The Playboy's Proposal (Sorensen Family)(17)

"Fine, Nate. Just a bump on the head, I think. Nothing serious."

She might beg to differ with him. "You might have a concussion, Henry. Let me just check you out." She looked up at Nate, who she assumed was some kind of manager at the club. "I'm afraid we left our golf bags back at the driving range. Do you think-"

"Of course. I'll have someone retrieve them right away and have them placed in Mr. Ellison's car for him." The man hurried away.

Wow, that was easier than she would have thought. Money did have its privileges.

She turned to Henry again. His brows were scrunched up, and he was looking a little dazed now. "I'm sorry. Have we met before?"   





 

Her stomach sank. It was much worse than she thought.

She was a menace. That was all there was to it.

She placed her hand over his and lifted his hair up from his forehead to look at the damage. No laceration, but there was swelling and a red mark from where the club had hit him.

"You really don't remember? I'm Benny. Your neighbor." She bit her lip, unsure how to proceed as she stared into his brown eyes.

The pupils were even, no dilation. That was good. In fact, his eyes were shining a little too brightly. Henry's lips trembled then, almost like he was trying not to-

"You jerk." She slugged him just as a chortle shot from his mouth.

"The look on your face was priceless," he said and rubbed his arm. "But you do carry quite a punch, so take it easy, slugger."

"Serves you right. But I am serious about the concussion. Here." She held her hand out. "Take it. I need to test your strength. Okay. Squeeze. Next hand."

Ten minutes later, she was somewhat mollified that Henry wasn't suffering severe brain damage, but from his stumble and his concession that he did have a mild headache, she hadn't ruled out the possibility of a concussion.

"We should get you to the ER to be examined, just in case," she said as he swallowed the two Tylenol the club had provided at her request.

"Absolutely not. What would they tell me that you can't confirm yourself? I know a little something about concussions. I may have suffered one or two back in my Little League days. All they'd suggest is that I take it easy, not do anything too strenuous over the next few days, and if I feel any sort of confusion, dizziness, increased headache, that sort of thing, to get myself more thoroughly examined. All of which I can do without going to the hospital."

He stood up, and two seconds later, sat back down. "No. That was nothing. Just a little head rush from coming to my feet too fast."

She sighed. "Well, we should get you home, at any rate. But you should know, for the next twelve hours, I'm not letting you out of my sight. You shouldn't be left alone in case your symptoms worsen."

"I'll be fine. I don't need a nursemaid."

"Sure. And when I come by in the morning to see how you're doing and find you either comatose or dead, having suffered massive brain swelling or bleeding, that will be of some comfort to me. To Ella."

He quirked up a brow, probably about to deliver some zinger about not knowing that she cared, but his effect was diminished when he flinched and raised his hand to touch the growing goose egg.

She couldn't resist a tiny smirk. "See?" She came to her feet and held her hand out to him to offer assistance. "In fact, I think it only makes sense, considering your dizziness and lack of equilibrium, that I drive us home."

"You think you're up to it? That's a lot of power."

"I went to medical school. How hard can it be?"





Chapter Ten

Okay. So up to now, had anyone asked Benny whether she thought the bloated prices that people paid for flashy sports cars like Ferraris were insane, she'd have agreed and added it was a ridiculous display of money and conceit for those who might be compensating for  something.

At least up until they reached the freeway and the slightest touch of the gas had her cruising at a dangerously heart-stopping speed-for Benny, anyway. Her adrenaline was pumping, and she had the crazy notion to throw back her head and laugh maniacally, even as the wind was making fast work of messing up her tidy ponytail.

"You do realize what the actual posted speed limit is," Henry said from the passenger seat.

She pulled a piece of hair from her mouth. "Yeah. Guess I should take it down a notch." Only  wow. The way the car rode was so smooth that the temptation to take it higher was intoxicating.

But common sense prevailed, and she eased up on the gas a smidge. She grinned a little wildly over at Henry. "Had I known driving this thing could be this much fun, I might be the proud owner of a shiny new Ferrari. Even if I would have to curl up in the front seat in a sleeping bag every night since I couldn't afford to live anywhere else. How much does something like this actually set you back? Wait. No. I don't want to know."

