The Snapshot Bride_A Cobble Creek Romance_Country Brides & Cowboy Boots

by Kimberly Krey

  The sun shone in full force as Kira took the turn into the airport. Just the sight of the tarmac from a distance, the planes coming and going overhead, all of it caused an odd sort of cabin pressure to build right there in her compact car. Anthony had shown her how to use a pressure cooker just last week. He’d pointed out the dos and don’ts. Explained how the contraption needed time to build, and then release pressure with each use, which made Kira relate to the thing on some level. It was very human to build pressure over time. Most explosive outbursts were layered with mounds of pressure. Layers that had built up over years. And then, with the simplest trigger, it could go off.

  Kira gripped the steering wheel and forced out a pursed-lipped breath. She didn’t have steam to let off, did she? She didn’t think so. Kira had finally found the happiness she was looking for. The place she belonged whether her family believed she’d stay put or not. And that’s what mattered most.

  After locking up the car, Kira weaved through the lot. This section of parking was covered, and the lack of sunlight made it feel like winter had made a sudden comeback. She folded her arms over her chest as she scanned the exit gate. Calm, Kira. Calm. Things will be great.

  “Burger, deep-fried mushrooms, and a root beer,” Anthony said as he slid Sheriff Trent Lockheart’s lunch across the counter. “Can I get you anything else?”

  Trent shook his head. “No, looks great. Hey, I can’t thank you enough for all your help last night. According to Judy, the fire station suffered leaks in years past, but nothing so severe.”

  Anthony covered a yawn. “I was happy to help. Never know how much damage a runoff like that can cause.”

  “I’ll say,” Benny said around a mouth of food. He nudged the sheriff. “That’s what I was telling Trent. We had one heck of a winter. And when things heat up quick, we can end up with a big mess.”

  Trent dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “Glad the majority of town sits outside the danger zone,” he said, lifting his drink to where the straw waited an inch from his lips. “Better to have the fire station at risk than the health clinic, or someone’s home or personal business.”

  Anthony nodded. “True enough. And we’ve got one heck of a community. That’s what I love about this place.”

  “Hear, hear,” Benny cheered, lifting his cup of root beer with a stretched out arm.

  Anthony secured a fresh glass from under the counter to play along, straightening his arm to clank it against the officers’. “Hear, hear.” He brought the empty glass to his lips and tipped it back, way back, before placing it solidly on the counter. “Good stuff.”

  “Hey,” Benny said. “Since the ladies are getting together for book club tonight, some of us are heading out for some bowling if you want to come.”

  Anthony tilted his head as he weighed the option. “Thanks. If Kira takes longer than she plans, I might just take you up on that.”

  He gave the two a nod before slipping out of the serving area and striding down the hall toward his office. He lowered himself onto the wheeled chair and stewed. Talking with Sheriff Lockheart and Benny Gains had triggered something: a spot of discomfort that was spreading dangerously fast. The flood. The fact that something as innocent and natural as melting snow could cause a lot of damage under the right (or wrong) circumstance. The very idea crawled into his brain like a tick. Sneaky at first. Hardly even recognized. But boy, could it cause a lot of trouble if it wasn’t snuffed out.

  For Anthony, it was fear. Fear that having Kira’s sister in town might trigger those old feelings of inadequacy. That impulse to prove herself to her family. Which could result in her picking up and leaving.

  The first spot of fear surfaced as Kira walked out of the diner that morning after kissing him goodbye. He couldn’t scratch the image. Suddenly it was his mom, then Ruth, then Elsie, each walking thoroughly out of his life. Never to return.

  Anthony pounded a fist against his desk. “Enough,” he grumbled, kicking the small trashcan by his feet. He told Kira he wouldn’t fear her. That he didn’t fear her. Besides, this had more to do with Anthony than it did Kira Moretti. Perhaps what he needed was a good counseling session or two. Clear his head of the issues he’d faced since his mother left.

  He knew Kira was only gone for a few hours, but a sudden loneliness kicked in. He remembered the way his dad changed after his diagnoses. He’d tendered up real quick after that. And he made a habit of asking Anthony for something he needed in increased doses as he went through treatments: hugs. Wordlessly, the man would nod to him, lift his arms, and look at him expectantly.

