There Goes the Bride

She sent a tentative smile their way, and they responded in turn. Phew. At least these people weren’t angry about this wedding-day stunt she’d pulled.

She gathered her composure. “I guess I’m a runaway bride.”

Ashlyn Reno broke into an appreciative grin, while everyone else plopped into the nearest chair. She asked, “Wasn’t this supposed to be the wedding of the century?”

Daisy heard Rick’s chuckle, and she darted an irritated glance over her shoulder at him. He was giving her one of those appreciative high-school glances, and she couldn’t help the flutter of attraction that flew over her heart.

Ridiculous, she thought. The last time Rick Shane saw you, you were thirty pounds leaner. He can’t possibly think you’re anything but an overweight bride stuffed into a satin casing.

When she intensified her stare, he merely held up his hands, warding off her rancor.

She faced the others again. “I can’t marry him. I don’t know what else to say.”

Rick’s voice floated from the corner. “Maybe you could give us a reason?”

Everyone else’s faces reflected his curiosity. And why shouldn’t they?

She said, “I haven’t even told my own sister why I’m not marrying Peter.”

Meg Cassidy, the one who’d baked her wedding cake, took the children outside as the other women nodded in sympathy, encouraging Daisy to continue.

“Well, to make a long story short, my sister, Coral, gave up everything to keep us together as a family after my parents died. She was so young when she started raising me, and we struggled financially for a long time. I was a teenager when Peter befriended Coral. He loaned her a lot of money, especially when she got it into her head that I could be Miss America and we couldn’t find adequate sponsors. It was expensive, but Peter helped us out.”

Here, Daisy could feel her blush intensifying, her tears returning to well up in her throat, choking her. She couldn’t tell them about failing as a beauty queen.

Couldn’t tell them about gaining so much weight that she would’ve been a laughingstock if she’d set a foot onstage. She’d lost the pounds, but never regained the confidence. Then she’d put on more padding, then shed it. Up and down, a roller coaster of diets.

Rachel Shane stepped forward. “Tarkin can’t force you to marry him, Daisy. The man treats you like a trophy.”

Rachel’s blunt statement robbed Daisy of breath, of dignity, especially knowing that Rick had heard it. She didn’t want to look at him, to see the loser image in the reflection of his dark eyes.

Daisy rested her gaze on the tiled floor. “It’s complicated. I have a duty to my sister. She gave up a lot for me, and Peter wants a wife more than our money, I suppose.”

No, she knew it was true; she just didn’t want to admit too much in front of these strangers. Peter enjoyed the prestige of owning a former Miss Spencer County. He liked that she knew how to behave in front of guests, liked her ability to charm his company. She was a valuable business asset to an ambitious man. On more than one occasion, he’d referred to her as “a piece of art.” In spite of the imagery, she wasn’t sure if it was a compliment to be compared to a lifeless painting decorating his walls.

Rachel came behind the counter to place an arm around Daisy’s shoulders. She met her gaze. “I believe you. However, Tarkin’s not going to be happy about his intended wife leaving him at the altar.”

“He’s earned it with his infidelity.” She took a deep breath, then exhaled. “But I’m afraid of what he’ll do if we don’t get married.”

Rick’s boots thumped as he stepped forward. His low voice brushed down her back. “What do you mean by that?”

A lump formed in her throat. She couldn’t believe she’d been reduced to asking for help from people she barely knew. “He threatened me when I tried to call this whole thing off. Said I’d regret it if I did. And…” This was mortifying. “…I didn’t think it would ever come to this, but he tried to hurt me before the wedding.”

The moment slammed back to her. Peering in the church dressing room’s mirror. Crying. Tugging the tiara from her head in an explosive second of rebellion. Feeling Peter’s hand around her neck before she’d ruined her perfect hairdo.

Knowing that he’d been watching the entire time, lingering in the back of the room.

Daisy shivered, then stared at the floor again.

She peeked up when she heard the men rise to their feet. Sheriff Reno stepped forward. “He won’t touch you, Ms. Cox. Believe me.”

Daisy heard Rick take a step or two toward her as well.

The petite woman in the ripped sweatshirt—it might have been Rick’s sister—spoke up. “He can’t get away with this. Daisy, what can we do for you?”

