Truman

by Lori Wilde

  “You’re not going anywhere, sister.” The words that spilled from her lips did not belong to Tess Dupree. It was the lingo of the new, improved Katie Prentiss. Resolutely, she grabbed Furlow’s left hand and wrestled the gun from her.

  “Let go of me!” Furlow howled furiously.

  Instead of fear, Katie felt exhilaration. She had been waiting her entire life for such a moment. For far too long, she’d hidden between the pages of a book, when all along her real self was just waiting for her to show up.

  Because of Truman, she no longer had to just read about life. She could live out her dreams on a large canvas. Truman had opened new vistas to her. He’d given her belief in herself. Katie didn’t have to pretend to be Tess Dupree to be confident and self-assured. She didn’t have to assume another’s identity.

  At that moment, Katie knew what she would do with the rest of her life. She was born to be a police officer, and she was born to be with Truman West.

  Nothing could stop her. Nothing.

  “It’s over, Furlow,” Katie growled, surprised and pleased with the ferocity in her voice. She wrestled the pistol from Furlow’s hand and leveled it at the woman. “Out of the helicopter. Now!”

  Cursing, Furlow left the duffel bag on the seat and climbed out.

  “On the ground,” Katie commanded.

  Furlow shot her a dirty look. “Not in my Ralph Lauren suit.”

  “Don’t make things worse than they already are.” Katie grasped the woman’s shoulder and pushed her toward the ground. “Get down, hands on the back of your head.”

  Something in her tone must have convinced Furlow she was serious, although Katie didn’t know what she would have done if the con woman had resisted. Grumbling under her breath, Nancy Furlow lay belly down on the roof, her palms placed on the back of her head.

  Now what? Katie thought. It wasn’t as if she were a police officer with the power to arrest her.

  “Katie!”

  Katie turned to see Truman, looking resplendent in his tuxedo, mussed hair and all. A cut marred his cheek. He came toward her, a wriggling, handcuffed Paul Smith in his clutches.

  Relief poured over her in buckets. Her knees banged together, and her chest filled with an overwhelming happiness. He was alive and unharmed.

  “Truman!” Her heart thudded erratically. She almost dropped the pistol and ran to him, but she couldn’t let down her guard with Furlow. Instead, Katie satisfied herself with drinking in the sight of him.

  “Good work, Katie,” Truman complimented her as he and Smith drew closer.

  Katie flushed with pride. “Thanks.”

  “Keep the gun on him while I cuff her,” Truman said.

  Pleased that he would trust her, Katie pointed the pistol at Smith. “Stay put,” she instructed.

  Truman got down on one knee and used a ziptie to bind Furlow’s wrists. “You have the right to remain silent,” he began.

  “You were gonna leave me,” Smith accused Furlow.

  “Well, duh.” Furlow snarled.

  “Hey, you two,” Truman chided. “Play nice.” He finished reading Furlow her rights, then tugged the woman to her feet.

  She glared at everyone.

  “You witch,” Smith retorted. “I would wait for you.”

  “You would. I had the money, and I know how to fly the helicopter. They blew the con for good. Karl’s nabbed. And you were no longer of use to me.” Furlow tossed her head.

  Just then a noise drew their attention to the exit door. Two uniformed officers burst onto the roof.

  “Police,” they announced.

  Katie thrilled to their words, to the adrenaline flowing through her system, to the warm night breeze whipping her party dress around her legs. But most of all, she thrilled to Truman beside her.

  They’d done it!

  Despite the mistakes she’d made and her amnesia. Despite the overpowering sexual attraction that surged between them, they had completed the investigation with an arrest.

  Truman turned Furlow and Smith over to the uniformed officers along with the duffel bag full of money stolen from the victims of the modeling agency scam. He promised he’d return to the station house shortly to complete the paperwork.

  The officers hustled Smith and Furlow away, leaving Katie and Truman alone on the roof.

  He turned to look at her, and a huge grin lit his handsome face.

