She cracked open a can of beer, downed it in one go, and hurled the empty can with all her might.
Letting out a long sigh, she stood there, her heart aching. Her mother had jumped to conclusions without knowing the first thing about the situation, and that was what she couldn’t stand the most.
"What are you caterwauling about?" a cool, masculine voice cut in from nearby.
She turned to see a tall figure standing right beside her. Nora Ainsworth’s heart leaped into her throat. She stumbled back, terrified.
"A ghost!"
The next thing she knew—SPLASH!—her body toppled off the rock and into the river.
Quentin Grant scoffed. "What a character."
"Ah! Help ! I can’t swim—" As she spoke, her mouth filled with water. Her body began to sink, her hands flailing on the surface a few tis before disappearing beneath.
Quentin Grant cursed under his breath and leaped in after her.
The river was frigid. If it weren’t autumn, a person could freeze to death in there.
He quickly wrapped an arm around her and swam to the surface. By the ti they were out of the water, she was unconscious. Quentin Grant had no choice but to perform chest compressions, followed by mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
Nora Ainsworth finally responded, coughing up so water. She was shivering all over.
She blearily looked at the man beside her. "Are... are you a man or a ghost?"
He stood up and said coolly, "What do you think?"
His voice sounded vaguely familiar. She scrambled to her feet and followed his silhouette up the bank.
His car was parked there. Quentin Grant opened the door, got in, and turned on the interior light.
When she saw his face, Nora Ainsworth was struck by how small the world was. She seed to run into him everywhere.
She stood outside the car window, shivering uncontrollably. "Hey, let in. I need to warm up."
He leisurely dried his hair with a towel. "And why should I? How are you going to settle the debt for saving your life just now?"
"However you want to settle it."
Satisfied, Quentin Grant unlocked the passenger door. "First, take off your wet clothes."
Nora Ainsworth glared at him, retorting, "Your clothes are wet too. Why don’t *you* take them off?"
"Because this is my car. Take it or leave it. If you don’t get in, I’m driving off."
’Why did I have to take a taxi here? Why didn’t I drive my own car?!’ Nora Ainsworth was suddenly filled with regret.
Dejected, she quickly said, "Fine, I’ll take them off."
She had no choice but to slowly strip off her outer layer, wring it out, and climb into the passenger seat in just her underclothes. The mont she was inside, a pleasant warmth enveloped her.
"Did you turn on the heat?"
"Mhm."
Nora Ainsworth quickly tried to hold her wet clothes up to the vent, hoping they would dry faster.
Quentin Grant shot her a sidelong glance. "Throw those wet clothes out the window."
"If I throw them out, what will I wear?"
"I’m a nice guy. I’ll buy you a new outfit. I definitely won’t let you run around naked. Now, either you throw them out, or you get out of my car."
Reluctantly, Nora Ainsworth tossed the clothes out, feeling as though this rogue had her completely under his thumb.
He nodded in satisfaction, a triumphant glint in his eyes.
He started the engine, hit the gas, and drove away.
"What were you doing out here in the middle of the night?"
Nora Ainsworth felt awkward sitting next to a man while so exposed and wide awake—even if their relationship wasn’t exactly "pure." She asked sheepishly, "And what about you? What are *you* doing here?"
"I ca to enjoy the view."
Nora Ainsworth imdiately found his reason suspect. "It’s pitch-black out. What kind of view are you enjoying in the dark?"
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