"If you're really enjoying it that much, why don't we take it for a longer spin? Maybe to Vegas? We could be there in five hours. Four at the rate you're going now."

"The idea is tantalizing  " She imagined the purring motor as they cruised at a steady one hundred miles per hour on the freeway, or driving down the Las Vegas Strip with the top down and feeling like a million bucks, like she owned the world, maybe having a turn at the slots or taking in a show. But   "Unfortunately, I have work bright and early in the morning, so taking off like that isn't an option. It is Sunday."   





 

As soon as she said the words, she cringed. Crap. She'd nearly forgotten.

"Actually"-she risked a sideway glance at him-"I should mention that I have a standing dinner invitation this evening, and since I am not letting you out of my sight"-she had nearly killed him, after all-"I'm afraid you better get used to the idea that you're coming along."

"Standing dinner plans? That does sound intriguing. Where are we going?"

"My parents'. For Sunday dinner. It's tradition."

"Seriously? People actually do that? I thought that only existed in television shows like The Waltons and Parenthood. How  quaint."

Quaint? Good Lord, this was going to be a disaster.

Henry Ellison in her family home while her brothers played their usual head games like they had with all of her-okay, mostly Daisy's-dates. Not that this is a date!

Any other Sunday dinner, under these circumstances of playing Henry Ellison's nursemaid, she'd beg off. But her older brother and his new wife had just returned from their Mexican honeymoon, so everyone was going to be there to welcome them home.

Bailing just wasn't an option.

"Whatever you do, let's not mention to anyone the role you're playing in my little scheme. Not a word about makeovers or Luke Seeley. Got it?"

He glanced at her, the picture of a saint. Then he grinned widely, his eyes twinkling in anticipation, and she fought a nervous dread compounded by something a little more  excited.

"Let's just see if you're still grinning when this night is over."

 

Despite the dozen or so girls that Henry had dated in high school, he didn't have a lot of experience when it came to meeting parents and brothers and sisters and all that might constitute a family. Up until he left his mother's house at eighteen, the girls he'd dated had usually-not to brag-come to him. Showed up at his house because they were curious to see where he lived and what it was like to step foot in the massive mausoleum, maybe even catch a glimpse of the mysterious Margaret Brighton. Those rare dates when he did pick someone up, they came running out the door before he'd stepped out of his car.

So he wasn't exactly sure what was in store for him when they pulled up to Benny's parents' modest ranch-style home, where a driveway of cars told him most-if not all-of her family was already inside.

"Don't be nervous, everything will be fine," Benny told him, her voice barely a whisper as she hopped out of the car.

"Should I be?" he asked, joining her on the sidewalk. He eyed the sexy white capris she'd changed into, the sleeveless navy blouse with more pretty embroidery around the neck, and the black heeled sandals. She had really gotten the hang of this fashion thing. And a few other things.

All while keeping her sass.

He smiled and waited for her response.

The slight smile and furrow of her brows gave him the distinct impression she was looking on him with sympathy, which immediately made him curious. Before he could question it, the front door was thrown open and two young girls with long dark brown hair and bright smiles looked at them expectantly. He wasn't an expert, but he'd guess they were probably a handful of years older than his own niece.

"Everyone was here ages ago, Aunt Benny," the older one said. "We have Twister set up in the family room, but no one will play with us. Uncle Dominic said to ask you."

"I'll bet he did," Benny said and stepped inside.

But the younger little girl hadn't stopped looking at him, and her smile had now widened into a grin. "Are you my aunt Benny's boyfriend?"

The clatter from the back of the house he'd heard when they first stepped inside had suddenly gone suspiciously quiet.

Before he could articulate a response, Benny hurried in, her voice loud and clear. "Of course not, Natalie. This is Mr. Ellison. He lives next door to me and he might be suffering a minor concussion from earlier today, so I insisted he have dinner with us."