  Katie stopped breathing. He was looking at her as if she were the most intriguing creature on the planet.

  “Wow,” Katie exclaimed. “That was something.”

  “Police work.” He shrugged.

  “It’s exciting.”

  “At times. It’s also exasperating, frustrating, and occasionally even boring.”

  “But you love it.”

  “You do, too.”

  “Yes,” she admitted. “I do.”

  “Thinking of going to the academy?”

  “First chance I get.”

  “You’ll make a great policewoman.” There was no mistaking the admiration in his voice.

  “Thank you for saying so.”

  “Come here,” Truman said and crooked a finger.

  Katie placed a palm to her chest. “Me?”

  “You see anyone else up here?”

  Shaking her head, she returned his grin. “You sure it’s me you want? Not Tess Dupree?”

  “I’m quite sure it’s you,” he said, stepping closer. “Tess Dupree lives in the pages of a book. I prefer a living, breathing woman.”

  “What are you saying, Truman?” Katie whispered.

  “Can’t you guess?” He stood less than an arm’s length away.

  Her bottom lip trembled. “Are you sure? I mean, what about your job? I thought your career meant more to you than anything.”

  “You’ve taught me a lot, Katie.” His scent surrounded her, beckoned to her.

  “Such as?”

  “Not all women are like my mother and Rhonda.”

  “That’s true.”

  “Some women might even want to join a man in his chosen field. The right woman encourages her fellow to reach for the stars. Just as he does the same thing for her. They don’t hold each other back.”

  “Am I the right woman?”

  “Oh, yes. I only hope I’m the right man. I’ve also learned that love is a two-way street, and if I want to get love, I’ve got to give it. Katie, I’ve been afraid for so long. Terrified of being vulnerable, I used my mother and Rhonda as excuses. I was afraid to care. Afraid I’d lose something precious like I did with my father. Can you understand?”

  “Completely, Truman. I’ve been afraid, too. Afraid of life, afraid of men. That’s why I hid behind my weight. That’s why I buried my nose in books. Rejection scared me.”

  “No,” Truman denied. “You were never afraid of love, Katie. I remember that letter you wrote to me back in high school. The one you never meant for me to see.”

  “You do?”

  “It touched me even then how passionate you were. I was jealous of the way you could let your emotions flow on paper. You weren’t afraid to love. You were just unsure of yourself. And of me. I’m sorry I didn’t see it then. I was young and foolish. I know better now.”

  “We’ve both been very foolish. Think of all that wasted time.”

  “We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

  “Yes.”

  She gulped. Moonlight beamed down, reflecting off the face of the man she had loved for so long. How she had dreamed of this moment—when every cherished hope she’d ever held had come true.

  “Katie,” Truman said, his voice husky. “I’m going to kiss you.”

  Then he swept her into his strong arms, holding her tightly against his broad chest, and consumed her.

  His lips, warm and hungry, found hers. His fingers, soft and gentle, weaved through her hair. His scent, intoxicatingly masculine, tantalized her nostrils.

  At last. At long last.

  Being with Truman surpassed anything she
’d ever imagined. For years, she’d been waiting on the sidelines, wishing and hoping and dreaming. But it had taken a nudge from Tess Dupree to make Katie take charge of her life.

  She’d found everything she’d been looking for.

  “I love you, Katie,” Truman said, breaking their embrace long enough to gaze deeply into her eyes. “As I’ve never loved another. With you, I’m willing to take a chance. To give and take. To share and grow. To commit and compromise. If you’ll have me.”

  “Is this a proposal?”

  “Yes.” He smiled. “I suppose it is.”

  “Then you’d better get down on one knee, because that’s always the way I imagined it.”

  Taking her hand, Truman sank down on one knee. He looked up at her, the stars shining in his eyes. “Katie Prentiss, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  “Why, Truman West,” she replied. “What took you so long?”

