Midnight Kiss (Virgin River #12)(18)

“You faint?”

She nodded, panic etched on her face. “Right after I get sick.”

He rolled his eyes. That was all he needed. “Do not get out of the car!”

“Don’t worry,” she said as he was exiting.

Drew assessed the deer before he took a closer look at the car. The deer was dead, bleeding from legs and head, eyes wide and fixed, blood running onto the white snow. There was some hood and grille damage, but the car might be driveable if he didn’t have a smashed windshield. It was laminated glass, so it had gone all veiny like a spiderweb. He’d have to find a way to get that big buck off and then, if he drove it, he’d have a hard time seeing through the cracked glass.

He pulled out his cell phone and began snapping pictures, but in the dark it was questionable what kind of shots he’d get.

He leaned back in the car. “Can I borrow your camera? It has a nice, big flash, right?”

“Borrow it for what?”

“To get some pictures of the accident. For insurance.”

“Should I take them?” she asked.

“I don’t know if you’ll have time before you get sick and faint.”

Blood. That meant there was blood. “Okay—but let me show you how.” She pulled the camera bag from the backseat, took the camera out and gave him a quick lesson, then sat quietly, trying not to look at the dead deer staring at her as light flashed in her peripheral vision.

But then, curious about where Drew was, she looked out the cracked windshield and what she saw almost brought tears to her eyes. With the camera hanging at his side from his left hand, he looked down at the poor animal and, with his right hand, gave him a gentle stroke.

Then he was back, handing her the camera. “Did you pet that dead deer?” she asked softly.

He gave his head a little nod. “I feel bad. I wish I’d seen him in time. Poor guy. I hope he doesn’t have a family somewhere.”

“Aw, Drew, you’re just a tender heart.”

“Here’s what we have to do,” he said, moving on. “We’re going to have to walk the rest of the way. Fortunately it’s only a couple of miles.”

“Shouldn’t we stay with the car? I’ve always heard you should stay with the car. What if someone comes looking for us?”

“It will be too cold. I can’t keep it running all night. And if anyone gets worried by how long we’re gone, they’re going to look in Fortuna or Eureka. Or at least the route to those towns, which is where you told them we were going.” He lifted a brow. “Why do you suppose you did that?”

She shook her head. “I didn’t want my uncle Nate to think we were going somewhere to be alone. Dumb. Very dumb.”

“I need a phone, a tow truck and a warm place to wait, so here’s what’s going to happen. Hand me the camera case.” She zipped it closed and he hung it over his shoulder. “There’s a big flashlight in the glove box. Grab it—I’ll have to light our way when we clear the headlights. Now slide over here and when you get out, either shield or close your eyes until I lead you past the deer, because the way my night’s going if you get sick, it’ll be on me.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I smell it,” she said. “Ick, I can smell it!”

“Close your eyes and your nose,” he said. “Let’s get past this, all right?”

She slid over, put her feet on the ground and stood. And her spike heels on her boots sank into the frozen, snowy ground. “Uh-oh,” she said.

“Oh, brother. So, what if I broke the heels off those boots? Would you be able to walk in them?”

She gasped! “They’re six-hundred-dollar Stuart Weitzman boots!”

He looked at her levelly for a long moment. “I guess the photography business is going very, very well.”

“I had to console myself a little after being left at the church. Giving them up now would be like another… Oh, never mind…”

“You’re right,” he said. “I must have lost my mind.” He eased her backward, lifted her onto the seat with her legs dangling out. Then he positioned the heavy camera bag around his neck so it hung toward the front. Next he turned his back to her, braced his hands on his knees and bent a little. “Piggyback,” he said. “Let’s move it.”

“I’m too heavy.”

“No, Sunny, you’re not.”

“I am. You have no idea how much I weigh.”

“It’s all right,” he said. “It’s not too much.”

“I’ll go in my socks. It’s just a couple of miles…”

“And get frostbite and from then on you’ll be putting your prosthetic feet into your Stuart Weitzmans.” He looked over his shoulder at her. “The sooner we do this, the sooner we’re warm and with help on the way.”

Sunny only thought about it for a second—she was getting cold and she liked her feet, didn’t want to give them up to frostbite. She grumbled as she climbed on. “I was just willing to leave Jack’s so we could talk without everyone watching. I haven’t really talked to a single guy in a year.”

“Close your eyes,” he said. “What does that mean, ‘really talked to a single guy’?”