Free Plain Jayne by Hillary Manton Lodge Page A

personal questions.”
    â€œShe is fine then.”
    â€œAnd she likes to talk about you.”
    Was it my imagination, or was that a blush forming near his collar?
    â€œShe has always been very good to me.”
    â€œThat’s nice.”
    â€œShe’s also sad I’m single.”
    â€œMost grandmothers are, I guess. Mine passed away a long time ago, but that seems right.”
    â€œHave you heard anything from your boyfriend?”
    I ducked my head. “Yeah. He called yesterday.”
    The expression on his face turned plastic. “Glad to hear that.”
    I flushed. My heart raced. My mouth grew dry—all in all, my body is very good at impersonating a high school crush.
    And if I didn’t know better, I’d think he was looking at my lips.
    Or was I looking at his?
    I had to get out of that office. Without any sort of verbal warning, I stood, turned, and headed toward the door.
    At least that was my intention. Next thing I knew, my foot caught, the world spun, and I had carpet lint between my teeth.

Chapter 8
    I n an instant Levi crouched next to me on his hands and knees. “Jayne? Are you okay?”
    I blinked from my position on the floor. “How did that happen?”
    â€œI think it was the garbage can.”
    I lifted my body enough to look. Sure enough, there was an ankle-biter garbage can, overturned and looking guilty.
    Sara peered over me, having returned in time to see my appointment with gravity. “What happened?”
    â€œI’m a moron, that’s what happened.” I put my wrist down to push myself up, and then I yelped in pain.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” Levi’s gaze focused on my hand. “Did you break something?”
    Was it me, or did my left wrist look larger than it used to be?

    The X-ray tech squinted at me. “Looks bad.”
    I stopped myself from rolling my eyes. My wrist, by now, was three times its normal size.
    The woman positioned me on the table, laying a lead apron over my torso. “So, are you Amish?”
    I winced. Levi had driven us straight to the hospital ER, no matter how many times I begged for him to take me back to the farm so I could change clothes. I mean I wasn’t going to die. Really, just the quickest of clothing changes…
    But he didn’t, and here I was on the X-ray table feeling like a kid who got caught playing dress-up.
    â€œSure, yeah, I’m Amish,” I said. I was embarrassed enough without having to explain that I was undercover reporter Amish.
    I mean, really.

    The glow of the streetlights reflected on the bright white compression brace. “It’s just a sprain,” I groused as we drove back to the shop. “Don’t know why I need this thing. It’s not very Amish.”
    â€œI could make a black sleeve for it,” Sara suggested.
    â€œMore punk rock than Amish.” I sighed. “And I can’t ride my bike with this.”
    Levi shot me a quick glance as he drove. “What did the doctor say about you riding?”
    â€œThe swelling should be down in a week or two, but I shouldn’t ride until I get my full range of movement back.” I sighed again. “That part may be a while.”
    â€œAt least the sling’s navy!” Sara chirped.
    â€œYes, the sling is appropriately Amish looking.”
    â€œDon’t worry about your bike,” Levi said. “I can take it back to the farm if you can drive the truck.”
    â€œThat’s all well and good, but that leaves me with only a buggy.”
    â€œBuggies are good enough for a lot of people.”
    â€œHmm, yes, but I need to have a motor of some sort around.” I looked him in the eye. “And the tractor doesn’t count.”
    His mouth snapped shut. “Fine. I won’t suggest that, then.”
    â€œDon’t.” I thought out loud, “My car’s probably out of the shop by now…”
    â€œDo you want me to pick it up