He tentatively reached for her hip and gave it a shake. “Hey?”
When she didn’t respond, he pulled out his phone and dialed 9-11, but his cell wasn’t getting a signal. “Fucking mountain.” He stuffed the useless paperweight back in his pocket and jostled her again.
Her body felt frozen. “Lady, I’m here to help you. I have a car on the road. Looks like you spun into a ditch. You have to get somewhere warm—”
A hard cough rattled from her chest, shaking her shoulders. He briefly shut his eyes, thanking God she wasn’t dead.
“Are you hurt?”
A pained groan was her only answer.
“Okay.” He glanced around the car, but everything was thrown to the passenger side. “I have a car. We can wait there for an ambulance. I’m not getting any cell service this close to the trees. Do you think you can sit up so I can lift you out?”
Her hips twisted and a muffled moan met his ears. Tight red material clung to her curves, and he raised a brow when she pivoted her hips, her tapered thighs parted and that wrapper of a skirt hardly covered her panties. Jesus, who was this lady? And what was wrong with him that he looked?
He forced his attention back to her face, still buried by a tumble of blonde hair. She cupped a hand to the side of her head and groaned as she tried to sit up.
“Careful.” He reached for her, but she didn’t seem to acknowledge him. “The car’s cockeyed. You’re in a ditch.”
She would have to get towed out once the roads were cleared and who knew when that would be.
When she shifted, pushing against the door and fighting gravity, a bag spilled onto the floor, random female items rolling under the seat. A bottle of pills rattled out and she clumsily raked the items back into the bag. But the task seemed too grueling and she gave up, flopping her chest back down to the seat and falling silent.
“Don’t go to sleep.” He wasn’t sure of her injuries but knew that anyone with a concussion shouldn’t sleep. “Come on. Try to turn around and take my hand. I’ll pull you out.” His feet were numb and he just wanted to get back to his car, back to the heat. “Use the door to push yourself up.”
Her shoulders lifted under the puffy coat and he heard her taking several deep breaths as if gathering her strength. She reached a manicured hand over her head and fumbled for the handle. She didn’t wear a ring.
When she got hold of the handle she let out a muffled groan and pushed herself upward, rolling her weight to her back and whacking her head against the window when gravity took over.
“Easy.”
She grumbled something and covered her face with her hands. Her legs sprawled toward him and he should have been a gentleman about it, but his gaze traveled from her red wrapped hips, down her lush, ivory thighs, to her tapered calf muscles, and his jaw dropped when he spotted the pointed stilettos on her feet.
“Who are you?” he whispered, his stare slowly traveling back to her face.
Another moan, as she braced her back along the door and she pushed her hair away. It was dark, and with the snow and branches covering most of the car, only a slice of moonlight slipped in.
A sharp tongue darted out over full lips, then firmed as if the soft motion caused her pain. Their eyes met, and he shuddered, much like he would if he’d accidentally checked out his mom or drank poison.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she groaned, dipping her head back, exposing the long column of her throat.
This couldn’t be happening. “Erin?”
“Mmmm,” she moaned and winced, breathing heavily.
Only his luck could have landed him here, with Satan’s succubus. How the hell was this beautiful woman Erin Montgomery? He saw no forked tongue or tail. No horns or demon eyes.
Gross. Thirty seconds ago he’d been checking her out!
His eyes rolled toward the snowy sky, his gut curdling with acidic self-loathing. He wanted the blonde bombshell snow bunny of his fantasies back, not the bitch of Eastwick.
“I think I’m gonna be sick,” she slurred.
“Me too.”
He wanted to leave her there for all those times she called him annoying and told Finn to ditch him. But then she let out a soft whimper and one of those jagged breaths that precede a cry, and he took pity on her.
“Give me your hand.” She didn’t deserve his sympathy, but he wasn’t a monster.
She hesitated—the bitch—and he was back to hating her.
“Or wait here for someone else,” he snapped. “It’s no sweat off my balls.”
“You’re disgusting.” She reluctantly reached for his hand and he hauled her toward the door with little concern for her injuries. It took some maneuvering to pull her ass out of the car, but she weighed as much as a bird, so it wasn’t too bad.