The Accidental Bride

by Denise Hunter

  “If you say so.”

  She didn’t look again. His words repeated in her head. The swaggering tone ringing clear as a bell. She wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all herself.

  A week later Shay was doing the breakfast dishes, when a knock sounded on the door. Olivia was at school and Travis had run to the hardware store, so she dried her hands and went to answer. Through the window, she saw a brown UPS truck.

  “Howdy, Shay,” Morton Spencer said through his grizzly beard. “Got a delivery—for Travis.” He handed over a small package.

  Shay looked at the return address label. Signature Jewelers.

  “Says to deliver it to his folks’ place, but since he’s living here now . . .” Morton shrugged and held out the form for her signature.

  She looked at the package, felt a small square box inside. Who was Travis buying jewelry for? He didn’t wear any himself, never had, except for the old wedding band he wore now.

  Surely he hadn’t bought something for her. Her birthday was past, and Christmas was three months off.

  But what if he had? What if he’d had it shipped to his folks’ house intentionally?

  “Shay? You gonna sign?” Morton shoved the form and pen toward her.

  Instead, Shay handed back the package. “You know, maybe you’d better take this next door, Morton.”

  His bushy gray brows popped up. “You sure?”

  She gave a friendly smile. “I’m sure. Thanks for bringing it by, though.”

  He shrugged his burly shoulders. “Suit yourself. Have a good one now.”

  “You too.”

  Shay closed the door and headed for the kitchen as a thread of happiness spiraled through her.

  26

  Travis watched Shay glide across the floor, her hips swaying with the line dance steps, thumbs hooked in her front pockets. The Chuckwagon was packed and noisy, their friends and neighbors ready for a fun night out after a full workweek. The lead singer of the Silver Spurs belted out the chorus.

  Dylan sank into the chair across from him, bearing a heaping plate of nachos with the works. “Help yourself,” his friend hollered over the music.

  Travis waved the plate away and turned his eyes toward Shay again. Olivia misstepped, bumped into Shay, and they laughed.

  The girl’s braces sparkled under the lights. She’d had them on a few weeks and never once complained of the pain. She proudly showed off her pink and purple bands at every opportunity. It felt good to do something to help her, something far-reaching. He could get used to this.

  “So, how’s all that going?” Dylan gestured toward Shay with a loaded nacho in his hand.

  Travis and Dylan had hit it off since his return, and Travis had confided in him about the real circumstances of his and Shay’s relationship.

  “Slow.” Travis pulled his eyes from Shay and took a long drink.

  Dylan smiled around a bite. “Not what I heard.”

  How did . . . Ah. Shay had told Abigail about their kiss. Then Abigail told Wade and Wade told Dylan. “Good to know the rumor mill’s in working order.”

  Another month had passed, and he was no closer to winning her heart than he had been. If anything, he was further away.

  “Think I scared her away,” he said over the din.

  “She doesn’t strike me as skittish. Reminds me of another filly I know,” Dylan said, looking across the room where Annie Stevens sat with her sister Sierra.

  Shay might have come across as strong and fearless. But Travis knew her the way others didn’t. “Not as tough as she seems.” In fact, deep down she was downright soft and vulnerable.

  The line dancers spun on their heels and faced the band, gliding to the right. He drank in Shay’s form. Square shoulders, narrow waist, legs that went forever. He realized he was ogling and tore his eyes away.

  But she was his wife, blast it—biblically and legally. Could he help it if he loved her? If he wanted her in every way? If he wasn’t careful, Thanksgiving would arrive and he’d be out on his tail end, his chance gone forever.

  The thought scared him spitless. It was the same fear that stopped him from broaching the topic of the rodeo finals. He was afraid of losing her. As much as he wanted her, he had to be careful. She’d had enough hurt for one lifetime. He had to earn her trust before breaking the news, but he was running out of time.

  He had to woo her, which was what he’d been trying to do. I could use some help here, God. I’m getting nowhere fast. Just like that dream he’d had. On a treadmill, going nowhere.