Relief welled over her. Coral would never believe that Peter had threatened Daisy; her sister thought the man was close to a saint for saving them with the loan. And she truly believed that Peter loved Daisy, not her status.

“I haven’t actually planned this through,” she said.

What could she do? Going back to Coral right now was out of the question. Daisy had no other relatives to turn to; that’s the reason Coral had cared for her when their parents had died.

Wait. Maybe there was something she could do. A couple of years ago, when she’d visited St. Louis, a man named Harry Redd had offered her a high-class hostessing job at his prestigious corporate headquarters. She’d had bigger accomplishments in mind, maybe attending college to become more than a beauty queen, for instance. Her dreams had never materialized though, and she’d gained too much weight to even think of approaching Mr. Redd again. But if she could get in touch with him, promise to get in shape, secure a new life in a new city and send money to Coral to pay off Peter, Daisy might be able to live with herself.

She perked up. She could also contact a past-pageant friend who lived in the city, maybe even live with her until she could make her own way. Yes. This could certainly work.

“I want to go to St. Louis,” she said.

She heard Rick’s disbelieving chuckle. “St. Louis,” he said.

Rachel asked, “Why there?”

Before Daisy could answer, the sheriff’s wife popped out of her seat. “I have an idea!”

“Oh, no, Ashlyn,” said her husband.

But she wasn’t listening. “Rick’s our resident pilot. He can fly you there, and fast.”

Any optimism Daisy felt at this news was quickly squelched by the near growl from behind her.

“I don’t think so,” Rick said, causing Daisy to finally turn around to face him.

What she saw made her heart sink.

Chapter Two

R ick knew he looked like a piece of the devil’s handiwork as he stepped into the light.

“You’re insane if you think this is going to work.”

Daisy’s tiara wobbled to the side of her head as her gaze glued itself to the floor again. Her well-manicured fingers caught the delicate crown, righting it.

A protective urge flared to life inside Rick, but he tamped down the emotion. He’d never been very good at saving people. Didn’t his family and friends know that?

But his friend Ashlyn Reno, a.k.a. former town troublemaker, was just getting started. Her husband, the sheriff, of all things, merely sat back in his chair, evidently willing to wait out this new storm of inspiration.

“Here’s the thing,” Ashlyn said, her eyes wide with daring. “The quicker Daisy can get out of here, the quicker she can get away from that old dried-up fiancé of hers.”

“Ashlyn.” Rachel half laughed as she chided her friend.

“I’m sorry, the truth must be told,” she continued. “It’s not a pretty sight when an arrogant old fool salivates over a woman half his age. In fact, that’s downright disgusting.”

Her husband cocked an eyebrow. “So you’re willing to create a major Kane’s Crossing scandal because you object to Peter Tarkin’s drool?”

Ashlyn nodded, sending a saucy smile to the sheriff.

“That’s my girl,” he said, winking at her.

Rick cleared his throat. “As I was saying—”

By this time, Rachel had caught Ashlyn’s hell-raiser bug. She smoothed a strand of light brown hair from her forehead. “I’m warming up to this. Peter Tarkin has had a reckoning on the horizon for a while.”

Now it was her husband’s turn to protest. Matthew said, “So the man disapproved when you ran our horse farm while I was away, and he’s a bit of a misogynist, begging your pardon, Ms. Cox.”

Daisy crossed her arms over her chest, as if warding off the truth. The whole town had gossiped about Tarkin’s cavalier treatment of her ever since the engagement. Rick, busy hiding in his little cabin on the edge of Siggy Woods, busy trying to distance himself from life in general, hadn’t paid the news credence. He hadn’t really cared until Daisy had swept into the bakery today.

Not that he cared now, either.

As Matthew opened his mouth to continue, Rick tried to distance himself even more, especially since it was his big brother flapping his gums. The brother who couldn’t even admit to hoarding their dead father’s pride and attention. Not that Rick was bitter about it.

He cut across Matthew’s words. “I think Daisy knows more about this town’s history than you do,” he said, referring to Matthew’s recent bout with amnesia. Not more than two months ago, Matthew had returned home to Rachel and their daughter, claiming a loss of memory. He’d finally regained his senses, but he and Rick hadn’t ever ironed out what had happened between them so long ago. On graduation day. Before Rick’s time in the hot desert sun.

