Page 4 of Hidden
But that was his issue to deal with. Right now, he had a movie star to take care of. “Let’s get to my truck. I’ll come back for your stuff while you warm up in the cab.”
She blanched. “I, um, well, I didn’t really pack a bag. I didn’t bring much, but what I did is just tossed in the back of the car.”
His gaze darted to the back seat. He didn’t see anything so assumed she meant the far back. “Not a problem,” he replied. “Can you unlatch your seat belt and put your coat on?”
Her eyes flitted over his face. Then she gave a small shake of her head. As if reminding herself of something rather than in response to his question.
Instead of answering, she did as he suggested. When she leaned forward to pull her coat around her back, he reached out to help, his fingers brushing the weave of her cashmere sweater. A sweater almost as soft as her hair. Which was a thought he had no intention of pursuing.
Once she had the coat in place, she reached up to pull her hair out from under the heavy garment then winced. A wince he didn’t miss.
“I’ll get it,” he said, arresting her movement with a hand on her arm.
“I can,” she insisted.
“I’m sure you can. But it’s easier, and less painful, for me to do it.”
The silky strands slid over his palm and through his fingers as he lifted it from under the back of her coat. And yes, it was every bit as soft as her sweater. So much for not entertainingthatthought.
“I wasn’t driving that fast, and I’m not hurt.”
He arched a brow as he pulled his hat off and tugged it onto her head. “The slide and spin may have increased your speed. You were probably going faster than you think. Youdon’tlook any worse for wear”—a huge understatement—“but you will be sore. And don’t argue about the hat,” he added as she opened her mouth.
She snapped it shut, and her gaze drifted to the world behind him. She inhaled. “Okay, let’s get going or we’re both going to freeze to death. And thank you, by the way. I haven’t said that yet. But thank you for stopping and helping.”
Rather than respond, he held out his hand. She glanced at his upturned palm, then curled her delicate fingers into his.
Yeah, as far as rescues went, this was turning out to be one of the more interesting ones.
CHAPTER TWO
Ellie leaned into Asher, his arm wrapped around her waist, as they made their way up theshort embankment. Dark thoughts swirled in her head about her accident, but she pushed them aside and focused on being grateful. Grateful that her accident had been spotted. Grateful that Asher had stopped. Grateful that he also happened to be a doctor. And perhaps, most of all, and maybe a little selfishly, grateful that her Good Samaritan was a Warwick.
She’d not met Asher before, but based on Sofia’s accounts, every single one of the Warwicks were good people. And with a former president and a very famous country singer in the family, they knew a thing or two about privacy. She wouldn’t have to worry about any…complications related to her fame.
They reached the crest of the small hill, and she caught a glimpse of Asher’s truck. He’d left the engine rumbling, and she shivered at the thought of climbing into a nice warm cab.
“I should have given you my jacket. And my gloves,” he said, leading them onto the road.
She shook her head. “You’ve already done enough, and we only have a few more feet to go.” She wasn’t downplaying their journey. They only had the road left to cross. But when she took the next step, her feet slid out from under her. The thought flashed through her mind that she should be grateful the snow would soften her fall. Even so, wet jeans sucked.
But before she hit either the snow or the road, Asher’s arm tightened around her. And a heartbeat later she found herself pressed to his side. Honestly, not a bad place to be. It wasn’t the time and place for such a thought, but there it was. Like all the Warwicks she’d met, Dr. Asher Warwick, or Ash as his family called him, was a good-looking man.
When she was steady on her feet again, they crossed the rest of the way and made it safely to his truck. Opening the door behind the driver’s seat, he gestured her in. Without question, she complied. His hold on her hand tightened as she stepped onto the running board.
Settling in, she scanned her surroundings. Most of the trucks she’d been in were driven by Hollywood types. People who tended to buy the highest-end of everything because they could, not because they needed it. Not Asher, though. His truck was nice and higher-end, to be sure. But well used. A duffel bag sat tucked behind the passenger seat beside her. Sand from the winter roads littered the rubber floor mats. A couple of scuff marks marred the seat. And a few personal belongings—a sweatshirt, a pamphlet from some conference, and a snack bag—were lying on the front seat.
Asher climbed behind the wheel, and a wave of embarrassment washed through her. “I don’t need to sit in the back,” she said. In fact, she’d prefer not to. With him driving, it had too much of a “chauffeur” feel to it for her to be comfortable.
“And normally I wouldn’t ask you to,” Asher said as he turned the heat up. “But I don’t remember if this stretch of the road has a ditch off the shoulder. It was safer to have you get in from the road side.”
The reasonable explanation assuaged some of her guilt, and she allowed herself to relax a touch. The warm tendrils of air curling through the cab helped as well. “I feel like I should be doing more. I don’t like playing the damsel in distress,” she said.
He was leaning over the console, digging in his glove box. He flashed a grin at her over his shoulder. It really was a wonder he hadn’t gone into film. Or modeling. He wasn’t pretty. He wasn’t someone you’d look at and admire their classical features. But there was something…authentically masculine about him. The kind of man who would take down a bad guy then in the next breath, cuddle a kitten.
“You had an accident. You’re shaken and may be hurt more than you realize. You don’t need to put a gender label on it,” he said, pulling out three items from his glove box. Rolled up, reusable shopping bags. Because, of course, he used reusable bags.
“Easy for the big strong man to say,” she countered, though she smiled when she said it.
