by Susan Stoker
After a year back in his hometown of Hellfire, he still jumped at loud noises and dropped into a fighting stance when someone sneaked up behind him. But the bucolic life of the small town had helped him learn to breathe deeply again. Well, not too deeply when the wind blew from the direction of the local stockyard. The stench of cattle crap and urine filled the air.
Other than the usual teenaged hijinks and an occasional domestic quarrel, things were pretty laid back. Almost too much so. Thankfully, when he wasn’t on the job, Nash had the family ranch to retreat to. There he could work with the animals and burn off some of his restless energy.
Although he was nearing the end of his shift, Nash didn’t mind checking out the drag racing report. A typical Saturday in the country. Hellfire didn’t have a bowling alley or movie theater. The only organized activities available to the kids were football and rodeo. High school football games drew everyone out on Friday evenings in the fall. Which left Saturday and Sunday to do chores before the kids returned to school on Monday and parents to work. But after chores, the teens liked to gather at the town’s only fast food drive-in or find a place to raise hell out in the countryside. Everything from cow-tipping to mud-riding in the bottoms.
Today’s hell-raising just happened to be drag racing.
Nash pulled into the rutted gravel road leading to the abandoned Dunwitty silos. Apparently the race was in full swing, because all eyes were on the vehicles at the center of the mob. Two tricked-out trucks, with knobby tires and fat chrome exhaust pipes, shot out of the crowd of young people and barreled along the wide gravel road running half a mile in length. Their engines rumbled, the sound reverberating through the warm, late-afternoon air.
Guys in jeans, cowboy boots and hats punched the air, whooping and hollering. Girls in frayed cutoffs and shirts tied at their midriffs, laughed and screamed for the drivers to go faster.
Nothing Nash could do at that point would slow the racing trucks. If he didn’t know they were trespassing, he’d enjoy the race and then slip away before anyone was the wiser about his presence there.
But this was Dunwitty’s place and the clearly posted NO TRESPASSING signs out front were all the rules Nash needed. He followed the rules, the structure of his job and his life giving him comfort.
When the trucks reached the end of the road, the crowd of young people shouted, yelled, hooted and whistled for the winner. The trucks turned around and drove back to the silos, stopping as the kids converged on them.
Nash got out of his vehicle. Time to spoil the fun.
One young man, Johnny Austin, spotted Nash before he reached the edge of the crowd. “Time to leave,” he shouted, loud enough to be heard over the noise of the celebration.
All faces turned toward him.
With a wave, Nash jerked his head toward the silos. “Sorry, folks. I gotta break it up. You’re trespassing.”
“Aw,” the group said as a collective.
The guys and girls piled into the cars and trucks and filed out of the Silo area, one by one.
Once they’d all gone, Nash climbed into his SUV and headed back to town to hang up his hat and go home. Another day, another dollar. The excitement was killing him. He chuckled. He’d thought about going to work in Houston, where a shooting occurred every day. Maybe more. But he liked being near the ranch, the horses and cattle. He’d missed it when he’d been on active duty.
Perhaps he needed a woman in his life. Like his brother Becket, who’d never been happier. Up until Kinsey had come back into his brother’s life, Nash had been content to be a bachelor. Seeing them together, always touching and kissing…Never mind the headboard banging and springs squeaking into the wee hours of the morning. Nash had gone so far as to sleep in the barn a few times, or asked for the night shift to avoid the happy copulating going on in the ranch house master bedroom.
Yeah, Houston was looking more and more like a possibility.
Ahead, he spied a strange sight. A shiny black convertible, with cans strung out behind and a banner proclaiming JUST MARRIED, sped toward town, white fabric ballooning up from the driver’s seat like a parachute.
His interest spiked, and he increased his speed, hoping to catch up to the car to check it out.
Chapter Two
‡
No. No. No.
This could not be happening. Phoebe tried to back away from the fence post, but the convertible’s rear tires spun in the dry Texas dust. The front bumper, seeming to have adhered to the fence post, refused to let go.
