Page 187 of Modern Romance Collection March 2025 (1-4)

Cold.

Her.

He pulled his hand away and found it sticky and hot with blood. “What happened?” he gritted.

“I’ve been trying to stop the bleeding,” she said. “I know you didn’t hit an artery or you’d be gone by now.”

He looked down and felt a shameful wave of nausea. His leg was… It wasdamagedwas a kind word for it. He could see through to the muscle and bone.

“That isn’t good,” he said.

She looked at him like he was an alien life-form.

“No,” she agreed. “It’s not.”

He realized then that he had a belt around his upper thigh.

“I had to get the bleeding stopped,” Stevie said. “It was a lot of blood.”

He nodded. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head. “Banged up. But miraculously… Okay. I suspect I don’t feel some of the pain because of adrenaline.”

“I guess this is what I get for taking a ride from a stranger.” He tried to laugh.

“I’m sorry. You’re probably gonna miss that wedding.”

“All right.” He didn’t know what else to say. After all, nothing seemed that important.

Not in the face of all this.

“What did you think about?” she asked, her voice muted.

“When?”

“When the plane went down.”

She looked as small and young as he’d first thought. But he hadn’t been worried at all. He hadn’t even given a thought about the plane going down, to the inclement weather being a problem. That his pilot who had been right when he’d landed the private jet, saying he didn’t think smaller aircraft should fly in the weather.

No, he hadn’t worried. He’d seen her, seen an opportunity and thought it was more evidence of everything going his way. As always.

Until the plane had gone down.

“You first,” he said.

She sniffed, and he realized it was from the cold. Not tears. She moved around, opening up boxes, uncovering some blankets, some coats. Part of the cargo that she had.

What brand of woman was this? Hell, what brand ofhumanwas she?

There was no self-pity. No weeping or wailing. She seemed as together, as poised as she had when piloting the plane, and he could not fathom why that was.

“This wasn’t for the wedding,” she said. “It was for a small outdoor outfitter. Thank God that was part of the cargo.” She wrapped herself in a sleeping bag, and then put one over the top of him. “Though it does make me want to ask God why he didn’t just keep us in the sky, since he’s out here providing miracles.” She sighed. “Maybe when you can move a little bit we can get you into the sleeping bag.”

He nodded. “Maybe.”

She sniffed again. “I thought about my father. And how there was no way he was going to be able to take care of my six sisters on disability. And then I thought how he’s probably going to die in six months, and then there will be nobody to take care of them at all. Nobody left to run the business.”

“You support your family?”

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