  Anthony would respond gladly, needing the closeness as well. The longest embrace they shared was after they discovered he wasn’t responding to the treatments as they’d hoped. And that—at best—he had another two months to live. On that day Dad didn’t have to ask. He’d simply looked at Anthony after the doctor gave them time to discuss their limited options. The slightest nod and Anthony was there. Glad that the big, strong man had it in him to show that he needed it. He remembered wondering who’d be there to embrace him once Dad was gone.

  That’s when the book club stepped into action. Run by a couple ladies from the church on Steeple Street, one being the pastor’s wife, the collection of woman swooped in with casseroles, books on grieving, framed inspirational quotes, and plenty of hugs to go with each thoughtful delivery. The fine community of Cobble Creek at its best. Thank the good Lord for it. Anthony did just that every day.

  The more recent gratitude at his lips was centered around Kira. Daily he lifted thanks for her and vowed he’d do right by her the best he could. He put his mind in that mode and rolled his chair back enough to hoist his feet onto his desk. Hunkering deeper into the comfortable office chair, Anthony leaned his head back and closed his eyes, ready to catch up on some much-needed rest after the flood. And hoping to avoid disaster of a whole different kind.

  Chapter 17

  Kira’s family always said she stood out in a crowd. Loud. Boisterous. Sure to be seen and heard. In school, that might have been true. But who wanted to go unnoticed among their high school class? She had stood out. Gained popularity for a number of things: Biggest Flirt. Cutest Brunette. And Kira’s personal favorite, Most Likely to Make You Spit Out Your Milk (the yearbook staff’s version of funniest guy or girl).

  Meanwhile, Marissa—her complete opposite—was never on the radar for stuff like that. The girl got straight and still wasn’t voted by her classmates as brainiest babe because she made it her job in life to blend. The thing was, had her older sister been some wild, rebellious child, Kira would’ve looked like the tame one. It was all relative.

  Still, as Kira scanned the crowd, considering her sister’s aversion to standing out, she spotted her among the moving heads with ease. People usually slouched as they sat or walked or stood. At least a little. Marissa didn’t. And her love for turtlenecks and layered clothes surfaced anytime she stepped out of the state of Nevada. As if the world were divided into two distinct areas: Nevada and Iceland.

  And there she was, back rod-straight, a bag in each fist as she strode, looking composed amongst a sea of chaotic bustling. Folks tapping at phone screens, scrambling for items in bags and backpacks, or chugging down bottles of water. Marissa, for all her work to go unnoticed over the years, stood out in a crowd after all, and Kira couldn’t help but be charmed by it.

  She grinned wide when their eyes met, her nerves all but gone. A rush of love and adoration poured into her at the sight of her sister. She scurried toward Marissa, rushing around a pillar, only to bump into the trash bin hiding behind it. Kira moved on, ducking beneath a retractable line barrier, and hurried over to give Marissa an exuberant hug.

  “Why didn’t you just wait until the end of the gate like everyone else?” Marissa grumbled, pointing to a crowd filtering through the gate’s exit.

  Kira only grinned. “I’m so glad you’re here.” And she meant it, for the most part. “Let me take these.” Kira pried a small carry-on case fro
m one hand and an oversized bag from the other. “Did you check luggage or is this it?”

  Marissa readjusted the purse strap hanging over her shoulder. “Just carry-on,” she said, turning to look behind her.

  “Well, are you hungry? Want to stop and get something to eat or just head right to my place? We can go to the diner and grab food once we get there if you’d like. Or they have this amazing little produce stand where they serve up fresh veggies with jicama, sweet peppers, all the fancy stuff you like …” Kira died off there as she realized Marissa was looking over her shoulder once more. Gawking was more like it.

  “Is there someone you want to talk to?” Kira asked, wondering if her sister had met someone during the flight.

  “Well,” Marissa said, her brown eyes tight as she searched, “I have a surprise for you.” She checked the gold watch at her wrist and muttered to herself. “Where are they?”

