained wrist, I think. She’s a little shaken up.”
    An ambulance pulled in, sirens blaring. There were a lot of people mingling on the street, hanging around.
    “Logan, I can’t believe I did that,” Julia said. “I’m so sorry. I’m completely at fault.”
    “Let’s not worry about that right now. Let’s just get you checked out at the hospital and make sure everyone’s okay. That’s all that matters,” he said.
    She was no longer paying attention. As she glanced around at the accident scene she was responsible for, she realized she’d totaled her car.

Chapter 3
    O f all the places to have a pregnancy test done, a hospital emergency room wasn’t the one Julia had imagined. It only confirmed what she already knew—she was pregnant, although only a few weeks along. Everyone agreed there should be no x-ray for her shoulder. She hadn’t been hurt that badly: a cut above her brow that took five stitches, along with strained muscles, bumps, and bruises. She was lucky, and the doctor confirmed she shouldn’t be affected by the accident at all.
    This was a relief, of course, but sitting in the passenger seat of Logan’s black Jeep, having been buckled in by him as if she was