“Don’t go to sleep, honey,” Mrs. Good Samaritan yelled through the window. “You might have a head injury. Stay with us!”
She wasn’t going anywhere, but she opened her eyes to make her rescuers feel better. And because she had her eyes wide open, she couldn’t miss the Whitford Police Department cruiser that pulled up. It wasn’t a sedan with the familiar striped scheme down the side. No, this one was a big, black, shiny, four-by-four SUV with a light bar across the roof and the town seal on the door. It was the kind of vehicle the top of the departmental food chain drove.
The door opened and the Whitford police chief stepped out. Drew Miller was tall and ruggedly built, which she found incredibly sexy because, at almost six feet herself, she didn’t meet many men who could pull off the me Tarzan thing with her.
He wore the department’s short-sleeved summer uniform, and a ball cap with WPD printed on it covered his dark hair. No rolling up onto the balls of his feet and hitching his gun belt for Drew. He commanded any room he was in whether he was armed or not.
He even commanded outdoor spaces, Liz realized as she watched him head toward her car with long, confident strides. He had sunglasses on, but she didn’t need to see his eyes to know his focus was one hundred percent on her.
“Are you hurt?”
Liz wasn’t sure if she heard him or was simply able to read his lips because she was staring at his mouth. He had an amazing mouth. It was the first thing she’d noticed the day of her brother’s wedding reception.
“Liz, are you hurt?”
She shook her head in answer to his question.
“We didn’t let her move,” the husband and wife said at the same time.
“Thank you. It’s always better to be safe than sorry and I can’t tell you how much we appreciate citizens who go out of their way to help when they witness somebody in need.”
While the couple talked over each other in a rush to tell Drew how she’d lost control of her car in the rain and parked it in the trees, Liz took advantage of their distraction to get out and survey the damage. There was a lot of crumpled sheet metal and the ground was littered with broken lens covers.
In a rare stroke of good luck, it didn’t look like anything had flown out of the trunk. No underwear or toiletries or other personal belongings on display, though the top layer of bags and small boxes was going to take a while to dry.
“So she wasn’t speeding, then?” she heard Drew ask, and she knew him well enough to hear the undertone of amusement in his voice. He said it loud enough for her benefit, too.
Liz waited, her cheeks hot with humiliation and maybe something else, while Drew called in a status update and gently but firmly sent her two Good Samaritans on their way. She called out a thank-you, managing a wave and a smile as they left.
“You’re sure you’re not hurt?” he asked her again once the official part of his duties were over.
“I’m sure.” She couldn’t think of anything to say after that, which annoyed her. She’d known Drew since she was a kid and, just because they’d had sex the one time, she was as awkward as a middle-school girl with a bad crush.
He moved closer, looking her up and down. She told herself it had to be a police thing—checking her for injuries—but his slow perusal didn’t help cool her face any. Once he was satisfied with what he saw, presumably injury-wise, he took a slow walk around the car.
“Can’t say what your total damage will be, but with the way that fender’s crunched up against the tire, I know you can’t drive it.”
“Great.” Hell of a way to kick off her brand-new life, she thought as he radioed in a request for a tow truck.
“Why does it look like you have everything you own in this car?” he asked when he was done.
“Because everything I own is in this car.”
His face was so expressionless, she knew it had to be a deliberate effort on his part. Some kind of cop face, maybe. “Why?”
Liz found it hard to believe the chief of police in a town that loved gossip as much as Whitford hadn’t heard. “I’m moving back for good.”
“Oh.” Seconds ticked by in awkward silence. “I didn’t know that. Mitch has been traveling, but I was at the lodge weekend before last and nobody mentioned it.”
Mitch, Liz’s older brother, was Drew’s best friend. And Drew’s dad, Andy, was now shacking up at the Northern Star Lodge—the Kowalski family business—with Rosie, who was called the housekeeper, but had practically raised Liz and her four brothers. How Drew could be out of the family gossip loop was beyond her.
“I made the decision last weekend and it was pretty fast. As in, I got off the phone with Rosie and packed my car.” She gave a rueful laugh and waved a hand at the car. “I probably should have taken the time to have the tires changed.”