Slowly, I reach for the door handle and pull it open. Big brown eyes lock onto mine. Recognition hits almost instantly.
“You,” she breathes.
“Tire blew?” I ask, keeping my voice calm.
Her gaze darts toward the ditch before returning to me. “Yes.”
“Are you hurt?”
“I don’t think so.”
But her voice shakes badly enough that I don’t believe her.
Lightning cracks somewhere overhead. She startles hard enough that she nearly lunges toward me before catching herself at the last second.
Cute. I shove the thought away immediately.
“You can’t stay here,” I tell her.
Her lips part slightly. Probably because every warning she’s ever heard about me is currently flashing through her head.
Smart woman.
Still, after a second, she nods.
“Okay.”
I step back and hold out my hand. “Come on, London.”
Another flash of surprise crosses her face. “You know who I am?”
My fingers curl impatiently against the cold. “Everyone in town knows who you are.”
It’s true. The pretty librarian/welcome center guide/postmaster with the nervous smile and impractical taste in winter boots became Swift Mountain’s favorite topic almost as quickly as she arrived.
Not that I paid attention. Much.
She stares at my hand for half a second before finally placing hers in it. I nearly flinch.
Jesus. Her fingers are freezing.
“You’ve been sitting here long?” I ask.
“I don’t know.” Her teeth chatter slightly. “Twenty minutes? Maybe thirty?”
Too long in weather like this.
The second she steps out of the SUV, the wind nearly knocks her sideways. I catch her automatically, one arm wrapping around her waist before she can lose her footing completely.
She lets out a startled sound and grabs the front of my jacket. My grip tightens instinctively while snow whips around us.
“You okay?” I ask.
She nods too quickly. “Yep. Totally fine. Love standing in the middle of mountain blizzards. It’s one of my favorite hobbies, actually.”
Despite myself, my mouth almost twitches. Almost.
“Truck’s this way.”