“Last time I checked.”
“You own this place or something?” I close my eyes, rubbing my temples.
This is so embarrassing.
“Do you have a headache?” he asks, his voice laced with concern.
“A small one, but I don’t think it’s from the fall.”
“Do you want to try to stand?”
“Yes, please.”
The man pushes to his feet and holds his hand out for me to grab. Slowly, he helps me up, but the second I put pressure on my ankle, I feel a throb.
Hissing, I grit my teeth. “I think I may have twisted my ankle.”
“Let’s go take a look.” Guiding my arm over his shoulder, he wraps his arm around my waist and helps me hobble over to a nearby picnic table.
“What’s your name?” he asks as we move slowly across the tented area.
“Zee.”
“Zee? That’s not a name. That’s a letter,” he teases.
“It’s short for Elizabeth.” I hiss again as my good foot steps on a rock and slides slightly against the dirt. “What’s yours?”
“Miller. Miller Ryan.”
“So the man making fun of my name has a last name for a first name. Sounds about right.”
He grins, and my heart does a weird flip-flop.
“Easy does it,” he coaxes, guiding me down to the bench. When I’m seated, he turns my body to prop my leg up, then proceeds to unzip my boot.
Reaching for my wool sock, he pulls it down. “Is this okay?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “Go ahead.”
“Is she alright?” the woman at the other table calls out to Miller.
He feels around at various parts of my ankle, looking at it carefully as he alternates pressures, gauging my reaction. “Yeah, Tamar. I think she’ll survive it.”
“Doesn’t need emergency surgery? A tourniquet?” I tease, my thoughts drifting back to Lincoln. Maybe I should ask him to look at it.
Pulling my sock back in place, Miller lets the elastic gently snap against my skin. “An ice pack should suffice. I’ll be right back.”
“Okay, thank you.” I smile up at him as he stands, and watch him walk away, wondering why there’s a heaviness in me with every step he takes.
He peeks over his shoulder a couple of times, grinning whenever our eyes meet, until finally, he turns past a line of trees, in the direction of the snack bar, and then out of my sight.
Chapter Ten
There’s a strange sensation in my stomach whirling around as I walk away from the woman who just managed to topple over almost an entire line of Christmas trees.
Interestingly enough, I secured the extension cord with a rubber mat, specifically so no one would trip over it, but she somehow found a small part of it that wasn’t covered.
Bad luck? Or is this typical for the woman with a letter for a name?