To make her shithole of a life worse, a county sheriff’s SUV pulled to a stop on the pavement. A man in a dark brown uniform, wearing a black cowboy hat with a badge pinned to it stepped out. He hurried down into the ditch, arriving at her door all too soon. “Ma’am, are you okay?”
The wind picked up again and lifted the dress, smothering her face. Phoebe struggled to keep it down, failing miserably. In a stolen car, with a dead body in the trunk, she was going to jail. No doubt in her mind. If by some slim chance, she could get away, maybe she could hide the body, or take it back to the church where all of this had begun. Yeah, she could take back the car and the body.
“Excuse me, ma’am.”
“Huh?” She blinked and stared into the startling blue eyes of the sheriff’s deputy looking down at her.
He tipped his hat. “I’m Deputy Grayson. I asked if you were okay.” He gave a hint of a smile, making a ruggedly handsome face even more attractive.
At least if she were to be arrested, she’d be frisked by a cute deputy. She giggled, hysteria threatening to take over.
“Do you need help getting out of the car?” he asked.
Did she need help? Lord knew she needed help, but this deputy wasn’t the kind of help she needed at the moment. Only a miracle could save her from this disaster. “No. I just need help getting the car off the fence.”
The deputy rounded the front of the vehicle and shook his head. “Put it in reverse. I’ll see if I can kick the bumper loose from the fence post. On three…”
Phoebe nodded, shifted the car into reverse and waited for his cue.
“One.” Bracing a hand on the fence post, he stepped up on the bumper of the car. “Two…three.” Grayson bounced hard on the bumper at the same time as Phoebe goosed the gas pedal.
The car broke free of the fence post, the back tires found traction, lumbered up the embankment and back onto the highway, where metal scraped against pavement. For a moment, Phoebe wondered, if she shifted into drive, could the convertible outrun the deputy’s vehicle. Then she remembered the flat tire.
Deputy Grayson jogged up the incline and stopped in front of her hood, inspecting the front of her vehicle, his lips twisting. “The bumper’s got a nasty dent, and your tire is destroyed. You’ll need to change it before you go any farther.”
“No. I can’t,” she said, her heart thumping hard in her chest. She crossed her fingers beneath the folds of her wedding dress. “I don’t have a spare.”
“Are you sure?” He rolled his hand. “Pop the trunk. Sometimes they’re hidden beneath the trunk lining.”
“No, really. I checked a few minutes ago.” She shifted into drive and glanced over her shoulder. I have to get away from him. “I’ll just have to drive it flat into the next town.”
“No need.” He keyed the mic on the radio clipped to his shoulder. “Gretchen, I have a disabled vehicle on the highway east of town. We’ll need a tow truck to retrieve it.”
“No, no. I can take care of it myself. No need to bother anyone,” Phoebe said, her grip tightening on the wheel. “Really.”
“No bother. If you’ll just hand me the keys, I’ll have the service man tow it to the shop, change out the tire, and you can be on your way, barring any damage from the collision with the fence post.” Bracing his feet apart, he held out his hand. “First, I’ll need to see your license and registration.”
“Well…you see…” Heat rose up her cheeks. “I kind of left in a hurry…” She g
lanced down at her dress. “I forgot to bring my purse with my driver’s license.” Phoebe glanced up at the deputy.
“Well, I’m sorry, ma’am, but I can’t let you drive without a license.” He leaned into the window and pointed at the glove box. “Let me see the vehicle registration, please.”
Phoebe leaned over the console and fished in the glove box for anything resembling a registration, sweat popping out on her forehead. She found a slim, black folder beneath the convertible’s owner’s manual. Inside it was…surprise! The registration papers. The vehicle wasn’t Ryan’s. He’d rented it.
She didn’t know whether to be relieved or not. Pulling the paper from the envelope, she handed it to Deputy Grayson. “Is this what you were looking for?”
“Yes, ma’am. Please step out of the vehicle.”