  Dear Reader,

  Readers are an author’s life blood and the stories couldn’t happen without you. Thank you so much for reading. If you enjoyed Truman, I would so appreciate a review. You have no idea how much it means.

  If you’d like to keep up with my latest releases, you can sign up for my newsletter @ https://loriwilde.com/sign-up/.

  Please turn the page for an excerpt of the next book in the Texas Rascals series, Brodie.

  To check out my other books, you can visit me on the web @ www.loriwilde.com.

  Excerpt: Brodie

  * * *

  She couldn’t go through with it.

  Deannie Hollis sat on the antique four-poster bed in the south bedroom of the rambling Texas ranch house that until fifteen years ago had belonged to the Hollis family for four generations. She’d even been conceived in this very bedroom.

  Now all she had to do to reclaim her birthright was to walk down the aisle and say “I do” to Brodie Trueblood. It was that simple and that complicated.

  Tears slipped down her cheeks and pooled on the white lace collar of her western-cut wedding gown. A bouquet of white roses and baby’s breath rested in her trembling hands and a salty lump burned her throat.

  Twisting Brodie’s engagement ring on her finger, Deannie shook her head, trying her best to fight the guilt clutching her heart. Her pearl cluster earrings danced below her earlobes and the mesh bridal veil brushing lightly against her shoulders.

  She could not do this. Brodie deserved so much better. Sniffling, she reached for a tissue.

  A knock sounded at the door.

  “C-c-come in.” Deannie hiccupped and smoothed her white satin skirt with one hand.

  Her sister-in-law to be, Emma Trueblood, poked her head in the door. “Preacher’s here. Everyone’s waiting.”

  “Could you give me ten more minutes?”

  “Cold feet?” Emma swished into the room in a lavender whirl and shut the door behind her. She plopped down on the bed beside Deannie.

  “Sort of.”

  “Oh, honey, you know you’re getting the best man in Presidio County.”

  “I know.” That was the problem.

  Emma patted her hand. “It’ll be all right, I promise. If you love Brodie, and he loves you, nothing else matters.”

  But Emma was wrong. Dead wrong. Because Deannie had a dark secret.

  “I know my marriage to Kenny isn’t perfect,” Emma chattered, “but we’re working things out. And believe it or not, after seven years, our life together is better than it’s ever been.”

  Deannie knew. She’d seen Kenny’s transformation first-hand. “I’m glad you guys are happy. You deserve all the happiness in the world.

  “We owe it to you and Brodie. If it weren’t for you two, Kenny and I would still be separated.”

  “Naw, Kenny’s a good man. He would have come to his senses eventually.”

  Emma hugged Deannie. “Come on, woman, don’t let marriage scare you. It really is worth the effort.”

  Marriage didn’t scare her, deceiving Brodie Trueblood did.

  “I need five more minutes alone,” Deannie pleaded. “Please, Emma.”

  “Okay.” Looking puzzled, her matron-of-honor left the room.

  Deannie tried to take a deep breath but anxiety twisted around her throat and a claustrophobic sensation gripped her stomach. She had to get out of here.

  Leave. Flee. Run. Now. Today. This very minute.

  Before it was too late.

  Springing to her feet, she dashed to the window and pushed back the curtain. Brodie’s pickup sat around back, already desecrated by well-wishers. White shoe polish announcing Just Married muddied the windows, and dozens of aluminum cans dangled from the bumper.

  Even if she had access to the keys, cars were parked around the circular driveway, blocking her exit.

  She was stuck, stranded.

  What to do?

  She couldn’t face Brodie, couldn’t call off the wedding while looking him in the face. She was too big a coward for that. Couldn’t bear to see the trust go out of his eyes.

  Strains of the wedding march came from the living room as their neighbor, Bonnie McNally, played the piano.

  In her mind, she saw the gaily decorated living room—vases of roses, white crepe paper streamers, satin doves, silk bows. She knew little Buster was there, clutching a pillow with their wedding rings pinned to it. And so was sweet Angel, dressed in ruffles and lace, carrying a basketful of white rose petals.