  They?

  Mom and Dad—her parents must’ve come too. Kira’s heart thundered as she turned to scan the passengers filtering out of the gate. She’d spoken with her parents about a dozen times or so since moving to Cobble Creek and texted more often than that. She’d sent pictures of the studio, outdoor snapshots of Main Street. Things between them were good. But they’d never hinted they might join Marissa for the trip there.

  A new wave of emotion took over as she considered seeing her parents now too. But then she saw something she hadn’t—for the life of her—expected to see. She thumped Marissa with her elbow. “Do you see who I see, or am I going crazy?” Monty—skinny, cocky, and tall—slithered along the outskirts of the crowd.

  “That’s who I was looking for.”

  “What!” If dumbfounded was an emotion, it had taken over every possible feeling she could feel. “But you said they. Like two people they.”

  “Yeah, see?” Marissa tipped her head in Monty’s direction. Kira jerked her eyes back to the crowd, barely able to get over the sight of her ex-boyfriend, when she spotted Finny Shea. “What is happening?” She hadn’t believed in such things as mortal enemies before, but in that moment those two fit the bill for Kira. And her sister had carted them all the way to her new place?

  “Don’t be mad at me,” Marissa said, stretching out the final word in a patronizing tone. “Python and Finny have a lot to talk to you about, and they insisted on doing that in person. In fact …” Marissa leaned in. “They’re the ones who paid for my flight here.”

  This had all just gotten way too weird. Kira had had plenty of dreams that didn’t make sense. Driving down a winding road in a Ferrari one moment only to open a beeping microwave the next. All so she could settle into a cloud that turned into a giant purple swimming pool. This—seeing Monty and Finny Shea in the Wyoming airport, having come with her sister, no less—was crazy-dream bizarre. Kira had to pause and consider whether or not she’d really gotten out of bed that morning.

  Marissa’s thin, waving arm was a silent siren, causing every sort of alarm to call out in Kira’s head. Gather the troops. We’ve got trouble heading our way. Still, she stood there, stunned-faced and bug-eyed, staring in horror as the odd, eccentric duo strutted toward her.

  “Just go with it,” Marissa mumbled. “You’ll find out why they’re here soon enough.”

  “Kira,” Monty called, tossing one arm around her. She knew hugs were supposed to be two-sided, but among the stiff denim of his jacket and the fresh shock from his presence, Kira couldn’t move. Finny came in for a one-armed hug next. Layers of white feathery fluff coated Finny’s scrawny frame, making her feel birdlike as Kira managed a pat to her back.

  “Thank you for letting us crash your party, dear,” Finny cooed in her thick Swedish accent. “We’ll let you have some time with your sister while we get caught up on rest—jet lag, you know. How about we meet up at, say, eight o’clock?”

  “That’d be perfect,” Marissa blurted.

  If Kira didn’t know better, she’d say her sister was star-struck—which was annoying, considering what the two had done to Kira.

  They toted off then, luggage dragging behind them as they headed toward the exit.

  “Don’t worry,” Marissa said. “They have their own rental car. They’re planning to stay at the Country Quilt Inn, so you won’t have to put them up or anything.”

  Kira turned to her sister. “Okay, time to speak up. What is going on?”

  “So those guys came in on the same flight as you?” Kira floored the pedal in her small car as it puttered up to speed.

  “No, they came in straight from L.A. on Finny’s private jet,” Marissa said. “I just told them when I was flying in so they could come at the same time.”

  “I would literally rather die than talk to either one of those guys,” Kira said.

  “Would you please avoid using the word literal in a non-literal sense? I’m around middle school kids all day, for crying out loud.”

  Kira wasn’t so sure it wasn’t in the literal sense. “I have nothing to say to those clowns. Why are they even here?”

  Marissa leaned her head deeply to one side, speaking as she rolled forward and tipped it the other way in a neck stretch. “They don’t want me to tell you, so I’m not telling you. You’ll find out as soon as we meet up with them.”

