she moved his foot again, she heard the distinct hiss of his breath. He didn’t say anything and so she continued moving his foot. At last, his foot slipped past the brake pedal.
She pulled back. “You’re free.”
There was perspiration beading on the man’s forehead. It definitely wasn’t hot in the car. It was more like freezing. Her maneuvering his foot must have hurt him more than he’d let on. She felt really bad adding to his discomfort, but she had no other way to free him.
“Now,” she said, “let’s get you out of here.”
She eased out of the car and attempted to help him, but he brushed her off. The smoke was getting heavier.
“I’ve got it,” he said. “Just move away from the car.”
“Not without you.” She stood just outside the car.
“Quit saying that. Take care of yourself.”
She wasn’t backing away. If he needed her, she would be there. The popping and fizzing sounds continued. Her gaze darted to the hood where the smoke was the heaviest. Her attention returned to the man.
Hurry. Please hurry.
She wondered how bad the damage was to his left leg. It suddenly dawned on her that he most likely wouldn’t be able to walk on it. But what choice did they have as they were stuck in the middle of nowhere. It was becoming increasingly obvious that no one used this road—at least not in the middle of a snowstorm. And who could blame them, she thought, glancing around at the snow-covered roadway.
Right now, she just wanted to find Gizmo and head back to the cabin. Gizmo. Where was he? Her heart clenched with fear. Please let him be safe.
It took her assistance to get the man to his feet. Or in his case, his one good foot. He’d finally had to relent and lean on her shoulder. Between hopping and a bit of hobbling, she got him to the other side of the road, a safe distance from the car.
“Thank you,” he said. “I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t come along.”
“You’re welcome.”
“My name’s Jackson. What’s yours?”
In the daylight, she recognized him. The breath hitched in her throat. He was trouble. Make that trouble with a capital T and an exclamation point. He was Jackson Bennett—the god of morning news. She turned away.
He was on the airwaves for three hours each morning in American homes from coast to coast. People quoted him. And quite often his name trended after a particularly stunning interview.
The producers of his show had been in contact with her agent a few times to set up an on-air interview, but each time the logistics hadn’t worked for one of them. She couldn’t be more grateful about that now. Still, she couldn’t breathe. There was a definite possibility that he’d recognize her.
This was not good. Not good at all.
In her mind, he was the enemy—the press. All of her carefully laid plans were in jeopardy. She was surprised he hadn’t recognized her already. Would her different hair color and lack of makeup make that much of a difference? She could only hope. After all, who came to the Alps and expected to run across an award-winning movie star from the States?
Regardless, there was no way she was voluntarily outing herself. She’d worked too hard to flee the paparazzi and everything else related to Hollywood, including her agent. It was best that she kept their encounter brief. Not only was she over men, but Jackson was a professional newsman. With enough time, he was bound to sniff out her story.
“Mae. My name’s Mae.” It wasn’t a lie. It was her middle name.
“Mae?” He gazed at her as though studying her face. “You don’t look like a Mae.”
Oh, no!
“Who do I look like?” The words were out before she could stop them. She wanted to kick herself for indulging in this conversation that had a distinct possibility of blowing up in her face.
He continued to study her. “Hmm... I’ll have to give that some thought.”
There was a large rock nearby. She brushed off some of the freshly fallen snow. “Sit here and wait. I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?”
Gizmo’s name clogged in her throat. She’d never be able to get the words out. She swallowed hard. “I... I have to check on something.”
“It’s too late to save the car.”
She turned to find fire engulfing the hood. If Gizmo was there—if he was trapped—she had to help him. Serena quickly set off for the car, before she could talk herself out of her plan.
Jackson was shouting at her to stop, but she kept going. She would be careful—as careful as she could be. She could feel Jackson’s gaze following her. She didn’t care what he thought. If Gizmo was hurt and needed her, she had to help him.
Serena rushed through the thickening snow to the car. She carefully made her way down over the small embankment. All the while, she kept an eye out for any sign of her buddy. Between the snow and the wind, there was no sign of his little footprints.
With great trepidation, she turned toward the place where the car was smashed against the trees. Could he be in there?
She rushed over and bent down. She reached out to sweep away the snow from around the front tire, but for the briefest moment, she hesitated. Her whole body tensed as she imagined the ghastly scene awaiting her.
She gave herself a mental shake. With trembling hands, she set to work. And then at last, most of the snow had been swept away. There was no Gizmo. She took her first full breath. It didn’t mean he was safe, but it was a good sign. And right about now, she’d take any positive sign possible.
She turned in a full circle, searching for him. She even ventured the rest of the way down the embankment. There was no sign of him. The crash must have spooked him. How far had he run? And how long would he last in the extreme conditions? She repeatedly called his name.
Between the thickening clouds and the heavy snow, visibility wasn’t great. With the deepest, most painful regret, she realized she couldn’t help Gizmo. A sob caught in her throat. The backs of her eyes stung. She couldn’t fall apart—not yet. She had to get Jackson to safety and then she’d return to continue her search for Gizmo. The car continued to smoke and smolder, so she scooped up some armfuls of snow and heaped them on the hood, hoping to douse the flames. She then moved to the side of the car and, catching sight of a bag in the back seat, she retrieved the large duffel bag.
She returned to the rock where the man was still sitting. “I need to get you out of this weather.”
“What were you doing?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Just now. You were searching for something.” And then his eyes widened. “That dog. He’s yours.”
Once more her eyesight blurred with unshed tears. She blinked repeatedly. She nodded.
“It almost killed me.” The man’s deep voice rumbled.
Serena’s chin lifted and her gaze narrowed in on him. “And you might have very well killed him.”
As though her pointed words had deflated him, the man had the decency to glance away. His anger immediately dissipated as the gravity of the situation sunk in.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “I tried to miss him.”
“I called him and I searched around, but I didn’t find any sign of him.”
“And just now, when you returned to the car, were you looking under it for your dog?”
She struggled to keep her emotions in check. She nodded. It was the best she could do.