  Their friends, dressed in their best finery, gathered in the living room, waiting to witness the union of Brodie Trueblood and Deannie McCellan.

  Only she wasn’t Deannie McCellan as everyone believed.

  Closing her eyes, she saw Brodie standing before the altar, his dark hair combed back off his forehead, his green eyes shining with radiant love. A love that would die the instant he learned the truth about her.

  Deannie moaned and fisted her hands as sorrow writhed through her. Better to leave him at the altar than marry him and live a lie.

  She’d tried to convince herself that love was enough. Self-denial led her this far, but her conscience balked at finishing her mission. She could not do it.

  Peering out the window again, Deannie searched the grounds below, desperate for a solution. She spotted Brodie’s horse, Ranger, saddled in the paddock.

  Yes. That was it. She would take Ranger and clear out. Once she got to Rascal, she’d figure out where to go from there.

  Decision made, Deannie moved aside the sash and raised the window. With both hands she pushed out the screen. Hiking her dress around her waist, she placed a booted foot on the sill. One look at those white boots and her heart lurched in her throat.

  Just two weeks ago she and Brodie had gone to El Paso, where he’d picked out the boots especially for their wedding, saying they were perfect for his cowgirl bride.

  Don’t think about it. Just go.

  She hesitated a moment, calculating the distance to the ground from the second story. Taking a deep breath, she gathered her skirt in her hands.

  “Here goes,” she whispered and jumped.

  Deannie landed feet first and stumbled backward from the impact. Recovering, she ran across the yard toward the paddock, flung open the gate and clicked her tongue at Ranger.

  Obediently, the horse came to her. Pulse thudding, Deannie swung into the saddle.

  The cool September breeze ruffled her hair as she grabbed the reins and aimed Ranger west toward the setting sun. Clouds bunched on the horizon, threatening rain.

  Any minute now Brodie would discover her gone. Any minute the atmosphere would change from festive to gloomy. Any minute Brodie’s heart would be broken, shattered just as surely as her own, their hopes and dreams crushed like rose petals in a hail storm.

  Oh! why had she fallen in love with him?

  Regret, heavy and unshakable, filled her. Blinking back more tears, Deannie galloped across the prairie. Her veil streaming out behind her, her train whipping against the saddle. Her hands, encased in soft white gloves
, clutched the reins in a death grip.

  Her mind jettisoned back to that fateful day four months ago. The day she returned to Rascal, Texas, hell-bent on revenge.

  About the Author

  Lori Wilde is the New York Times, USA Today and Publishers’ Weekly bestselling author of 88 works of romantic fiction. She’s a three time Romance Writers’ of America RITA finalist and has four times been nominated for Romantic Times Readers’ Choice Award. She has won numerous other awards as well.

  Her books have been translated into 26 languages, with more than four million copies of her books sold worldwide.

  Her breakout novel, The First Love Cookie Club, has been optioned for a TV movie.

  Lori is a registered nurse with a BSN from Texas Christian University. She holds a certificate in forensics, and is also a certified yoga instructor.

  A fifth generation Texan, Lori lives with her husband, Bill, in the Cutting Horse Capital of the World; where they run Epiphany Orchards, a writing/creativity retreat for the care and enrichment of the artistic soul.

  Acknowledgments

  Cover art by: Lyndsay Lewellen @ https://lyndseylewellen.wordpress.com

  Editorial by: Kimberly Dawn @ https://editingbykimberlyd.wixsite.com/home

  Proofreading by http://judiciousrevisionsllc.weebly.com

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  Did you love Truman? Then you should read Kael by Lori Wilde!

  Sweet Temptations

  With his arrogant, devil-may-care attitude, professional bull rider, Kael Carmody, was for women what honey was to bees--a sweet necessity. But he was after only one woman, the one he hurt years ago. Kael wanted to win Daisy back, but he had to melt her defenses, like honeycombs in the sun.