Falling For Nick (15 page)

She couldn't see the plow when she turned her car up the road to Lake Bliss. Snow continued to fall, the flakes thick and heavy already covering the road in winter white where the plow had just cleared the pavement.

The Honda's wheels spun over the icy road, the back end sliding as she rounded the first bend. Clea's hands tightened on the steering wheel. The road held a film of ice making driving worse than she'd expected. Seven miles of curves stood between her and Robert's house. She considered turning the car around and heading home, but the thought of another confrontation with Nick kept her foot to the gas pedal. She didn't want to be alone with him again, not when his kisses stole her will and made her forget all about her fiancé.

Last night she'd wanted to give in to Nick, even though she'd known it was wrong. When Nick hadn't returned after his release from prison, she'd wanted to be anywhere but Port Bliss. For ten years she'd harbored hope. While she'd never acknowledged that feeling, she realized now that it had been there, simmering just below the surface. She didn't want to have that kind of all-consuming passion again. It hurt too much.

Clea gave the car some gas and sped forward. The studded tires spun, but she kept going. Snow hit her windshield as fast as her wipers could clear it away. For the first couple of miles trees bracketed the road, the forest growing thicker as she climbed the mountain. Covered with snow the firs looked as pretty as a picture on a Christmas card, but Clea didn't take the time to enjoy the sight. The car fishtailed as she rounded a curve. Her breath left her lungs in a whoosh when she noticed she had just missed the ravine that served as a drainage ditch on her right.

But she didn't stop; she couldn't. If she did, she might never get going again. Studded tires were fine on snow, but did her little good on the ice. She figured herself to be about three miles up. The forest to her right gave way to a solid rock wall. To her left the road dropped off into a deep gully. There were no guardrails. She couldn't afford to make a mistake under these conditions.

Two more miles and she'd reach the Lake Bliss Grocery, a tiny store where the locals could pick up a paper or a quart of milk. Once there, she'd abandon her car and ask Mr. McGinley, the store's owner, to take her to Robert's on his snowmobile.

Clea held on to that thought as she eyed the hairpin curve just ahead. She let off the gas, then slowly accelerated as she went into the curve. Her backend slid a little, but as she righted the wheels, a vehicle came around the curve toward her in her lane.

She turned the steering wheel sharply, and her right two tires slid into the ditch. The on-coming vehicle sideswiped her car, latching onto it. The sound of ripping metal filled the air. Her car came up against the rock wall, and for a split second she thought she might be squished between the large utility vehicle and the rock. The SUV dragged her backward along the rock, jolting to a stop. Her head snapped forward striking something solid.

A numbing pain shot through her head.

She tried to focus, but it felt as if she looked through a long, dark tunnel. Her field of vision narrowed as everything faded to black.

*   *   *

Nick frowned as he drove up to the accident. Why didn't people just stay put? The snow hadn't let up at all, yet people continued to drive in conditions that weren't even fit for the snowplow.

He brought the truck to a stop, opened the door, and jumped out. His boots sank into several inches of fresh snow. The snowplow waited nearby to clear the road back to town, its yellow caution light circling round and round. An aid car blocked his view of the vehicles involved in the accident, but he could tell there were at least two cars.

"Hey, Nick," Sheriff Kincade said, giving Nick a nod.

"Anybody seriously injured?" Nick rounded the aid car. A burgundy Ford Expedition had slid off the road, taking another vehicle with it. Small and red, the second car lay crushed between the Expedition and the rock wall that lined this section of the drive up the mountain.

A red car. Clea had a red car. His heart sped up and he took a step forward. The sheriff grabbed his arm.

"Hold on, Nick," the sheriff said, and for once Nick could read the expression in Sheriff Kincade's eyes. Something was wrong, terribly wrong.

"Let me go." A wave of nausea hit him, nearly bringing him to his knees. It couldn't be Clea.

"Why don't you just wait here with me until they get her out? You'll only be in the way."

The sheriff's words confirmed the worst, twisting the fear buried deep in the pit of his stomach. Nick pulled his arm free.

"Is she alive?" he asked, the words a tortured rasp. He couldn't bear it if he lost her now. A deep ache filled his chest.

"She's alive and talking, but she's got a nasty bump on her head. She refused to let me call her mother or Robert. I'm hoping to talk some sense into her once they get her free."

Nick's heart began to beat again. Clea was alive and talking. "What happened?"

"Both vehicles were going slow," Sheriff Kincade said. "The folks in the Expedition lost control going around the curve. They forced Clea off the road and dragged her car a ways before they both came to a stop. The damage looks worse than it is. The folks in the Expedition are all right, just shaken up."

The little red car looked crumpled, smashed, the windshield shattered. The firefighters worked to free Clea. The sound of twisting metal filled the air, then Clea's car door broke free. The EMTs worked on her and Nick thought he heard her moan. He held onto that sound, praying she'd be all right.

A stretcher appeared and they moved Clea onto it. Nick got his first look at her. A large white bandage covered her forehead. A brace circled her neck. Her arm lay in a splint. Snow fell on her, on all of them as they took her to the aid car. Nick followed, a sick wrenching in his gut.

"I'm riding down with her," he said as the EMTs loaded her into the vehicle.

