Rachel retorted. “Drew Lavery set me up and now he has to live with the consequences.”
Gina winced. “You’re not going to hit him again, are you?”
Rachel swallowed as she sat down in a wing chair. “I didn’t hit him. Well, all right, I did, but with a snowball. A nice, soft snowball. How was I to know he was a bleeder?”
“You drew blood?” Pam asked in astonishment, setting the bags on the floor. “When? Where? How did this happen?”
Gina plopped down on the sofa. “It happened after the show on Thursday. You can find all the gory details in yesterday’s newspaper under the headline Mayor Assaulted By Therapist.”
“I didn’t assault him,” Rachel insisted. “I threw a snowball at him. Unfortunately he turned at just the wrong moment, so it hit him in the face. Then his nose started to bleed...” She threw her hands up in the air. “It barely bled at all.”
Pam crinkled her brow. “That’s it? That hardly sounds like enough material for a newspaper story. Must have been a slow news day.”
Rachel squirmed in her chair. “Well, that’s not exactly the whole story.” She cleared her throat. “It seems Drew is a little squeamish about blood.”
“He passed out,” Gina announced. “And hit his head on the ice. Somebody called the paramedics and they took him away in the ambulance. The hospital called in a specialist, but after a couple of hours they determined he just had a slight concussion and released him.”
Pam gazed at Rachel with an expression of horror on her face. “You gave him a concussion?”
“Yes, I gave him a concussion,” Rachel exclaimed. “And I already feel awful about it. I didn’t mean to hit him in the face. Or draw blood. It all just sort of...”
“Snowballed?” Gina concluded.
Pam smothered a burst of laughter behind her hand. “Oh, Rach, this is awful. I can’t believe he still wants to go out with you.”
“Me, neither,” Rachel muttered, remembering how awful it felt to see Drew, her victim, stretched out on a gurney in the emergency room, his handsome face so frighteningly pale. He hadn’t even opened his eyes when she’d apologized. But his lips had moved. She’d bent down to hear his weak whisper, hoping for forgiveness.
Instead he’d whispered, “Saturday night at eight.”
Barely conscious and still trying to tell her what to do. Still, Rachel did feel guilty about making him suffer. The least she could do was suffer through one date.
Pam pulled a green dress out of one of the bags. “Lucky for you, I brought the perfect dress to make it up to him. Believe me, this little number will reveal enough skin to make him forget all your violent tendencies.”
“I don’t look good in green,” Rachel said, bending down to relace her white Nikes.
“Then how about my blue cocktail dress,” Gina suggested. “You look dynamite in blue.”
Rachel scowled up at her. “You’re five inches shorter than me and two sizes smaller. I’d need the Jaws of Life to get myself in and out of that dress.”
Gina grinned. “Maybe Drew can help you get out of it.”
“If he’s still not too woozy from the concussion,” Pam added. “Of course, the right motivation may help speed up the healing process. You could be just what the doctor ordered.”
“Hold it right there,” Rachel warned, straightening up before they could go any further. “I’ll say it one more time. This is not a real date. I don’t think Drew even likes me very much.”
“Then why did he kiss you?” Gina asked.
Pam’s eyes widened. “He kissed you? When? Where? Why didn’t you call and tell me all of this, Rachel? How come I’m out of the loop?”
Rachel really didn’t want to talk about that kiss, but she knew her sister wouldn’t stop badgering her until she knew every last detail. “Because I’m trying to forget the whole ugly incident. And I figured you read about it in the newspaper like everybody else in this city.”
“They reported the kiss in
Gina winced. “You’re not going to hit him again, are you?”
Rachel swallowed as she sat down in a wing chair. “I didn’t hit him. Well, all right, I did, but with a snowball. A nice, soft snowball. How was I to know he was a bleeder?”
“You drew blood?” Pam asked in astonishment, setting the bags on the floor. “When? Where? How did this happen?”
Gina plopped down on the sofa. “It happened after the show on Thursday. You can find all the gory details in yesterday’s newspaper under the headline Mayor Assaulted By Therapist.”
“I didn’t assault him,” Rachel insisted. “I threw a snowball at him. Unfortunately he turned at just the wrong moment, so it hit him in the face. Then his nose started to bleed...” She threw her hands up in the air. “It barely bled at all.”
Pam crinkled her brow. “That’s it? That hardly sounds like enough material for a newspaper story. Must have been a slow news day.”
Rachel squirmed in her chair. “Well, that’s not exactly the whole story.” She cleared her throat. “It seems Drew is a little squeamish about blood.”
“He passed out,” Gina announced. “And hit his head on the ice. Somebody called the paramedics and they took him away in the ambulance. The hospital called in a specialist, but after a couple of hours they determined he just had a slight concussion and released him.”
Pam gazed at Rachel with an expression of horror on her face. “You gave him a concussion?”
“Yes, I gave him a concussion,” Rachel exclaimed. “And I already feel awful about it. I didn’t mean to hit him in the face. Or draw blood. It all just sort of...”
“Snowballed?” Gina concluded.
Pam smothered a burst of laughter behind her hand. “Oh, Rach, this is awful. I can’t believe he still wants to go out with you.”
“Me, neither,” Rachel muttered, remembering how awful it felt to see Drew, her victim, stretched out on a gurney in the emergency room, his handsome face so frighteningly pale. He hadn’t even opened his eyes when she’d apologized. But his lips had moved. She’d bent down to hear his weak whisper, hoping for forgiveness.
Instead he’d whispered, “Saturday night at eight.”
Barely conscious and still trying to tell her what to do. Still, Rachel did feel guilty about making him suffer. The least she could do was suffer through one date.
Pam pulled a green dress out of one of the bags. “Lucky for you, I brought the perfect dress to make it up to him. Believe me, this little number will reveal enough skin to make him forget all your violent tendencies.”
“I don’t look good in green,” Rachel said, bending down to relace her white Nikes.
“Then how about my blue cocktail dress,” Gina suggested. “You look dynamite in blue.”
Rachel scowled up at her. “You’re five inches shorter than me and two sizes smaller. I’d need the Jaws of Life to get myself in and out of that dress.”
Gina grinned. “Maybe Drew can help you get out of it.”
“If he’s still not too woozy from the concussion,” Pam added. “Of course, the right motivation may help speed up the healing process. You could be just what the doctor ordered.”
“Hold it right there,” Rachel warned, straightening up before they could go any further. “I’ll say it one more time. This is not a real date. I don’t think Drew even likes me very much.”
“Then why did he kiss you?” Gina asked.
Pam’s eyes widened. “He kissed you? When? Where? Why didn’t you call and tell me all of this, Rachel? How come I’m out of the loop?”
Rachel really didn’t want to talk about that kiss, but she knew her sister wouldn’t stop badgering her until she knew every last detail. “Because I’m trying to forget the whole ugly incident. And I figured you read about it in the newspaper like everybody else in this city.”
“They reported the kiss in
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