More vehicles pulled up, including a news crew complete with mics and cameras.
“And the circus begins,” the cop complained. “Get ready for an interview.”
The last thing he wanted. Given how Vanity had stiffened, she felt the same. “Mind if we skip out on that?”
Nodding in understanding, the cop tapped a notepad to his thigh. “I have your info. I’ll be in touch if I need anything else.”
“Thanks.” Avoiding eye contact with the reporters, Stack got Vanity moving.
In a whisper, she said, “I feel so conspicuous in this dress with your tux jacket. I hope they don’t notice us.”
Nice to know she wasn’t one of those people who preened for attention. Stack opened her door and got her in, taking one quick look to see two reporters clustered around the injured woman and her husband.
They got out of there before anyone tried to talk to them.
For five minutes they rode in silence. Using his coat like a blanket, Vanity tried to smooth her hair, lifted the skirt of her dress and grimaced, then turned down the visor mirror and blew out a breath at her reflection. “I’m wrecked.”
“And brave.”
“Mostly wrecked.” She flipped the visor back up. “What that nice officer said? It’s true. You literally ran right up to that fire. You didn’t know if the car would explode—”
“Cars don’t explode. Or at least, not very often. What you see in movies is just for drama.” She still looked shaken, so he tried to reassure her with bland facts. “The wreck probably sheared the fuel line. Totaled as that SUV was, I’m guessing some metal might’ve punctured the gas tank, too. Hard to know what happened, but once everything catches fire, yeah, it can look like an explosion.”
She leveled a look on him. “You’re debating semantics. It was dangerous. Very dangerous.”
“And you were right there.” He white-knuckled the steering wheel, still hating how close she’d gotten to that danger. “I thought you were going to stay in the car.”
“If you hadn’t needed my help, I would have.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not great in a crisis.”
“That’s a joke, right?” When she just stared at him, he added, “You were perfect. Steady, calm.” He thought of how she’d struggled to get the woman free, and added, “Strong.”
“So why are you frowning?”
“You could have been hurt.”
Her brows went up. “You were worried about me?”
Stack didn’t answer that. Did she really find that idea so surprising?
“Ahhh...” Vanity stroked his shoulder. “You were. That is so sweet.”
Annoying, but what he noticed most was the continued trembling of her hand. She put up a good front, but obviously she had been affected.
He chanced a glance at her, then at the time on the dash. One in the morning. It choked him, but he knew he had to make a noble offer. He had to be considerate.
He had to be fucking sweet.
His balls protested, but he made himself say, “Listen, it’s late, and things have gone sideways. If you need some time, we can put this off—”
“What?” Rearing back, for the first time looking truly upset, Vanity watched him. “You’re backing out on me?”
“No.” Hell, no. “We’re definitely getting together. I’m just saying, if you’re hurt or upset, it doesn’t have to be tonight.”
Her eyes flashed at him. Leaning toward him, her voice firm, she growled, “Yes, Stack Hannigan, it does!”
CHAPTER TWO
STACK FROWNED OVER her raised voice. “Calm down.” Her quick glare befuddled him. “Look, all I’m saying is that you’re shaking. And your arm is burnt and—”
“And you made promises.” While looking at her arm, she added, “Sexual promises, so don’t even think of dodging out on me.” She winced when she saw the burn. “Damn it. It wasn’t hurting, but now that you’ve pointed it out, it is.”
“I wasn’t...” All her attention remained on her arm, so he gave up trying to explain that he’d only made an attempt at nobility. No way was he “dodging out,” as she’d accused.
The burn on her arm didn’t look serious. Slightly bigger than a quarter, it was red, angry, but only slightly blistered. “I can take care of that for you once we get to your place.”
“What will you do?” She held her arm to her chest protectively.