Something painful crossed Matthew’s brown eyes and, for a second, Rick thought he actually might be able to communicate with his brother, thought that they could, someday, sit down and talk about the tension between them.

But Matthew drew his mouth into a straight line, ignoring Rick. “As I was saying, Rache, do you really think flying Daisy away is going to solve the problem?”

Rick flowed back into the dark corner, his pride stinging. Vintage Matthew, the favored son. He’d slapped down younger brother once again. And Rick had deserved it.

Lacey, the stepsister who could take control of a situation even in a torn sweatshirt that had gone out of style two decades ago, slapped her palm on the counter. “I don’t hear any other ideas.”

Daisy held up a finger. “If I may say something?”

The room’s occupants blinked their eyes at Daisy, as if they’d all forgotten the reason for their rambling. Funny, but Rick had been aware of her the whole time. Aware of her light scent, her gleaming curls, her smooth skin.

Snap out of it, he told himself.

Daisy straightened her spine, tilted up her chin. “I believe St. Louis will do just fine. I even have a job prospect.”

Lacey gave her a thumbs-up sign. “So if Rick can manage to fly me and the local businessmen to our meetings every couple of days, maybe he can stop being so stubborn about it and volunteer to help around here.”

What was he, a mercy chauffeur? “Wait a minute. My Cessna’s due for its service.” Okay, so maybe he was stretching the truth a bit. His Cessna, his baby, was just fine. But all the same, “I can’t just up and fly out of Kane’s Crossing at the drop of a cowboy hat.”

He shot a glance at Matthew’s headgear, propped on his brother’s knee. When his gaze traveled higher, their eyes met, clashing.

“That’s okay,” said Daisy. “I’ll just take a commercial flight.”

Shame suffused Rick’s skin, marking him with stubborn rage. Why couldn’t he just offer to help? Why couldn’t he step away from his inner hermit—the one who liked to hide in that cabin by the woods—and be a savior?

Because he’d tried that before, and the results had been irreversible. Soul crushing.

Nick Cassidy finally spoke up from a corner booth, where he’d been watching Main Street from the window. “A commercial flight will make it easy for Peter Tarkin to track you down, Daisy.”

Rachel spoke up. “But let’s be fair here. We’re asking Rick to put his life on hold while Daisy gets established in St. Louis. He wouldn’t just drop her off and leave.”

She glanced at him as if asking, “Right?” It smarted that his sister-in-law was even wondering.

Nick stood, his boots scuffing across the floor as he walked toward Daisy. “Here,” he said, slipping a wad of money into her hand. “Whatever you do, this should keep you for a while.”

Daisy shook her head. “I can’t possibly—” Then she stopped, probably remembering that she wasn’t carrying a purse. Besides, she couldn’t go home now, not for money, clothes or apologies.

“No worries,” said Nick. He looked at Rick.

Dammit. He’d always admired Nick Cassidy, especially with the way the man had cleaned up corruption in Kane’s Crossing while empowering the citizens of the town. Having his friend watch him like this was almost as bad as having a big brother glaring at his wayward sibling.

Funny. He could almost bear that sort of attitude from Nick, but never from Matthew.

As Daisy stared at the money, biting her lower lip, Nick reached in his pocket again.

“No,” said Rick, holding both palms outward, as if warding off an approaching enemy. “I won’t need your money.”

Damn. He’d just committed himself. He knew it by the way the women were smiling at him, by the way Nick and Sam were regarding him with a gleam of respect in their gazes. By the way his brother was nodding his head.

Rick averted his glance before Matthew could affect him.

Lacey swaggered over to hug him. “Rick’s got that bulging trust fund from our parents, remember? Money isn’t what makes him ornery.”

No, life had made him that way. From their deceased parents, Matthew had inherited the horse farm and the Louisville business until he’d disappeared from Kane’s Crossing. With Rick’s blessing, Lacey, the stepchild, had taken over the business. Rick had only been bequeathed money—something that hadn’t required brains or trust.

Subtly, so no one could see, he squeezed Lacey’s arm and disengaged himself from her embrace. Then he walked toward Daisy. She watched him wide-eyed, just like she had in high school. Rick’s stomach tightened, clenching with an unidentifiable hunger.

