The lines on his forehead deepen. “You did. And I thought… Well. The police are so busy tonight. I know women need their purses, and if you wanted to pay for a hotel room…”
But I didn’t. Obviously. “Why didn’t you give it to the police?” I ask. “I’m sure they would have gotten it to me.”
“I have four-wheel-drive,” he explains. “And I’m not far from here. Just a couple miles outside town. It wasn’t a big deal.”
Except it was. Because finding me in the parking lot of Ellicott’s Engines can’t have been the first place he looked. “But here?” I start. “How?—”
“Vienna.” He cuts me off. “I don’t think that’s the important issue here. I’m more concerned with you sleeping in the back of your car. In a snowstorm. With the damn windshield cracked and wind blowing in and—” His jaw clenches. “It’s twenty degrees out, Vienna. Sleeping in a car is dangerous enough when it’s in one piece. But like this? Do youwantto freeze to death?”
Irritation flares hot. How easy for him to pass judgment when he doesn’t understand. When he has a fully functioning car and most likely a house to go back to. “Yes,” I retort dryly. “That was my goal. Freezing to death. I thought it might add a nice finish to an already crappy night.”
For a moment, it looks like he’s about to snap back at me. Then the angry lines in his features smooth out, and his mouth twitches. “Point taken. But, Vienna.” He casts a quick look around the interior of my car. “This isn’t safe. You know it isn’t.”
“I researched it. Camping in a car in the winter, I mean. There are lots of people who do it. That’s where I got the idea for the quilt, and the pillows…”
“The windshield is cracked,” he points out. The whole front of the car is smashed in. This isn’t the same thing.”
I want to argue with him. Insist that I know exactlywhat I’m doing. That everything is completely under control.
But I don’t. And it’s not.
“Vienna.” His tone softens. “I know we’re basically strangers. But I don’t want something bad happening to you.” Another sharp burst of wind comes through the open door. “It’s too cold for you to be out here. Not like this.”
For a few seconds, I hesitate.
Caleb’s right; wearebasically strangers.
But he’s also proven himself to be kind. Chivalrous. Trustworthy. And he went out of his way to find me when he had no reason to.
“How did you find me here?” I ask.
“I called the station,” he replies. “And I talked to Officer Nelson. Convinced her to tell me where she dropped you off. Then I called the owners of the B and B, and they said you never checked in?—”
“They told you that? Isn’t that information confidential?”
A sheepish expression flashes across Caleb’s face. “I grew up here,” he says. “And the Millers are friends with my parents. So they’ve known me since I was a baby. They trust me.”
So heisa local. “But I wasn’t there,” I point out.
“No. And you weren’t at the motel, either. Without your car, your purse, your wallet…” He grimaces. “I came here on a hunch. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Oh.
That darn lump in my throat comes back.
Tears burn my eyes.
None of my so-called friends back in Troy cared that I was effectively homeless. My mother certainly never cared about me. But this man I met only hours before was worried enough to go searching for me.Isworried enough to still be here right now.
“This is all I can afford,” I blurt before I can stop myself. “I was waiting to get my first paycheck to find an apartment. I thought I could camp in my car until then. Until…” I gesture at the wool blanket covering the windshield. “Until this.”
“The shelter,” he starts.
“My job is here. I won’t be able to keep it if I’m staying in Montpelier. And without a working car, no less.”
“The insurance company will cover a rental.”
“Not for a few days, at least. Assuming they cover it at all.”