  Right now he just wanted to take her in his arms and hold her all night long. Protect her from all life’s hurts, soothe away the ones in her past. He could almost feel her lean softness pressed against him.

  The song drew to a close, and he watched her take a final twirl. The dancers began dispersing as the band kicked into a slow tune.

  “Excuse me,” he said, standing. “I have a woman to claim.”

  When the song ended, Shay turned toward the table and ran smack into Travis. She braced herself against the hard wall of his chest.

  Instead of backing away, he set his hands at her waist. “Dance with me.”

  It wasn’t a question, and he gave her no choice unless she wanted to make a scene.

  She slid her hands up to his shoulders and stared at the second white button on his shirt. They moved together, swaying to the introduction of “Bless the Broken Road.” Not this song. She always turned off the radio when it came on. The words always reminded her of Travis.

  Focus on the button. The round, pearly button with the white thread sticking from one of the holes. She didn’t have to think about footwork; they’d always moved well together, like two halves of a whole.

  She had to remember the heartbreak, the pain, the weeping nights and red-eyed days. She had to remember how long it had taken to get over him.

  Who was she kidding? She’d never gotten over him. Even Garrett had sensed it. He’d been jealous and suspicious. Little did he know, the only man he’d had to be jealous of was long gone.

  “Relax.” Travis’s hands slid up her sides. “Not gonna bite.”

  Her hands had knotted at his shoulders. She released the fabric of his shirt and smoothed the wrinkles. His shoulders were warm and hard beneath her palms. So strong, so sturdy. So Travis.

  She met his gaze and felt locked in time. The way he looked at her, with his heart in his eyes . . .

  His lips began moving with the lyrics. Every long-lost dream . . . He was singing them to her, and she wanted to believe he meant them. Believe he felt the way the song’s writer had, that the other women had only been a sign pointing him back to her.

  Stop it, Shay. Go back to the button.

  But she couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away. The chorus swelled, echoing feelings she’d tried to smother for years.

  Travis tightened his embrace, pulled her close until her cheek was against the soft cotton of his shirt.

  She shouldn’t. She really shouldn’t.

  Her palms flattened against his shoulders, ready to push. A protest formed on her lips, and she inhaled to give the words wings. But his musky scent snuffed out the objection. Instead, her hands slid around his shoulders.

  She heard his heart thudding inside his chest, deep booms. His chin came to rest on top of her head. It was just a dance. Just one dance. But it was heaven, and didn’t she deserve just this little slice of happiness? Just one song, was all she asked.

  She closed her eyes, giving in to the temptation. Oh, how she’d missed this. The way he made her feel. Like the rest of the world didn’t exist. It was just the two of them and enough love to see them through.

  The singer began the second chorus. She wanted to freeze time, wanted the song to last forever, because once it was over, things would return to normal. She couldn’t afford for them not to.

  She pulled in another lungful of Travis and nestled into the warmth of his chest, remembering all the other times he’d held her. In her parents�
�� barn, in the cab of his rattly pickup. Behind the school bleachers. It never got old. Not when she was young and green, and not now, fourteen years and countless heartaches later. But she was no longer naïve. No longer believed this feeling led to happily-ever-after.

  The chorus segued into the bridge. Almost over. She needed to start letting go. She was one tag and an interlude away from reality.

  She remembered the jewelry package that had arrived nearly a month ago. He’d never mentioned it, and he sure hadn’t given her anything. Maybe the jewelry had been for someone else. Maybe it was that Ella back in Texas. Maybe Shay was making a fool of herself over Travis McCoy all over again.

  The words ended and the melody began winding down. When the song ended, she would go back to being the old Shay. The smart Shay. She was strong, strong enough to stand on her own two feet, strong enough to do what was best.

  The final notes rang out. Travis pressed a kiss where his chin had rested.

  She planted her palms against his chest and gave a gentle push, looking away.

