While she was on the phone, Conner took a look at the car. The bank of the bar ditch was so steep here that the compact Toyota was almost resting on its chassis. There was no way to push it from behind without causing serious damage. It would need to be towed with a chain, which he didn’t have with him in the truck.

She had turned away to make the call. Now she turned back, lowered the window a few more inches, and handed him the phone.

“So, did you find out I’m not a serial killer?” He leaned against the car, trying to shield himself from the biting wind.

“Just barely. My parents didn’t recognize your name. But my brother, Daniel, knew who you were. So I guess you’re all right.”

Daniel. The name rang a bell, but he couldn’t connect it with a face. “I’ve looked at the car,” he said. “It’ll need to be towed out, probably in the morning. Is anyone coming to get you?”

She sighed. “My dad has poor night vision. He’d never make it here in the storm. Daniel and my mom don’t drive. So I guess I’m stuck, unless—”

“Unless I give you a ride home.” Conner finished the sentence for her.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s an imposition—”

“No, it’s fine. This truck can go anywhere. Do you need to get anything out of the car?”

“Two suitcases. They’re in the trunk. My name is Megan, by the way. Megan Carson.” She reached down and pulled the trunk release. Conner lifted out the two bags and put them in the backseat of the cab. He was fine with driving her home. From what he’d seen of her, it was hard to tell what she looked like. But he couldn’t help being intrigued.

He was holding out for his dream woman to show up at the ball, he reminded himself. But if there was an attractive new female in town, why not get to know her?

After all, what did he have to lose?

* * *

Megan closed the window and turned off the ignition. Unlocking the door, she tried to shove it open. She managed to push it about halfway before a wind gust slammed it shut against her shoulder, the sound of it like a thunderclap in the darkness.

“Here, come on.” Her rescuer appeared in a swirl of snow, opening the door and holding it against the wind. Megan took the gloved hand he offered, clasping it as he guided her through the blinding storm to his truck and held the door while she climbed inside. The hood of his parka kept his face in shadow. So far, all she knew about him was that he was strong, had a masculine voice, and cared enough to help a stranded woman on a stormy night.