Free World's Most Eligible Texan by Sara Orwig Page A

else could, yet he seemed to see what was running in her mind andguess what her feelings were intuitively, and that unnerved her, too.
    â€œI’m all right,” she said, feeling worse by the minute. Why had she come? Why was he so darned irresistible to her? Sheila approached.
    â€œGood morning, Aaron, Pamela,” she said, looking back and forth between them as if she couldn’t believe her eyes. “What’ll y’all have? Orange juice, coffee, tomato juice, something to start? Manny’s cooking flapjacks and biscuits and gravy this morning.”
    Aaron looked at Pamela and frowned slightly, bending his head to really study her. Her stomach was churning now. She shook her head slightly, unable to say a word. The thought of any food turned her stomach.
    â€œWhy don’t you bring two orange juices and one coffee, Sheila,” Aaron said without taking his eyes from Pamela.
    The moment the waitress was gone, Pamela knew she had to get out of the diner and away from the smells. She needed some cold air, too.
    â€œExcuse me,” she said as she slid out of the booth and dashed for the door. Embarrassment and anger at herself for coming with him flooded her. She should have known better. Eight mornings out of ten she lost her breakfast. Why, oh why did she let him talk her into anything and everything? Her stomach heaved and she knew she was going to be sick, and if she lost it here in the diner—oh, horrors! The rumors that would start.
    Rumors that would be true.
    She was fumbling for the door when a long arm shot past her and opened it. She rushed outside, too aware Aaron was right beside her. She hurried away from the diner toward his pickup, grasping the door handle as she lost everything. Her stomach heaved, and embarrassment made her want to curl up and faint. If only she could!
    He thrust a clean handkerchief under her nose.
    â€œI’m sorry,” she said, unable to look at him.
    â€œYou should have told me if you didn’t feel all right,” hesaid. “Let me take you to a doctor. You might be getting the flu.” He felt her forehead and to her horror, she gagged again.
    â€œOh, Aaron, I’m sorry,” she said, wishing with all her being that she was a million miles away from here. Or that he was a million miles away. Why couldn’t he have stayed in Spain!
    â€œStop apologizing for being sick. Happens to all of us. Want to sit in the truck?”
    â€œYes,” she said, thankful the windows of the diner were steamed up and had curtains, and that the street was almost deserted at eight in the morning so few people were witnessing her nausea.
    He opened the door, picked her up and lifted her inside. “I can get in by myself,” she protested.
    â€œYou don’t need to now,” he answered, closed the door and walked around the pickup to slide in on the other side. “Want the heater on?”
    â€œNo. The cold air feels better.”
    He felt her forehead again. “You don’t feel feverish, but several people in town have the flu. Doc Williams is my doctor, and I’m sure I can get you in to see him.”
    â€œNo! I don’t need a doctor.”
    â€œIt won’t hurt,” he said, starting the motor, and she panicked.
    â€œNo! This isn’t anything unusual and it isn’t the flu. I don’t want to go see your doctor. I don’t need to. Just take me home, Aaron.” The words burst from her because she knew how he took charge and did what he wanted.
    â€œYou’ve been sick before?” he asked.
    â€œSometimes,” she said. “It passes. I don’t need to see your doctor. I’d like to go home,” she said, talking fast. She wiped her brow and leaned back against the seat with her eyes closed. As her stomach began to settle, she became aware of the silence. She glanced at him to find him looking at her so intently that her breath caught.
    â€œHow often have you been