  “Shay . . .”

  She shook her head and turned away. As the audience applauded the band, she headed toward the table where Abigail and Wade were cuddled into one lump.

  Before she reached the table, she spotted Olivia in the back corner frowning at Katy O’Neil. She couldn’t see the girl’s expression, but she could read Olivia’s. She detoured, winding her way to the back of the room, forgetting all about the dance with Travis as protectiveness surged inside.

  As she neared the girls, she caught Katy’s words.

  “. . . why you wear that stupid ponytail. It looks like—”

  “Hello, Katy,” Shay said.

  The girl jumped, her expression changing from shock to an awkward smile. “Hi, Mrs. Brandenberger.”

  Don’t you mean Mrs. Hoboberger? Shay stopped the words from leaking out. Barely. “Talked to your dad earlier today. He’s bringing me some barbed wire tomorrow for my baskets.”

  Judging by her widened blue eyes, Katy got the hint. “Oh, that’s nice.” She glanced at Olivia. “Well, have fun, Olivia. See ya, Mrs. Brandenberger.” Her blond hair swung saucily as she scurried toward the dance floor.

  Shay turned to Olivia. “What was that about?”

  She shrugged. “She was making fun of my hair.”

  “What’s wrong with your hair? It’s beautiful.” Thick and naturally wavy and shiny to boot.

  “Said it looks like a monkey cut it with a hacksaw.”

  Shay scowled. She took exception to that, especially since she was the one who trimmed it. Maybe it was time for a real cut, at least one to shape it up. She still hadn’t used her birthday coupon for the Hair Barn.

  Shay put her arm around Olivia, guiding her toward the tables. “How about a real haircut?”

  “Could I?”

  Shay smiled. “Sure. We’ll do it this week, all right?”

  She was rewarded with a metal smile. “Thanks, Mom.”

  Olivia trotted toward the dance floor where Maddy was dancing freestyle. She remembered Travis’s caution about fixing everything for Olivia, but it was only a haircut. And if she could so easily help her daughter fit in, wouldn’t it be cruel not to?

  Shay headed toward the table where Wade and Abigail snuggled together.

  She took a seat across from them and stiffened when Travis, out of nowhere, pulled out the chair beside her. He sank into it, his knee brushing hers.

  She pulled away and sipped her watery soda, feeling suddenly exhausted. She wanted to run home and burrow under a thick pile of quilts.

  “Look at the girls,” Abigail said over the zippy country tune the band had started.

  Shay watched her daughter and Maddy working out their own steps to the song, laughing as they botched them. Olivia seemed to have forgotten all about Katy O’Neil.

  Maddy had discarded the ponytail for the night and added a few curls. Maybe Olivia would like a style like that. “I like Maddy’s hair.”

  “She begged me to curl it.” Abigail leaned forward. “I think there’s a boy.”

  Beside her, Wade frowned. “What?”

  Abigail smiled at him. “Settle down, Dad. I don’t think it’s fatal.”

  Travis was quiet, and Shay wondered what he was thinking, what he was feeling after that dance.

  No, she didn’t. She only wanted the night to end. She smothered a yawn.

  “You can go on, if you want,” Abigail said. “We can take Olivia home with us. Maddy’s been wanting her to spend the night for weeks.”

  This again. Why did it always come up when Travis was there? She felt his eyes on her, felt her shoulders stiffening at the thought of a night alone. Especially after that dance. Apprehension raced through her veins, speeding her heart.

  She tried for nonchalance. “Another time.”

  Abigail started to respond, then her eyes darted to Travis and back. “You sure?”

  She wondered what Abigail had seen on Travis’s face, and before she could stop herself, she looked. Just a glance. But it turned into something longer. His brow was quirked, but his lips formed a hard straight line.

  Travis knew she was afraid to be alone with him. His question from weeks ago was written all over his face. Chicken? Only this time he didn’t look amused.