"Sorry," the young EMT said. "It's against the rules. You'll need to follow in your own car."

"Where are you taking her?" Nick asked. Her skin held an ashen color that scared the hell out of him. Her lips were pale. He willed her to open her eyes.

"To the hospital in Bradley," the EMT said.

The sheriff came up beside them. "Let her go, Nick. You're needed here. Come on."

"Wait." Nick stepped up into the aid car. "Clea?"

"Nick." Her voice sounded weak, but she opened her eyes. "It's worse than it looks. I'm fine. I just bumped my head."

"I'll be at the hospital as soon as I can. I promise." He squeezed her hand. "Hang in there, Princess. These guys will take good care of you. Don't worry about anything." Leaning down, he kissed her cheek.

"I'm glad you're here," she murmured.

"All right," the EMT said, placing a hand on Nick's shoulder. "We need to go."

Nick nodded. He let go of Clea's hand, then jumped from the aid car. The doors closed. The plow started and together the vehicles drove away.

Clea's words echoed through his head, "I'm glad you're here." He didn't care if she'd said them in delirium. The words had come from somewhere and he wasn't about to let her take them back.

*   *   *

"I'm fine, Doctor, really," Clea said. She'd been in the emergency room for hours. She'd suffered a bump on her forehead the size of a hardboiled egg. The grogginess had left, leaving behind a headache, but not much else. Her wrist hurt, but wasn't broken. Her legs worked fine, but most of her muscles were sore. "Let me go home."

"It's best if you stay, Miss Rose." Dr. Martin peered at Clea over the top of his glasses. Well past middle age and graying, Dr. Martin had a kind but firm bedside manner. He made it easy for Clea to trust him. "Unless you'll allow me to call your family?"

"No. I don't want to worry them, or risk their safety by having them come out in the snow. I'm sure Mitzi is in town. Let me try her number again." She'd hoped Nick would show up to take her home, but he hadn't kept his promise to her. She still couldn't trust him, and that hurt more than she wanted to admit.

"You need to be awakened every two hours. You have a concussion." Dr. Martin pursed his lips. "You've been unable to reach your friend and confirm that she can care for you. You said you tried her cell phone and there was no answer. I really can't release you without confirmation of a caregiver."

"I'll take care of her."

Clea and the doctor both turned at the sound of Nick's voice. He stood in the open doorway. His boots still held snow. A dark knit cap covered his head. The fleece lined Carhartt jacket he wore looked soaked clean through. He'd been out in the weather, most likely working at removing her car from the ditch. Lines of fatigue, or worry, creased his forehead, and she wondered if he'd been worried about her.

"I came as soon as I could." Nick walked toward her, pulling his gloves off. "I had a couple of cars I had to tow down the mountain before I could get away."

"Nick." He'd kept his promise.

"You scared the hell out of me."

The tenderness in his voice touched her. "I'm fine." She offered him a smile.

"She's not fine," the doctor said with a frown. "She wants to leave. Her injuries were minor, but she needs someone who can watch over her. She has a concussion and she needs to be awakened every two hours."

"I'm your man," Nick said to the doctor. "Just tell me what to do and I'll do it."

"Is that all right with you, Miss Rose?" Dr. Martin raised one bushy brow.

She wanted to leave. She didn't want John to find out she was in the hospital. Since she was unable to reach Mitzi, Nick was her only choice.

"Miss Rose?" the doctor prompted.

Her need to be home outweighed her fear of being alone with Nick. "Yes, it's all right with me." Her eyes met Nick's and she saw triumph, or was it relief?

"Well, then, I'll prepare the paperwork." Dr. Martin wrote another note on her chart, then left the room.

"You don't have to do this," Clea said, not knowing what else to say.

"I want to." Nick pulled a metal chair up beside the bed and sat down.

"You can find Mitzi once we're back in town. She's probably staying at my place anyway."

He pulled the cap from his head, releasing his wild, uncombed hair. "You don't need Mitzi. I'm here."

Clea resisted the urge to reach over and smooth his wayward hair. She glanced away from him. "I don't want John to find out I've been in the hospital. It would scare him. He's been through so much lately. I don't want to add another worry to his shoulders. Promise me you won't call my mother or Robert."

"Clea," Nick said, taking her hand. "Shut up. I can take care of you. Let me."

The husky tempo of his voice caused her heart to skip a beat. For a moment, Clea lost herself in the clear blue of his eyes. A sweet ache started inside her. It would feel so good to just let go and let him take care of her, but could she?

A nurse came into the room, a clipboard in her hand. "Here's the paperwork."

She jerked her head toward the nurse. The motion made her head pound. "Thank you."

"Sign here," the nurse said, "and here." When she finished, she handed a sheet of instructions to Nick, going over them, telling Nick what signs to look for and how to care for her. Nick nodded as he listened.

Clea swung her legs over the side of the bed. She was going home to spend the night with Nick Lombard. If her mother found out, she'd kill her.

*   *   *

"Wake up, Clea."

Clea fought for sleep. The gray fuzziness of oblivion called to her, cradled her, held her in its comforting arms. A delicious warmth cocooned her body. She rolled over and snuggled more deeply into her pillow.