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Dan wrapped an arm around her waist, noting her grunt of pain as she finally made it to her feet. “Feeling light-headed?”
“No. I just feel like a fool. I forgot which way the cars go here.” She grimaced again as she finally noticed the blood trail. “I did a good job, huh?”
“Spectacular.”
“Good thing redheads have such a high pain threshold.”
She wasn’t crying but making jokes? He so didn’t get this woman. He ushered her to the relative safety of the parking lot. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”
“Then do I get my ice cream?”
“Princess, you can have all the ice cream you want.”
After helpingher hobble to the nearby ice-cream parlor and ordering something appropriately called a “rough and tumble”—a smashed up version of a sundae heaped with chocolate sauce, nuts, and sprinkles—Dan discreetly phoned the paramedics, who visited, checked her for concussion, and patched her up. Sarah wasn’t impressed.
“I look like a five-year-old”—she motioned to the big white bandages on her knees and elbow—“who can’t ride a bike properly.”
He hid the smile. Yeah, it did look like that. “It could’ve been worse.” How the old lady had missed her was amazing. Maybe an angel had stood between the car and bike or something.
He watched as Sarah finally finished her sundae, scraping out the last traces of chocolate fudge sauce with her finger. “How are you feeling now?”
“Ice cream helps.” She sighed. “But it feels like all Gravenhurst has come out to see the clown.”
Yeah, there’d been some of that. He’d politely shooed away some tourists who’d asked him for an autograph. They’d been none too subtle in checking out the girl with him. “Good thing you don’t care about what other people think.”
“It is, isn’t it?” Sarah gave a twisted smile, then eased up. “Can we go now?”
“Sure. I’ll call a cab.”
“I can ride back.”
“What? No, Princess, you can’t do that. You’re not exactly roadworthy—”
“I knowI’mnot exactly worthy of riding on Canadian roads, but the bike still is.” She nodded as if to convince herself. “I can do this.”
“I don’t think you should.”
But she wasn’t listening, was already moving to where he’d propped their bikes earlier. She strapped on her helmet and gingerly got back on.
“Sarah!”
She ignored him and pedaled away. He sighed, retrieved his bike, and caught up with her at the next cross street.
“This is really dumb, Sar.”
She lifted her chin, moving on as soon as the break in traffic allowed.
Dan gritted his teeth. He could shake her for this stupid stubbornness. He glanced across. The determined tilt to her jaw suggested more than simple pride was at stake here. He had a long time to ponder the cause as they walked most of the way back, up those big hills they’d so lightheartedly flown down a couple of hours earlier.
By the time they finally arrived at John and Ange’s cottage, Sarah’s face glowed as bright as her hair. She hadn’t been joking about that exercise thing. “You look like you need a really big, cold drink. You’re pretty red.”
“Thanks. Iloveit when people notice and feel they have to say something.” She dropped the bike, then collapsed into a Muskoka chair. “I’m completely wiped.”
He retrieved several bottles of water from inside, handed her one, then another as she drained the first in world record time, complete with water dribbling down her chin. His lips twitched. Classy. Halfway through the second, she put her head in her hands and groaned.
“Sar?”
“I think I need to lie down.” She stood unsteadily.