  He thought he knew her so well. That he could just read her mind any ol’ time he pleased. That he knew what she wanted before she knew it herself. Well, he didn’t.

  She lifted her chin and shot him a look.

  Then she faced Abigail. “Actually, tonight would be great. Thanks, guys.”

  Abigail looked between the two of them. “Sure, anytime.”

  It was settled. Olivia was going to Maddy’s for the night, and she’d proven to Travis that she did trust herself to be alone with him. That resisting his charms was easy as pie. If her limbs suddenly quivered, if her shoulders suddenly felt heavy, it was only fatigue from a hard day’s work.

  27

  Travis gripped the steering wheel as he guided the truck toward home. Beside him, Shay huddled close to her door. A thick curtain of tension had fallen between them like fog on a cool autumn morning.

  Less than an hour ago she’d been soft and malleable in his arms. He’d dared to hope, just for the space of one song, that things might change. That Shay might realize how much he loved her and give him another chance.

  But as soon as the song ended, something shifted. She pushed him away, her guard as high as ever.

  His fingers ached now, and he loosened his grip on the wheel. She regretted letting Olivia spend the night with Maddy. He knew she would as soon as she gave in, but she’d never admit it. Certainly not to him.

  He drew in a deep breath and released it quietly. Help me remember she’s been hurt. That she’s only trying to protect herself. Hadn’t he just been thinking earlier this evening how vulnerable she was? Of course she’d try to protect herself. It was human nature.

  But having her in his arms for just those few minutes had been bliss. She smelled of sunshine and citrus. She seemed so willing to give herself to him. And then—boom! She was gone, just like that. If only he could recapture what they’d had on the dance floor.

  Or at least dispel this awkward silence. He flipped on the radio, and a slow country tune wafted from the speakers. Even with the music, tension thickened the air in the cab, swelling the molecules until it was hard to breathe. How long could this go on?

  He’d been waiting to tell her what he’d done. This wasn’t quite the moment he’d hoped for, but maybe it would soothe her worries, make her drop her guard a hair. He turned into the drive. Pebbles popped under the tires, loud in the quiet confines of the cab.

  When he pulled up to the house, he shut off the engine and she moved to get out.

  “Wait.” He stopped her with a hand on her arm. “I have something for you.”

  He felt her eyes on him while he gathered his thoughts. It was too dark to read her eyes.

  He reached int
o his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He pulled out a paper, unfolded it, and handed it to her.

  “What’s this?”

  He turned on the dome light. “Read it.”

  Her eyes squinted as she read, her brows going low. Her lips tightened.

  What was she thinking? Surely she’d be relieved to have the monkey off her back awhile.

  “You paid up my mortgage.”

  Her tone was flat, not what he expected. Maybe she was overwhelmed.

  “For six months. Through March. Thought it might help you breathe a little easier.”

  She aimed a smile in his direction, not quite meeting his eyes. “Thank you. That was very generous.”

  Her smile seemed forced. She reached for the handle.

  “Wait.”

  Shay stopped, her hand still on the lever.

  “Why are you sore at me?”

  She cleared her throat. “I’m not. How could I be—it was very thoughtful. I’m obliged.”

  She was out the door before he could move. Couldn’t get away from him fast enough. He tried not to feel hurt.

  He followed, catching up with her on the porch steps. “Can we talk?”

  She sighed. “About what?”

  “Shay . . .”

  “I’m tired.”

  So was he. Tired of trying to read her mind and being wrong. Tired of trying to figure out what was going on behind those green eyes.

  He shook his head. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

  “Don’t want anything from you.”

  Maybe that was the problem. She’d seemed to want something from him during that dance. But now . . .

  “You’re like a faucet, Shay. Running hot one minute, cold the next.”

  She glared at him. “I am not frigid.”

  He frowned, watching her open the door, her jaw set.

  “Never said you were.” Shoot, frigid was the last word that came to mind when he thought of Shay. She was full of passion and life. “Is that what your ex-husband said?”