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“Well, hell, I’ll be.” He’d seen her a year ago when she passed through White Bear, had a flat tire, and he'd really hoped she'd moved to White Bear so he could date her.

“Why did you try to protect your car when I couldn't brake? I could have killed you.”

Now she was scolding him? “Your brakes weren’t working?” Bad brakes were not a good scenario at any time, but especially during a blizzard.

“No. What do you think? That I was trying to run you over?”

“Some people hate getting a traffic ticket for violating the law.”

She scoffed.

He smirked while she tried to dig at the snow, but she was only using her left hand and wasn’t progressing. “Here, let me do it.”

“Be my guest.” She handed him the shovel and pulled her cell phone out of her pocket.

“No reception.” He didn’t have to look at the bars on her phone or his. He’d already tried calling for help when his vehicle got stuck.

“Iknow. I thought I would try again, just in case. What about your radio?” She sounded just as exasperated with him as he was with her.

“In the car, but you can’t get to it until I’m out from under it.”

“I. Know. That.”

He smiled a little, amused by her response to his comment. But he wasn’t making much headway digging himself out. She watched for a while as he struggled to extricate himself. He groaned as the movement sent shooting pains through his injured ankle.

“Here.” She pulled the shovel out of his hands, appearing irritated. Again, she used her left hand only to dig.

She needed to use both hands to make any headway. It finally dawned on him that she might have also been injured.

“You injured your right hand?”

She glanced at him. “Yes. And I’m right-handed.” She struggled just as much to dig him out, but she was wincing a lot as she worked on the snow, one little shovelful at a time.

It appeared she had just as little patience with him trying to get himself out as much as he did while watching her make the effort. Then, he finally figured that was good enough and tried to use his good foot to push himself out.

“You’re probably not strong enough to pull me out, but maybe with you pulling and me pushing, I can get out from under the car.”

“You know what? Sure. I can do this.” She began yanking off her clothes, but then groaned and took it a lot slower.

He knew then what she planned to do, but hoped she wouldn’t bite him once she was in her polar bear fur coat. She was a pretty blonde with a great-looking body, well-toned, and looked stronger than he gave her credit for.

Then she shifted into her bear—a beautiful white bear with big white teeth. She reached down, grabbed his jacket collar with her teeth, and pulled him out. He groaned as his ankle hurt even worse, though the snow helped keep the swelling down. He would need to remove his boot.

As hard as she’d pulled to free him from underneath his vehicle, he was sure his jacket collar wore her teeth marks—something more to remember her by.

She moved over to her clothes, shifted, and dressed. “Okay, you’re free. I’ll try to find your radio.”

“If your hand hurts?—”

“It does. But your ankle is injured, and it might be more than just a sprain. I think the airbag tore the ligaments in my thumb. I don’t think I have any broken bones.”

“And your back?”

“Yeah, it hurts. Whiplash, pulled muscles, most likely.” She started to climb to the top of his vehicle, and it settled deeper into the snow.

He was glad he was no longer pinned underneath it.

She tried to open the door. “It won’t budge. You can wait in my car for someone to arrive to take care of you.”