Glazed eyes barely blinked.
Okay, this was not good. The man had a head injury and couldn’t get out of the car. And it was likely her text hadn’t gone through.
Thunder rumbled. Rain kept up a steady swoosh. Flashes of lightning radiated through the night sky.
She did not want to make that trip back up to the road.
“Will you be all right while I go to my car and try to call again? I left my cell up there.” Stupid decision but water and cell phones didn’t mix. She should know. She’d knocked one into the shampoo bowl before and that had cost a pretty penny to replace. “With the storm moving on, I might be able to get through.”
“Yeah.”
As Cassie pulled at the passenger door, an iron grip manacled her wrist. She whipped around.
“What’s your name?”
She stared down at his fingers. For a wounded man, he was strong! “I’m Cassie. What’s yours?”
“What happened?”
There again the hint that he was more injured than he let on.
“You’ve had an accident.” Gently she wiggled her wrist but he held fast. “What’s your name?”
Not a bad idea to know in case he went unconscious again before emergency help arrived. You could never tell about head injuries.
“Monroe.” Did his voice sound slurred? “Heath Monroe.”
It fit him. Masculine. Strong. She tugged against his powerful grip. “You can turn loose now.”
Slowly, he shook his head.
“Cassie.” The way he said it sent a little tremor down her spine. He moistened his lips and swallowed. “Don’t go.”
His fingers went slack. Definitely addled.
“Hang tight, Heath, I’ll be right back. Promise.”
As good as her word, she was back in minutes. This time she’d tucked her cell phone inside a plastic shopping bag and brought it along. Just in case.
By the time she returned, he’d removed his seat belt and was rummaging in the console. The deployed air bag draped over his lap like an enormous melted marshmallow. Maybe that explained his confusion. An air bag packed a wallop.
She slammed the door, grateful to be inside again. The wet cold seeped into her bones.
“I made contact with my brother. He knows the area. He’ll get help and bring them here.”
The man’s head dropped back against the headrest, eyes drifting closed. Whatever he’d been rummaging for was forgotten. He was still as pale as toothpaste. “Good.”
“It could take a while. We’re deep in the woods.”
He rolled his head toward her. Beneath the dome light, his eyes were green like hers, though darker and more intense. The knowledge gave Cassie a funny feeling, as if they were connected somehow. “How far to Whisper Falls?”
Talking seemed to take more effort than it should.
“The town or the waterfall?”
“What?”
He was either addled or a total stranger to the area. “Whisper Falls is both a waterfall and a small town up here in the Ozarks. It’s a long story but basically the town council decided to rename the town for the waterfall to attract tourists.”
“And other things,” he murmured, a statement which made her wonder all over again about his mental acuity.
“The falls is north of town, not far from where I live. The town itself is another six miles east. If you’re headed to town, you missed the turn.” Which made her wonder—why would a stranger be driving into Whisper Falls at this hour of the night?
Though the heater pumped out a warm hiss, it wasn’t enough to penetrate the wet chill that had settled over her skin. Cassie shivered.
“You’re cold.”
“I’ll live.” She hugged herself, rubbing her hands up and down on her goose-bumped arms. She had a sudden memory of accident victims needing a blanket to keep from going into shock. Or something like that. There was no blanket available, but she had a suitcase full of clothes in the car. She could cover him with a sweater or two. “Are you warm enough?”
He didn’t answer. He’d closed his eyes again and gotten quiet. Cassie fretted. Had his pallor increased? Was he asleep or unconscious? Remembering all the movies in which sleep was bad for a head injury, Cassie thought she should keep him talking. If there was one thing other than haircuts Cassie was good at, it was talking. “How’s the leg?”
His eyelids fluttered but he didn’t move otherwise. “Numb. Stuck. Frustrating.”
“That’s an understatement.” She’d always been a talker, but years as a hairdresser had honed the skill. As her brother, Austin, often said, she could talk to a fence post. He should know. She talked to him, a man who’d rather have a stick in the eye as to carry on a conversation. “Do you hurt anywhere? Any other injuries you can determine?”
“A little headache.”
“Little? Or one of those headaches where a burly construction worker is slamming your brains with a hammer?”
“Yeah. Rattled my brains.” He drew in a shuddering breath, wincing at the effort. Something else hurt whether he acknowledged it or not. “Careless. I’m a better driver than that.”
Now they were getting somewhere. An entire coherent thought.
Encouraged, Cassie pushed on. “Male pride. You sound like my brother when a horse throws him.”
One corner of Heath’s mouth moved the slightest bit as if he wanted to engage but didn’t quite have the energy. “Cowboy?”
“Austin’s a rancher. His place is a few more miles up this road and then back down a gravel road another mile and a half. Or did I tell you that already?”
“Boonies.”
The comment was both apt and revealing. “Where are you from, Heath? Are you a city boy?”
He went silent again though Cassie was pretty sure he was conscious. It was as if he had to think about his answers. Either he’d had his memory knocked sideways or he was avoiding the question, something that made no sense. The headache must be taking a toll on his thought processes.
Finally, as though his mouth was parched, he moistened his lips again and muttered, “Houston.”
“Texas?”
He managed a wry glance, one eyebrow arched the tiniest bit. “Is there any other?”
Good. He was sounding better. Texans were a proud lot.
“Surprised,
