I tease back. “Since I have no boyfriend at the present, it would only be me kicking your ass and I’m not sure my knee is up to the challenge at the moment.”
He has no noticeable reaction, so maybe I was wrong about the fishing thing.
I clear my throat. “Where am I?”
“My place,” he says in a tone that would suggest that was obvious. I guess it is and maybe that was a stupid question, but it’s not exactly what I was asking.
The question was meant to be, “Why am I here?”
He runs a hand through his hair, and I wonder if he’s been doing that a lot given the state of it. “Because you passed out in my arms after I found you in your car, stuck and bleeding. It’s a blizzard outside, and the nearest hospital might as well be in Canada for how accessible it is in this weather. Honestly, I didn’t know where else to take you. Bringing you here just seemed like the easy call to make.” He shrugs, his tone a bit defensive.
I nod, feeling bad. I didn’t mean for it to come out accusingly. “Thank you for saving me. Who knows what would have happened to me if you hadn’t shown up, Miles.” Then I smile, shaking my head and laughing lightly under my breath. “Wow, it really is you. For a minute or two, I thought I imagined you. It’s been such a long time—”
“You’re welcome, London,” he quickly interjects in a tone I don’t quite understand. It’s not angry, but there is a distinct edge to it and my smile slips instantly into a frown.
Dragging my gaze away from him, I search for my purse. I need to call my parents. Find my car. Get out of his hair, because that’s clearly what he wants. I’ve obviously imposed upon him enough.
I ignore the sour resin that leaves in my mouth and ask, “Did you happen to grab my purse? I’ll just make a couple of calls and be out of your hair in a jiffy.”
“Your phone likely doesn’t have service here if it didn’t where I found you on the highway, but you’re welcome to use mine.”
I sag a little at that. At the fact that my phone still doesn’t have service. It’s a disconcerting feeling. Almost like being stranded. Oh wait, I am stranded.
I want to offer something up to him. An apology maybe. He rescued me and I passed out in his arms and now I’m in his home, taking up his time and space.
But it’s Miles. Miles Ford. I seriously still cannot wrap my head around that. It’s cool and weird and a bit exciting, if I’m being honest.
The fact that he’s a dish of ice cream only makes this crazier.
“London,” he starts, his tone softening, and I instantly look back up, wanting to catalog more of him if only for comparison to my memories. Okay, that’s a half-lie. He’s really great to look at, and let’s be frank here, it’s been a damn long time since just the sight of a guy got me hot under the collar—or panties as the case may be. “You don’t have to feel like you need to leave. You’re hurt and it’s late—already dark. Not to mention the weather outside. I think it’s safe to say, you’re stuck here with me for a bit.”
Oh right. The blizzard.
I nearly forgot all about that.
I was too distracted by his sharp jawline and adorable nerdy glasses that make his blues look even bigger and brighter. Who knew such a thing was possible?
My gaze falls, staring at my hands and I notice the blood covering my shirt. My head swims, but I push it back. “Dammit,” I whisper. “Miles, I’m so unbelievably sorry. I didn’t mean to put you out like this. This is so much more than you bargained for when you stopped to help a stranded motorist. I bet from now on, you’ll think twice before you do such a noble and heroic act.”
He moves closer, demanding my attention. When I glance back up, he’s grinning with that adorable smile I remember from once upon a time. Dimples and all, even through the beard. God, those dimples always killed me.
“You didn’t put me out, London. Nothing to be sorry about. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
I swallow thickly at that. I very nearly was not. He watches me for a moment, his eyes dancing about my face the way mine are with him. Something