Rescued By Mr. Wrong. Cynthia Thomason

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СКАЧАТЬ this Christmas Day was something of an emergency. His neighbor Duke struggling to cope with memory loss associated with his eighty-six years, had forgotten to order his heart medication, and he needed to take it every day, or... Well, even Keegan didn’t want to be responsible for that.

      So Keegan had called Duke’s doctor and discovered that the MD had some samples of Duke’s meds in his home. Keegan then ventured out in the snow to pick up a couple of pills. What had started out as a short twelve-mile journey to town in light snowfall had now become an hour’s pain-in-the-neck trek in blizzard conditions.

      “Lake-effect snow,” Keegan muttered to himself. A person never knew when it would do its worst, but that was the chance he took living on the shore of Lake Erie. Thank goodness his seven-year-old Chevy Tahoe—with its 350 horses, V-8 engine and two tons of steel on a truck chassis—could barrel through almost anything.

      He slowed for the curve about a mile from the abandoned Cedar Woods Campground where Keegan lived in the old camp store and Duke lived in a small trailer. Through the whiteout conditions, Keegan managed to see a pair of red taillights glowing faintly from a mound of snow left by an earlier plow. He braked to a crawl and stopped behind the motorist who’d obviously lost his mind to be out in this weather on a holiday. Especially without a “blizzard beast” like the Tahoe.

      Getting out of his vehicle, Keegan walked around to the driver’s side of the compact car. A few more minutes and the ridiculous little two-seater might have been buried in a mini avalanche, leaving the driver to become a human popsicle.

      Pulling his jacket collar around his ears where his ball cap stopped short of providing protection, Keegan approached the driver’s window. Snow had accumulated, but it was light and dusty, not the kind that sticks the moment it lands. He brushed off the snow with his heavily gloved hand and peered inside.

      Besides a mound of wrapped packages, only one person was in the automobile—a woman, slumped over the limp remains of an air bag, and one who apparently didn’t have the sense to listen to a weather forecast before venturing out on a day like this. Even more astounding, the gal had left her window partially opened and snow was settling on her shoulders and head.

      “Lady!” Keegan called. “Lady, are you okay?”

      She wasn’t. Keegan saw a faint stream of red coming from her forehead. He’d seen enough head injuries in his day to know the possibility of serious complications. He tried the door. Locked. With about four inches of opening to work with, he slipped off his glove and stuck his hand in the window, wiggling his arm downward to the door lock. Thank goodness he was able to reach the button and pull it up.

      He opened the car door. The woman didn’t move. Her breathing seemed labored. “Darned air bag must have knocked the wind out of her,” Keegan said aloud. He’d never thought they were a good idea. He wasn’t crazy about seat belts either, especially now when he had to work his fingers through deflated nylon to free the woman.

      The seat belt latch clicked, and the woman moaned and tried to sit upright. She managed to turn her head and stared with partially closed eyes at Keegan. Those eyes popped wide open instantly. Visibility was poor, but he figured she’d seen enough to be freaked out by his appearance, so he backed up a step. Meticulous grooming wasn’t at the top of his list of priorities these days.

      She stuck out her hand and pounded his chest with a weak fist. “Leave me alone,” she said.

      Keegan leaned in the car door. “If I do, you’ll freeze to death out here. And you have a head injury.”

      She struggled to take a breath. “I do?”

      “Yes, and who knows what else is wrong. You’ve driven your car into a snowbank and hit one of our scenic telephone poles.”

      She continued staring at him as if he were her worst nightmare. “Call an ambulance,” she said.

      “You don’t want me to do that. If I call for an ambulance, it would take forever in this weather for it to reach us. Plus, we’d be putting the drivers at risk. Your best bet is to go with me.”

      “Go with you? I don’t even know you.”

      “I don’t know you either, but I’m willing to take the risk,” the man said. “Now, let’s get you out of that car, so we can get you medical help. You could have serious injuries.”

      “I do,” she said through gritted teeth. “I think I broke my leg.”

      * * *

      CARRIE FELT LIKE a knife had sliced into her calf. She touched her head and stared at the sticky red mess on her fingers. Definitely bleeding, but the cold was slowing it down some. What was she going to do now? Miles from nowhere, a broken leg, a damaged head, an asthma attack, and no one but this large, grisly-looking man to help her. His hair reached his shoulders, and he looked like he hadn’t shaved in a month.

      Mr. Grisly leaned on the roof of her car. “Do you live around here?” he asked.

      She could honestly answer that she didn’t. She was still at least two hours from home and four hours from her Michigan address. But maybe she should lie. What good would that do? Even if her car wasn’t wrecked, she didn’t know if she’d be able to drive anywhere. Why couldn’t it have been her left leg that was injured?

      “No,” she said. “I live in Michigan.”

      “No one you know in this area?”

      She shook her head, knowing if she gave her father’s name, he would never let her forget her foolish decision.

      “Then I guess you’re stuck with me.” He reached his arms into her car, pushing back the remains of the air bag. With a skillful and surprisingly gentle touch, he probed her arms and legs. “I don’t think anything else is broken. So come on. We’re going to the hospital.”

      Did she want to add stupidity to her list of problems? She didn’t know this guy. Think, Carrie. Drawing in a sharp breath of pain, she said, “I don’t even know your name.”

      He exhaled a frosty breath. “Keegan Breen.”

      “I don’t know if I trust you.”

      “Look, I’m not going to hurt you. Truthfully, I’m not that crazy about helping you. I was on my way home and looking forward to a fireplace and roasting some hot dogs.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “It is Christmas, you know.”

      “How far is the hospital?” she asked.

      “Twenty minutes, maybe more in this weather.” He looked out her windshield. “I think it’s let up a little in the time we’ve been talking.” Wiggling his fingers, he added, “Let’s go, buttercup. Grab hold.”

      There was something calm about his voice, almost soothing. And anyway, what other choice did she have but to trust him? She couldn’t stay in an automobile that didn’t even have a working heater anymore. She wrapped her hands around each of his forearms and let him do the heavy lifting. He pushed his hand under her rump and had her out of the car and safely tucked against his chest in a matter of moments. The change in position made the pain in her leg worse. She bit her lip to keep from screaming out.

      He started walking toward a monster car of some type. “Wait,” she said. “My purse. My inhaler. My glasses. They probably fell off the dashboard when I hit the pole.”

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