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She had found his soft spot. At least now she knew he had one.
At last they reached the safety of the road where Dexter walked briskly toward his car and unceremoniously dropped her into the passenger seat. For Laura, she was just grateful to be out of the gorge and back on solid ground. When Dexter came around to the driver side he turned on the ignition and cranked the heaters up to full power.
“You should be able to feel the heat soon.” He motioned toward her feet which, at present, were curled up under her buttocks. “I suggest you begin rubbing them to get the circulation flowing.”
It was only after he swung his shiny new Volvo around and started heading back toward the south road, that a question dawned on Laura.
“What were you doing on the north road, anyway? I thought you said only a fool would attempt—”
“If the shoe fits . . .”
“I don't think you're a fool. As a matter-of-fact, I think you are—” She was about to say a hero and she owed him her life, but he did not allow her to finish.
“Am I supposed to accept that as a compliment? From a woman whose own actions were so foolhardy she not only put her own life into jeopardy, but someone else's as well. Namely, mine?”
“I didn't ask you to come down that ravine.” She automatically defended herself from his cruel barbs.
“You were screaming at the top of your lungs.” He reminded her.
She had an unfamiliar urge to hit him. “What else was I supposed to do? Besides, with your personality, why didn't you simply walk away? I'm sure you wouldn't have had any remorse.”
“The next time this happens, you can bet that's exactly what I'll do.”
Seething with anger and hurt she glared at his profile until satisfied, this time at least, looks couldn't wound, she spun around in her seat. Fixing her fiery gaze on the scenery outside her window, she felt her insides ignite with anger. Laura prided herself on her ability to be good-natured and easygoing. People considered her friendly and a peace loving individual. She rarely got angry. However, this man, a virtual stranger, had an uncanny talent to draw out her temper.
He was a hurtful and despicable creature. It would only give her great pleasure to swipe that mean insufferable expression from his face. If he so badly wanted to be despised, then fine, he would have his wish because at that moment Laura hated him greatly.
And yet, he said the next time it happened he would walk away. He hadn't said anything about having to do it all over again he would walk away.
Stop it, Laura, she scolded herself. Stop doing this. The man was intolerable! Everyone disliked him, why the devil shouldn't she? It was, after all, what he wanted.
She sighed to herself. Because she knew it wasn't in her character. She couldn't help but not like a man who saved, not only her life, but her feet from frostbite as well. Not to mention from a lonely Christmas Eve.
No, no matter how rude he was, how despicable he spoke, or how insensitive he appeared, she couldn’t dislike him.
Without a doubt, she knew she would be forever grateful to him. Not just for saving her life, but unknowingly, giving her that companionship she desperately needed on Christmas Eve.
Less than an hour later, Dexter pulled up to the emergency entrance of the hospital. She wholeheartedly expected him to drop—or rather dump her off at the entrance with a good riddance wave of farewell.
Instead, he parked the vehicle, came around to the passenger side, then swooped Laura back into his arms. She watched his wooden features as he marched them across the parking lot and through the automatic opening doors to the hospital’s emergency ward, and decided it was best not to argue.
It only took little over three-quarters of an hour for a doctor to treat her feet for minor frostbite, administer to the gashes on her legs, then discharge her. A wheelchair was brought to Laura's aid, and while a nurse assisted her, Dexter thanked the doctor in a brisk authoritative voice before wheeling her out to his car.
At this point Laura decided it was time she spoke. “It isn't necessary you see me home. The doctor said I'm quite fine. I'm sure I'll be able to arrange some means of transportation—”
“He also said you should stay off your feet for a couple of days.” Again, that unemotional voice had her frowning. How did he really feel?
“Which I will,” she agreed. “As soon as I get home. So, please, if you wouldn't mind dropping me off at the bus depot—”
“Look.” His voice was implacable as he hauled her out of the wheelchair and deposited her into the passenger seat of his car once
again. “I began this and I intend to finish it.”
“Fine.” She sighed in defeat, then proceeded to give him directions to her home.
It wasn't far from the hospital and in no time she pointed out the house lining the street.
“Daddy left me the house, mortgage free. He took care of everything when he was alive. He must have known—” Her voice broke, finding it still difficult to discuss her deceased parent.
