along the nearby shore.
The car had spun off the bottom of the ramp. Tanner eased around the corner and idled the cruiser, lights flashing. Pulling his hat and gloves on, he hurried across the quickly deepening snow, his flashlight aimed ahead.
The bright beam outlined a silver Chevy that looked familiar. And inside, watching him, was Zach Harrison’s sister, Julia.
He tried to wrench her door open. Nothing happened.
She stared up at him, her gaze trusting.
“Can you open the window, Julia?” He shouted the words over the rush of wind.
She shook her head.
He tried to circle the car, but the passenger side was tipped down into the snow, lodged against the embankment. No access there.
He came around front again and called Zach’s phone. Julia’s brother answered right away. “Julia’s had an accident, she’s trapped, she’s not in danger, doesn’t appear to be badly hurt, but I need her cell phone number. I can’t talk to her through the window, the storm’s too loud. And then get over here, we’re at Exit 8, northbound on Lower Lake Road.”
Zach rattled off the number. Tanner heard him hit the siren before he disconnected, and the sound of an approaching ambulance or rescue vehicle told Tanner help was on the way.
He dialed her number and waggled his cell phone for her to see.
She looked startled when her phone rang, groped for it, then shook her head, dismayed.
She can’t find the phone.
He tried again, hoping the ring tone would help her locate the cell. This time she zeroed in on the noise, stretched, and when she sat back up, the look of triumph on her face said she had the phone.
Yes.
He dialed again and she answered quickly. “I’m stuck.”
The nonstressed tone of her voice said he wasn’t dealing with a typical accident victim, and the look she sent his way, an almost comical look of pleading, said she’d wait for him to rescue her without hysterics.
He liked that.
“Make sure your locks are disengaged from inside.”
“I did that. Everything’s unlocked. Or should be.”
“Try again. Electrical systems can get whacked in an accident.”
He saw her hit the button to disengage the locks. She frowned at the door and hit the button again. “It’s not responding.”
She glared at the console, firmed her chin and stabbed the unlock button with vengeance.
Click.
Tanner caught her smile of success. He spoke into the phone but kept his gaze trained on hers to make sure she understood. “I’m going to climb on top and pull the door. Gravity and the wind will fight me. Are you trapped or can you move to climb out?”
“I can move.”
“Okay, when I pull the door, you push it up as hard as you can from inside. Okay?”
“Roger that.”
“We don’t use radio talk on phones, Julia,” he teased, wanting to match her mood. “Every newbie knows that.”
“I’m taking it under advisement,” she told him. “Umm, I think you should hang up the phone now and rescue me.”
“Agreed.”
He climbed up the front of the car, moved into position, then reached down and gripped the door handle. He squeezed hard and pulled.
The wind fought him.
The almost upright angle and weight of the door made his task difficult under good conditions. In frigid temps, it was almost impossible.
He wanted her out of the car and in a warm, safe place, fast.
The door moved up.
He clenched tight, bracing himself, because if he lost his grip while Julia climbed out and the door slammed back down, he could seriously hurt her.
He heard a voice, and then he saw gloved fingers, grasping the back side of the driver’s door frame. First one hand, then two.
A wind gust buffeted him, jerking him to the left. His foot slipped on a slick spot, but he held tight. Come on, Julia, grab hold. Climb out. Hang on.
An arm followed. And then the second arm, grabbing hold of the back door handle, pulling hard.
Her head appeared, then disappeared for long, slow seconds.
That meant something wasn’t right. A caught leg, a foot turned wrong.
She disappeared back into the car while Tanner struggled to hold the door open.
The hands appeared again. Then the head, her blond hair whipping in the wind.
This time she made it through the opening, onto the car and slid down into the snow, free.
He let the door down easy, not wanting to rock the car over, then slid down into the snow next to her.
“You’re hurt.” He stood quickly, hauled her up and pulled her toward his car.
She tried to say something, but the storm stole her words. He tucked her into the front seat of the warm cruiser, circled around and climbed in next to her as the rescue vehicle came into view. He paused, letting heat seep into both of them. “Let me see your face.”
“Scratched, banged and bruised, but otherwise unscathed,” she assured him, but he reached over, grasped her chin gently and turned her face his way.
* * *
He’s got gorgeous gray eyes. The kind a girl could get lost in if she had a mind to. Fortunately, I have no such desire.
Hat-matted, snow-flecked hair. Was it dark? Light? She couldn’t tell because the dampness made it look dark in the uneven light of the police cruiser.
Square-jawed. Fierce, almost taut features, but as he examined her for damage, the look in his eyes said this warrior had a soft side he hid well.
And that was a relief, because she’d come close to giving him a good, swift kick back in the future pregnancy center.
His broad hands were chilled but gentle. His gaze probed her eyes, and for just a moment she wondered what it would be like to have Trooper Tanner locking eyes with her when he wasn’t searching for signs of concussion.
“Headache?”
She shook her head, then shrugged. “Well. A little.”
“This hurt much?” He touched
