There Goes the Bride

“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.