Plain Jayne (10 page)

I snorted. “You wouldn't think it.”

“She's seventeen,” he said with a laugh. “It's her prerogative.”

“I met Ida.”

“How is she?”

“Fine, although I have no previous experience to compare it with. I can't tell you if she looks worn or has lost weight, but I can say she likes personal questions.”

“She is fine then.”

“And she likes to talk about you.”

Was it my imagination, or was that a blush forming near his collar?

“She has always been very good to me.”

“That's nice.”

“She's also sad I'm single.”

“Most grandmothers are, I guess. Mine passed away a long time ago, but that seems right.”

“Have 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.

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?”

“I 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?”

“I'm a moron, that's what happened.” I put my wrist down to push myself up, and then I yelped in pain.

“What'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.

“Sure, 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.”

“I could make a black sleeve for it,” Sara suggested.

“More 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?”

“The 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.”

“At least the sling's navy!” Sara chirped.

“Yes, the sling is appropriately Amish looking.”

“Don't worry about your bike,” Levi said. “I can take it back to the farm if you can drive the truck.”

“That's all well and good, but that leaves me with only a buggy.”

“Buggies are good enough for a lot of people.”

“Hmm, 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.”

“Don't.” I thought out loud, “My car's probably out of the shop by now…”

“Do you want me to pick it up for you?”

“No. Kim probably has by now.”

“I could drive it down.”

“It's in southeast Portland.”

“I need to make a delivery in Portland anyway.”

“How are you going to get there if you're driving the car back?”

“I could take your bike.”

Like that was going to happen. “Nobody rides my bike but me.”

“Really?”

I would have crossed my arms if the action hadn't shot sparks of pain to my shoulder. “Yes. Really.”

“You're getting cranky. Do you need another pain pill?”

“No, I don't need another pain pill. And how would you make a delivery using my bike?”

“It's a box. I could easily put it into a well-padded backpack.”

“You own a furniture store.”

“Yes.”

“And you're delivering a box?”

“If there's one thing they teach you in business, it's diversification.”

“Do you even have your motorcycle endorsement?”

“I do. I've got my own helmet and everything.”

“Good, 'cause you're not wearing mine.”

“Why not?”

“You'd get man cooties on it.”

Sara giggled from the backseat.

“That's enough from you, young lady,” I said. “Man cooties are very serious. They cause all kinds of problems.”

The girlish giggling continued, and I couldn't help but join in. I sobered when I looked at Levi's earnest face.

Yes, man cooties could do all sorts of things. They could make you forget about your boyfriend.

“So,” Sara said, interrupting the moment, “what are we going to tell my parents?”

I shrugged my right shoulder. “I don't know. What are you going to tell them?”

“You're not going to help me?”

“I'm not going to lie to them.”

Sara opened her mouth, shut it, and then crossed her arms.

“She's right, Sara,” Levi said. “Mom can smell a lie twenty feet away. Lies and rock music.”

“She's got a good nose, your mother.”

“Woman's got eight kids,” Levi said. “By now I think she's telepathic. Don't worry about it. I'll come in with you—that'll be distraction enough.”

“How are you going to get back?” I asked. “I mean, after you take Ida's car back to her.”

“I can take your bike, or Ida can drive me home.”

Sara snorted. “And send you with two loaves of bread and a batch of cookies.”

“Oh,” I said with a nod. “Such sacrifice.”

In the end, my wrist brace stole the show. Gideon roundly ignored Levi, Martha hovered around my arm, asking if the brace came off so she could put a poultice on it, but then suggesting maybe putting it on my fingers might help.

Sara all but ducked away to her room.

Smart kid.

I sent Levi out with the keys to the bike, telling him I'd call him about it later. Then I headed to my room to see if the magical phenomenon of cell service happened to be functioning.

For once it was. I dialed Kim's number. “Do you know if anyone's picked up my car yet?”

Kim snorted. “You leave for Amish country, and you're worried about your car?”

“I sprained my wrist—”

“And here I am being a jerk. Bet you can't ride like that. Sorry. Do you need me to drive your car to you?”

“Actually, a friend of mine is going to pick it up.”

“Someone Amish? That's original. I thought they didn't drive.”

“They don't, and no, he's not Amish.”

“
He
? Who is he? How did you meet him? Have you told Shane about him?”

There are disadvantages to being friends with investigative journalists.

“He is the owner of a local Amish-style woodcraft store. It's complicated. His family is Amish and they're the ones I'm staying with.”

“Interesting. And Shane?”

“No.”

“Even more interesting. Why haven't you told Shane?”

“Haven't really had the opportunity,” I hedged. As in, Shane hadn't directly asked about him.

Not that Shane had a reason to, but never mind.

“Anyway, he's going to drive my bike up and I need someone to give him the car. Who picked it up?”

“Joely was going to, but she got called out. It's sitting in my driveway.”

“Can I send him to your place, then?”

“What's his name?”

“Levi Burkholder.”

“Nice strong man name.”

“Whatever. Flirt with him all you like—just let him take the car.”

“So you're not interested?”

“I'm with Shane.”

“Right. Are you leaving the bike here?”

“Hmm.” I thought for a moment. “Would it put you out too much to meet him at my place with my car? That way he could leave the bike there.”

“Good enough for me. Is he cute?”

“I'm not answering that.”

“He is, then.”

“Kim—”

“I know, I know. You're with Shane. I can flirt all I want, and I'm looking forward to it.”

I called Levi moments after, using my window of airtime before the airwaves shifted and I lost reception.

“So she's expecting me?” he asked after I gave him directions to my apartment.

“Expecting” seemed so…subtle. “Yes.”

Next thing I knew, the call dropped. No service.

Part of me wondered if I should have warned him. I mean, if we were golfing, and there was a golf ball headed for his cranium, I would yell “fore” or “heads” or whatever you're supposed to say to warn people on a golf course.

But on the other hand, Kim was single, Levi was single, and they'd probably have lovely sandy-haired children. Bully for them. I had Shane.