He hovered over her until she narrowed her eyes at him. Good, he thought. Don’t depend on me.

“I’m not baby-sitting you,” he said, knowing at the same time that he’d never be able to live with himself if he just plopped her in St. Louis and left her to fend for herself. Like it or not, his nature wouldn’t allow him to abandon her, to take the chance that Tarkin would catch up to his runaway bride and make good on his threats to make her pay.

“I don’t expect any special attention,” she said.

Well, she damned sure had it. Rick took a step closer, grinning when she sucked in a quick breath. He allowed his gaze to linger at the level of her blue eyes, to saunter down to her ample cleavage.

“Excuse me,” she said. “I’m up here.”

Their audience stirred and started small-talking amongst themselves. Rick chuckled as he took his time making eye contact with Daisy.

“Since I’m not about to spend the rest of my life following you around,” he said, “let’s set a time limit for your St. Louis settling.”

“Sounds reasonable. How about two weeks?”

He chuffed. “Do you think I’ve got nothing better to do? One.”

“One and a half.”

He wasn’t going to win this round, and Rick Shane had a pretty good idea when to cut his losses. He’d spent his life practicing the art of fading into the background. “Not a day more,” he said.

He backed away from Daisy and addressed Nick. “Might as well get this over with.”

Nick nodded, and Daisy went to him, hugging him tightly. He accepted the gesture, fixing his thumbs in his belt loops as she stepped away.

“I’ll repay you, Mr. Cassidy,” she said.

Nick fought a grin. “It’s an almost-wedding gift.”

“Come on,” said Rick, sensing the room temperature turning mushy.

As he moved through the baking room and out the back door, he heard Lacey promising Daisy that she’d bring her clothes and other essentials before takeoff.

He had to leave, before the women caught up to him, making a fuss about how he was so angelic and sweet for helping a damsel in distress. That was the last thing he needed, especially since he was a reluctant participant in the first place.

He opened the passenger door of his Jeep, removing the dog-eared flight manuals and greasy rags that littered the seat. Then he propped his body against the driver’s side, lighting up a good cigar while he waited for the emotional farewell inside the bakery to play itself out. Damn, his friends and relatives loved a good drama.

He peered around, blowing out a plume of smoke. Kane’s Crossing was Sunday silent, the backyards lining the rear of the bakery still and pious. The Jeep’s passenger door was nearest to the bakery, so smuggling Daisy out would be that much easier.

His heart was actually pounding, dammit. Just as it had years ago, when he’d had much more dangerous things to worry about. A bead of sweat fixed itself to his upper lip and, with a lack of patience, Rick swept it away with the butt of his cigar.

Rachel and Matthew escorted Daisy out the back door, her veil and satin covered by a blanket. They helped her into the vehicle, instructing her to get on the floor so no one would see her. After shutting her inside, they turned to Rick.

Rachel kissed him on the cheek, and Rick tried not to flinch. Instead, he glanced away, tossing his cigar to the ground and driving it into the dirt with a boot heel. He didn’t even bother acknowledging Matthew as he swept around the Jeep’s hood and hopped inside the cab.

Once he’d started the engine and turned onto the road, he flicked on the radio, only to find a preacher blaring a sermon out of the speakers. He grinned, turning it a little louder, checking to see if the bundle of blanket, satin and Daisy would protest.

But the only response he got was the bounce of a golden ringlet as it worked its way from the coarse army-green blanket.

In a burst of mental gunfire, memory blinded him.

He saw another cowering female, desert sand burying itself in her hair like jewels in a crown.

Just as quickly, he shook himself back to the present, ignoring the throbbing pulse in his neck. His breath shortened, and he fought to regulate it.

But he couldn’t steady his hands.

As he gripped the sweat-dampened steering wheel, he aimed toward home, toward a little cabin in the woods where, once, he’d been able to hide from the rest of the world.

Daisy wanted to ask Rick to turn off that darned radio.

No. She wouldn’t push her luck. She’d been fortunate to find a way out of this wedding disaster, and she wasn’t about to blow it by testing Rick Shane’s temper.

Let him listen to fire and brimstone. Let him smile his cocky smile and try to get a rise out of her.

Daisy Cox was flying toward freedom, toward St. Louis, and nothing was going to stop her.