  “This is … I was hoping to just have some time with my sister, you know? Show you around the studio and the town, introduce you to some people …”

  “Like your new boyfriend?” Marissa asked it like she was talking to a young student. One whose romance could only fit into some silly world of pretend.

  “Yes,” Kira said with a sigh. She swallowed hard and squeezed the steering wheel, wishing she could clench the chaos in her stomach before it spread over her entire body. “Listen, Marissa. We all have pieces of our past that, like, sting.” She paused there, wondering briefly if her sister would relate. “Python and Finny are the worst piece of my past. People I’d be happy to go my entire life without seeing ever again. So having this—whatever it is—sprung on me like this is my worst nightmare.”

  “No, not your worst nightmare. I’m sure that would be something a little more intense. Like burning to death. Watching your loved ones burn to death. Why does this generation have to exaggerate so much?”

  “Marissa?” Kira snapped. “Could you just be human for a minute? I’m not one of your students, and unless you’ve miraculously aged a hundred years, you and I are from the same generation, so just knock it off.”

  Marissa cleared her throat and turned her head toward the scenery out her window. They were on the freeway now, surrounded by blue sky, the occasional field of growing green, and a whole lot of roaming cattle.

  Kira took the next twenty minutes to organize her thoughts. Things she could say that wouldn’t sound spiteful or angry and above all—dramatic. “I think it’s fair to say most people don’t want to run into their ex-boyfriends. Do you agree?” She glanced over in time to see Marissa nod. A big, appreciative nod. Good. “Especially if things ended badly. Which in this case—they did. Very badly.”

  “True,” Marissa agreed again. Perhaps this wouldn’t be as bad as Kira feared. At least the getting-through-to-her-sister part.

  “And to make the situation worse, the woman who represents a huge part of that pain—the uber-successful fashion designer who believed him over me—is here too. Basically, the pair represents a period of my life that I’d rather forget ever happened. And so when you add to that the fact that your only sister arranged the entire thing without even consulting you, it’s a lot to take in.”

  “That makes sense,” Marissa said with another nod.

  Either her sister had shifted from teaching to counseling at the middle school, or she’d learned to diffuse Kira’s anger over the years.

  “I would never set you up to get hurt, Kira,” Marissa said. “I’m actually trying to make up for being kind of a crummy sister lately.”

  Kira lifted a brow.

  Marissa smiled. “I don’t want to give you
all the details because I told them I wouldn’t, but the reason I allowed this is because I think you’ll be very happy with what they’re offering. Part of which is a chance to clear up the Moretti name, along with an apology—which I think is long overdue.”

  Those last few words were antacids to the burning in her heart. “You do?”

  Marissa shot her a surprised look. “Of course I do. The whole family wants that for you.”

  Kira nodded, needing that tidbit more than she knew. “That’s nice to hear, actually.”

  “I don’t know why you’re surprised. We all just want what’s best for you.”

  “Thanks,” Kira said with a grin. “I know. Of course.” She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to tack on that last part. Perhaps Kira was assuring them both that she knew that much. Her family wanted nothing less than the best for her. That had never been the issue. Determining whether or not she could obtain what was best—or even identify it—was the real issue.

  She thought back on the awkward greeting at the airport. Ugh. Kira was making a name for herself out there, and she hated the idea of two detached-from-reality egomaniacs waltzing in and ruining it. In all fairness, Kira had no right to call Finny Shea names. The woman was eccentric, sure, but she’d never been mean. Just wrong about whom she believed in the whole stolen images scandal. And who could blame her for believing the snake, since she was falling in love with him?

  At least she would finally put this behind her. With any luck, the pair would be gone by tomorrow, and Kira could get on with her life. Now she just had to update Anthony with the limited details she had. She was already dreading it.

  Chapter 18

  Anthony stared down the glossy lane to the white pins beneath the lights. He channeled all the frustration raging through him, then rushed in to unleash the ball. The sixteen-pounder let out a low growl as it spun over the polished wood like a panther in pursuit. In one fast explosion, the pins scattered, creating a deceiving show; once the dust cleared, the ball sinking into the machine’s gullet, two pins remained—the pin far on the left and the opposite pin at the far right.