He could only see her profile, but that was enough.

It was the woman from the day of the crash.

His breath left him.

Finally. Amazingly, there she was.

His awareness centered on her, he moved forward. She turned to chat with the two acne-prone teenagers helping her sell flowers. A piece of butcher paper reading Support the Misty River High Math Club! hung in front of their folding table.

He’d been wrong when he’d decided she could not be as appealing in real life as he’d made her in his imagination. She was ridiculously appealing. More so than he’d remembered.

She had on a bright pink short-sleeved sweater. The rounded collar of the snowy white shirt underneath folded over the neckline. Her jeans were beige. No wedding ring. Very little makeup. Hardly any jewelry at all, just tiny earrings and a classic metal watch.

He stopped at her booth. She looked in his direction, and their eyes met.

Finally. Her.

“I don’t know if you remember me,” he said. “I was in a car accident last November. You were behind me on the road, and when you saw what happened, you came to help.”

Realization lit her expression. “That’s right.” She smiled and crossed to him. “I’m pleased to see you again. I’ve thought about you often and wondered how you were.”

“I’ve thought about you often, too.”

“Did you sustain any injuries in the crash?”

“A concussion.”

“And how are you now?”

“Fully recovered.” He couldn’t believe he’d found her, was talking to her.

“Excellent. You look impressively healthy.”

“I am.”

“And exceedingly handsome.”

“You think I’m handsome?”

She tilted her head a few millimeters. “Most females must find you handsome,” she said matter of factly, with zero flirtatiousness. “Do they not?”

A grin tugged at his mouth.

An elderly couple arrived, capturing her attention.

Hers wasn’t the lean, hard beauty of a model. She had a more interesting, more subtle, more layered beauty. Her face projected many things at the same time: intelligence, kindness, confidence, and perceptiveness.

She stood at a height of maybe five foot six. Delicate, but not skinny.

Those eyes of hers made him want to protect her, which was ridiculous. She was clearly volunteering her time, just like he was. She didn’t need his protection or the rush of emotions she was making made him feel. After existing in a gray haze for months, everything was suddenly sharper than it should be—his determination not to let her go again, sounds, the color of her sweater.

What was it about her that drew him? Her calm? The strength he sensed in her? He wasn’t sure, but there was definitely something powerful about her presence. He’d never reacted to a woman this way before.

“I’ve been waiting for the chance to thank you,” he told her once the elderly couple moved away. “For stopping that day.”