Under the blanket, she could pretend she was safe. Not like when she’d been a young girl, huddled under her comforter when Coral had told her that Mommy and Daddy were never coming home again. No, this time she was going to be reborn, emerging from this dark place with a new purpose, a new identity.

No more Daisy Cox, has-been beauty queen.

The Jeep shuddered to a halt, and she heard Rick’s door open, then shut.

Seconds passed. Was that jerk leaving her here?

She knew he hadn’t wanted to fly her anywhere. In fact, from the way Rick had protested his involvement in her escape, it was obvious that he’d just as soon strangle her for disrupting his life.

She felt guilty about it, too. Boy, did she ever. She didn’t enjoy grinding weddings to a halt, inconveniencing her sister for the rest of her life or dragging a man away from his beloved existence in Kane’s Crossing. But if she’d had any other choice, she would have taken it.

Finally, her door swished open. “Are you that relaxed?” asked Rick.

She peeked out of the blanket’s dark comfort, squinting as sunlight and Rick’s irritation poured over her. “A gentleman would help me out.”

“I am helping you out.” He walked a couple of steps away, then paused. Shaking his head, Rick returned, holding out a hand.

She peered down her nose at it, then made her way out of the Jeep. She could feel her breasts working themselves out of her bodice, but that’s what you got when you power ate before a big wedding. The seamstress had almost slapped Daisy silly when she’d shown up for her final fitting, ten pounds heavier than the last time.

And it wasn’t as if she’d been a twiggy creature during the first fitting, either.

When she finally managed to get to her feet without Rick’s help, she grinned at him. He stared right back, his face emotionless.

“Your crown is crooked,” he said, then turned away to walk toward his cabin.

As she adjusted her veil and followed him, she couldn’t help widening her smile. Freedom. Rick had it, with this cabin nestled on the fringes of a woodland copse. Pine trees guarded the solemn cabin with its knotholes decorating a cozy porch. All Rick Shane needed to be Davy Crockett was a coonskin cap and buckskins hugging his long legs.

Daisy sighed. She wasn’t about to think teenaged-girl thoughts about Rick again. That was then, this was now. And now was a whole lot more stressful.

He opened the unlocked front door and gestured for her to come in. She almost refused, just to be contrary. Just to see him grin at her like he used to in high school.

But she didn’t know if he’d respond the same way now. As a matter of fact, she wouldn’t be surprised if Rick hated her guts for roping him into her mess of a life.

As she stepped inside, the smell of pine washed over her senses. It was a man’s abode, all right, with patterned Indian blankets strewn over a spindly-legged couch, with woven mats serving as rugs and with a pillow-tossed, unmade bed resting in the corner. A T-shirt slouched over a chair back, trailing a pair of well-worn jeans that had found pooled sanctuary on the hardwood floor. It looked as if he’d stepped out of the clothing on the way to bed.

She could almost imagine him without a stitch of material covering his body, could almost imagine shadows playing over his hard chest while a rumpled sheet hid everything below. What if she slid that phantom sheet lower and lower…?

Stop right there, she told herself.

When she glanced at him, his brow was cocked, obviously aware that she was aware of the discarded clothes.

As if the sight of them was enough to unnerve her. All her life, she’d been paraded in front of judges, cheering parents, back-stabbing Miss So-and-so’s. Did he think she was so easily flustered?

Daisy pasted on her best panel-winning smile. “I want to take this opportunity to thank you for your help, Rick.”

Hmmm. She shouldn’t have said his name. It seemed far too intimate in light of the tossed-away jeans.

He must have possessed nerves radar, because just as soon as she thought “Hmmm,” he started moving toward her, shadowing her with his long body.

“Don’t thank me now. We’ve got a ways to go, darlin’.”

Daisy swallowed, coating her suddenly dry throat with indifference. “Well, it needed to be said.”

Well? The word was a time buyer, a dead giveaway to a loss of composure.

He took a step closer, bringing with him the slight scent of tobacco. Closer, close enough so she could see the outline of his Adam’s apple against a corded throat.

Close enough so his low voice rained through her with a liquid vibration. “You actually think this hare-brained plan is going to work?”

He reached out, grasping her blanket with both hands, the heat from his fingers making the skin of her throat tingle.

“It’s got to work.” Oh, she sounded scared, desperate.

Nervous.