“Am I being arrested?” she asked, her pulse hammering through her veins. If he arrested her, would he have the right to search the vehicle? So much for independence. Phoebe could see that she would have to call her father and get him and his expensive attorneys to bail her out of jail.
“No, I hadn’t planned on arresting you.” He tilted his head. “Should I?”
Phoebe widened her eyes. “N-no. Of course not. I haven’t broken any laws.” She crossed her fingers behind her back. Except one. Grand theft auto. Although, it was a rental and the man who’d rented it was in it, so she really hadn’t stolen it. Had she?
“I can’t remember if driving under the influence of a wedding dress was covered in the police academy.” Deputy Grayson’s lips twitched. “But driving without a license is against the law. I won’t arrest you if you step out of the vehicle and allow me to escort you to town. When you obtain that license, you can drive.”
“Oh. Well. I guess I could send for it. But I can’t have you tow the vehicle and change the tire. You see, because I don’t have my purse, I don’t have money or credit cards to pay for the work.” With the registration papers in hand, she pulled the keys from the ignition, gathered her skirts and stepped out of the convertible. “Couldn’t we just leave it here for now?”
“Sorry, but we can’t leave it on the road.” He held out his hand for the registration papers. “Well, this helps. Since this is a rental car, the agency should foot the bill for the towing and the new tire. All it will take is to call them and get them moving on it.”
“How nice.” Phoebe stared at the trunk, wondering what the rental car company would think about the excess luggage they’d find when they came to collect the vehicle.
No, the body couldn’t be there when the rental car company arrived. Phoebe had to get Ryan out of the trunk before anyone found him. “If the rental car company will take care of the repairs, shouldn’t we leave it here for them to collect it? Maybe they have their own wrecker service they like to call,” she suggested.
“There’s only one in Hellfire. Since you’ve also bent the front bumper, you might have damaged the radiator or something else in the engine. The car really needs to be checked before you get back on the road.”
The man clearly wouldn’t let the damned car sit on the side of the road.
While she stood there arguing, another vehicle appeared on the highway, heading in their direction. Phoebe dragged in a deep breath and blew it out.
A wrecker drove past them, turned around, passed them again and then backed up to the convertible. Painted on the side of the truck was the name Grayson’s Auto Shop.
Phoebe fought to keep from rolling her eyes. She raised her brows and stared at Deputy Grayson. “A relative of yours?”
The deputy smiled, causing the butterflies in Phoebe’s belly to flap. “My brother.” Grayson nodded toward the driver of the vehicle. “If you’ll ride with me, then my brother will take care of your vehicle.”
“Thanks, but I’ll ride with the tow truck,” she said.
“Are you always so argumentative?” Deputy Grayson asked.
“Not usually.” She’d never argued with her folks. Today had been her big day to break all the rules she’d grown up with. And what had it bought her? Potential jail time!
Nash put the woman’s nerves down to having wrecked and—by the looks of her—being late for a wedding.
Hers.
He found himself thinking it was too bad. She was pretty with long dark red hair tumbling around silky, smooth shoulders. A guy would be lucky to get a pretty thing like her for a wife.
“Is there someone I need to call?” he asked, holding out a hand to help her out of the vehicle. “I take it you might be late for a wedding.”
“No.” She glanced down at her dress and then up at him, her eyes wide, her bottom lip trembling. “I’m not late for a wedding. I…I changed my mind.”
A strange feeling of relief washed over Nash as she placed her hand in his and turned, edging bare feet out of the car door.
“Ma’am, do you have shoes somewhere beneath all of that dress?”
She shook her head and grimaced. “No. I kicked off my shoes as I ran out of the church.”
“Do you have a spare pair stowed in the trunk?”
Her eyes widened even more. “No!” She dipped down her head and continued in a more sedate tone. “I brought nothing with me. No purse, no suitcase. The trunk is empty. Really.”
“Then let me help you to my vehicle.” He leaned down and scooped her out of the car, lifting her into his arms, the dress billowing up around them both.
She squealed and looped an arm around his shoulders. “You don’t have to carry me. I can walk barefooted.”
