Page 70 of Conrad

He landed on his bad hip, the pain a flare. He grunted, bit back a shout. But he ignored it and sat up. Put his hands on her hips. “I got you. Brace yourself on the roof and then unbuckle. I’ll catch you.”

“Don’t let me hurt you.”

Probably too late for that, given the fact that he’d completely ignored common sense and told her about his Zamboni disaster. Talk about letting her inside his soul—see, this was what happened when he led with impulse and maybe his hopes and not his brains.

But she’d told him about her dad, and the story simply made sense. No wonder she had such a tragic history with men. And it had nothing to do with him being an athlete—hello,he saw right through that.

It had to do with him being another human being who could let her down. Betray her—at least in her mind.

“Ready?”

“Let ’er rip.”

She released the buckle and made a tiny noise of panic as she fell. He caught her weight and eased her down into his arms.

“See? Gotcha.”

She sat there for a moment, just holding on to his arms around her. “Sorry.”

“For?”

“Um . . . hello? We’re in the ditch.”

“I think this is more than the ditch. I think we’ve careened into the forest like a snowball.”

“Then I’m super sorry.” She looked up at him. He could barely make out her face in the darkness, but he’d guess tears edged her eyes.

“Not your fault, Pen. I’m not sure if that guy was trying to force you off the road or was just an überbad driver, but totally not. your. fault.”

She nodded then, and he had the craziest urge to?—

No.“Are you hurt?”

“Just bruises.” She pushed away from him and crawled over to her door. “It won’t move.”

He turned and tried his. It creaked open, a crack. He ground his jaw against the pain and kicked it.

It scraped against the snow, but he managed to wedge an opening. Snow billowed in, the wind brisk, casting in flakes.

“The blizzard is catching up with us.”

The dome light hadn’t come on. “Can you find your phone?” he said.

She searched around her seat and then in back. “No. I don’t know. I don’t see my purse either. And it’s too dark to see anything.”

He too had lost his phone, his hands finding a few sandwiches, bottles, but nothing to call for help.

“Okay, let’s see if we can get up to the road, and maybe we can flag down a car.”

“We’re on a county road—I took a shortcut. But we’re still a good ten miles away from the highway.”

He rolled over, pushed himself out of the opening chest first, crawling. He turned, held out his hand. “We’re going to be okay.”

She took his grip and he helped her out.

In the darkness, he didn’t have a clue the damage to her car, but it seemed they’d mowed a swath off the road, because he spotted a dent in the darkness, a shadow that led up to the road.

With the blizzard moving in and the stars gone, they had little time to get to shelter. Maybe they should stay in the car . . .

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