He didn’t know. He’d flown to the airstrip. He . . . He remembered getting into his car and pulling out onto the road in the fog. That’s all.

He’d lost time.

Experimentally, he moved his fingers and toes. Everything was working fine except for the splitting pain in his head.

The one with the beautiful voice clicked off the radio. “Downbound Train” disappeared, leaving only a faint ringing in his ears.

“I’m relieved that you came to,” she said.

The tone of her words softened the agony inside his skull.

Slowly, he turned his chin in her direction. He’d lost his tolerance for light and the pinpricks wouldn’t go away. He squeezed his eyes shut against the disorienting sensation, then opened them and concentrated hard so that he could focus on her.

She . . . had the face of an angel.

An unforgettable face. A heartbreaking face, both hopeful and world-weary. He guessed her to be a year or two younger than he was, but she didn’t look sheltered or naïve.

Long eyelashes framed almond-shaped gray-blue eyes as deep as they were soft. A defined groove marked the center of her upper lip. Blond hair, parted on the side. Neither curly nor straight, it had a natural, faintly messy look to it. She’d cut it so that it ended halfway between her small, determined chin and her shoulders.

Had he died? Was she an angel? She was there, which made him think he’d died. But his head hurt, which made him think he hadn’t.

“Are you injured?” she asked.

“I’m fine. Except for my head.”

Concern flickered in her expression. At least, he thought it did. He struggled to see her more clearly, furious that he couldn’t look at her with his usual powers of observation.

She knelt on the passenger seat, the door behind her gaping open. “I’ve already called 9-1-1. Hopefully they’ll be here soon.”

“I hope not.”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t want them to take me away from you.”

Her brows lifted. “I . . .” She gestured. “I was behind you on the road. I came around the bend just in time to see your car go off the edge. I pulled over and dialed 9-1-1.”

“How long was I out?”

“Just a few minutes. Is there anything I can do for you?”

He extended his right hand to her. “Hold my hand?”

“Of course.” She wrapped both of her hands around his. The heat of her touch had the same effect on him as her voice and appearance.

He suspected he’d cracked his head on his side window, which had knocked him out and likely given him a severe concussion.

“Would it help if I unfastened your seat belt?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He was capable of freeing it using his left hand. But if she was offering to do it for him, he wasn’t about to say no.