Angels at Christmas - By Debbie Macomber Page 0,15

you kindly be quiet and stop giving me orders?" Disgruntled, she brushed the dirt from her backside. So far, so good. Nothing even ached. She could see no scrapes or bruises.

Fletcher shook his head again, his expression one of hopelessness. "Are you always this unreasonable?"

Examining her ten-speed, Julie wanted to weep. It was ruined. "If you didn't hit me, how did this happen?" Maybe he planned to claim his car hadn't touched her bike, but she had evidence that said otherwise.

"If you hit that tree, why aren't you injured?" he snapped.

Julie didn't have an answer for him anymore than he did for her. They stood glaring at each other, both unwilling to back down, when the ambulance, siren blaring, rounded the corner.

Before she could protest, two paramedics had her sitting down. While Fletcher explained what had happened, Julie, under protest, was placed on a stretcher. "Would someone please listen to me," she said as she struggled to sit up. "I'm fine. I don't even have any bruises. I'm not hurt."

The taller of the two paramedics picked up her dented helmet. "You hit that tree?" he asked incredulously.

"I saw it with my own eyes," Fletcher confirmed.

"He saw it because he ran into me," Julie immediately said. He wasn't an innocent bystander in this accident. He'd caused it.

"My car didn't touch her bike."

By this time, the police had arrived, and a cruiser pulled up behind the ambulance. Fletcher scowled at her as if to say this was all her fault, but he'd contacted the authorities. She hadn't wanted to. While the police officer talked to Fletcher, Julie answered the paramedics' questions. When they suggested she be checked out at the hospital, she refused.

"Look," she said, dismissing their concern, "I'm none the worse for wear." The last thing she wanted was to show up at the hospital in an ambulance when she wasn't even hurt.

"You'll have your own doctor examine you?" the second man asked.

"I will," she promised.

"I'll see that she does," Fletcher added.

The policeman knelt down in front of Fletcher's sedan. "I don't see any marks here."

Fletcher looked at Julie, his eyes full of suspicion. "I don't know how to explain what happened, but I swear I didn't hit you."

"Would you stop telling me how innocent you are?" Then it dawned on her that he was afraid she was going to sue him. As a man with deep pockets, he'd be worried about lawsuits.

"Nope, I don't see any evidence here at all," the police officer said, frowning in puzzlement.

Men always stick together, Julie thought irritably. Well, if that was what the police had decided, so be it.

"I'll leave it for you two to settle," the officer said.

"Thank you," Roy told him.

The paramedics climbed back into their vehicle and drove off, and shortly afterward the police car followed.

"Look at my bike!" Julie studied the damage to her ten-speed. The entire back wheel was bent and twisted; the frame had buckled beyond repair.

"I'll buy you another," Fletcher said as he loaded her crumpled bike into the trunk of his car.

"So you are admitting responsibility," she challenged, hands on her hips.

"No," he said in a flat, businesslike tone.

"You don't have to worry. I have no intention of suing you."

He didn't respond as he opened the passenger door. "Get in," he said curtly.

"Where are you taking me?"

"To my personal physician."

"I said I'm not hurt."

"I know what you said. Now are you going to do as I ask, or do I have to put you inside this car myself?"

Julie could see it was pointless to argue; he was determined to do things his way. "Oh, all right," she said with a complete lack of graciousness.

He slipped into the driver's seat and exhaled slowly. "Thank you."

Julie crossed her arms and tried to stifle a laugh.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing." But then she couldn't help it and burst out laughing.

"What?"

"It's you," she said between peals of laughter. "You said 'thank you.' Were you thanking me for sparing you the effort of having to physically lift me?"

"No." He apparently lacked even the most rudimentary sense of humor. "I was thanking you for not putting up any more of a fuss than you already have."

He started the engine. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

Until he asked, she'd totally forgotten. "Dad's lunch. It's on the bike. He forgot it this morning and I was taking it to him." She turned around and looked behind her, wondering if his lunch had somehow survived the collision. "I need to get it to him."

"Your father can go