“I can see that.” He tipped his head toward her scratched feet with the pretty, pale pink nail polish.
“Hey, Nash, whatcha got there?” Rider’s chuckle sounded from next to the wrecker.
Nash straightened with his load and faced his brother.
Rider, the closest in age to him of the Grayson brothers, sauntered toward them, a grin spreading across his face.
“Miss—” Damn, he hadn’t even gotten her name. “Ma’am, what’s your name?”
“Phoebe.” She chewed on her lip and then added, “Smith. Phoebe Smith.”
Something about her answer didn’t sit right, but Nash was more concerned about his brother’s dumbass grin. “Miss Smith’s had a minor fender bender in a rental vehicle. You’ll need to tow it to town, and contact the rental car company to see what they want to do about the crunched bumper and the flat tire.”
“Got it.” Rider tipped his cowboy hat and held out a hand to Phoebe. “Rider Grayson. Pleased to meet you.”
She took his hand and gave him a hesitant smile. “Pleasure’s mine.” She shot a glance at the car on the side of the road. “If you’d just tow it to town, I’ll call the rental car company and make arrangements for it from there.”
He touched the brim of his hat. “Yes, ma’am.”
“And I’ve already checked in the trunk,” she added. “There isn’t a spare. So no need to change the tire.”
“I’ll tow it, and let it sit until you give me further instructions. Uh, do you always dress this way for outings?” His gaze swept the dress, and he winked.
Her cheeks flushed and her arm tightened around Grayson’s neck. “No. Never.”
Ready to move on, Nash frowned at his brother. “If you’re done with the questions, I’ll escort Phoebe to town. We’ll see you there.”
Again, Rider touched the brim of his hat. “See you soon.”
Damn, Rider had that come-to-hell-with-me smile the ladies loved. By the way Phoebe blushed, she was no different. Didn’t Rider get it? The woman had skipped out on a wedding, leaving some poor schmuck standing at the altar, bride-less. She didn’t deserve sympathy.
Nash marched to his vehicle, juggled the woman in his arms to half-free a hand from the voluminous folds of the wedding dress and opened the back door. When he leaned down to place her on the seat, her arms locked around his neck and her cheek pressed against his.
“Deputy Grayson,” she whispered against his ear
.
Her breath warmed Nash’s neck, and the scent of honeysuckle wrapped around his senses, making him pause to drag in a deep breath. “Ma’am.”
“Do I have to ride in the back?” she asked, her voice shaking. “Please, I don’t want to go to jail.”
He chuckled and straightened, leaning his head back to look into the most startlingly soft green eyes he’d ever seen. At that moment, they were the color of the moss that grew on the sides of the live oak trees. “It’s just to get you to town. Regulations state I can’t let anyone but another deputy, or the sheriff, ride up front.” He tipped his head toward the front passenger seat, filled with the usual mobile computer and electronics typical of modern police work. “Besides, there isn’t much room for you and your dress up front.” His lips pulled upward in a smile.
Phoebe chewed on her bottom lip for a moment and then nodded. “I guess it’s okay. I just…I never…rode in the back of a police car.”
“It’s no different than riding in the back seat of any other vehicle, except the child safety locks are engaged. I’ll have to let you out.”
She heaved a sigh, the rounded swells of her breasts rising and falling beneath Nash’s chin.
Damn, she smelled good, and he bet there was a gorgeous body to match the breasts, all hidden beneath the ridiculous amount of white fluffy material.
Nash deposited her on the back seat, almost dumping her like a bag of hot potatoes before he got too used to holding her against his body. He didn’t need complications in his life. Phoebe had complication written all over that pure white wedding dress.
Intent on taking her to town and dropping her off on the nearest sidewalk, he bundled all of the dress inside with her and slammed the back door. Hurrying around the side of the SUV, he glanced across at his brother, standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, that damned grin spreading across his face.
“What?” he demanded, his voice terse, his temper rising.
“Nothing. I just never pictured you carrying a bride.” Rider nodded. “Looks good on you, bro.”
