Just a Little White Lie(3)

She debated. Did she slide into a parking space and eat? Or one-hand it while she hit the road again?

Anger won the day. She wanted to put as many miles and palm trees as possible between herself, two-timing Donald and her manipulative father.

Half an hour later, as she crossed into Georgia, her car bucked. She frowned. It bucked again.

“Don’t you dare.” Her gaze skittered to the gas gauge. Half a tank. She slapped her hand on the steering wheel. “You will not give me any lip, understand? I’ve reached my limit for these twenty-four hours.”

As if sticking its tongue out at her, the engine coughed, burped and died.

“No! No, no, no!” Depressing the clutch, Lucinda coasted to the side of the road.

A semi whizzed by and set the little sports car rocking. A whopping big diesel truck hauling an even bigger trailer shot past.

Folding her arms on the steering wheel, she fought tears of frustration. Here she was, dressed in a Vera Wang wedding gown, with a car that wouldn’t run and an almost-groom who obviously loved the idea of a promotion—and his ex—more than he loved her. If he’d ever loved her at all.

Didn’t she have all the luck?

Well, thank God for cell phones. She rummaged in her bag, pulled hers out, and saw a black screen. Her stomach sank to her toes. The battery was dead. She’d planned to plug it in at church and give it a charge during the ceremony.

But then she’d planned to get married too, hadn’t she?

She hadn’t done either.

No wedding band. No phone.

She was sorrier about the phone.





Chapter Two




Shoot! He was gonna have to get married.

Jake Parker crossed over into Georgia, and his stress level immediately shot through the roof. The months in Bay Saint Louis, Mississippi, had done him good. Georgia had seemed a world away.

But now it was time to go home. Time to face reality again.

Although he preferred small, winding back roads, he headed his Harley toward Valdosta and the interstate. In the entire year he’d been away, his dad had never called. So when Jake answered the phone to find him on the other end, his heart had plummeted, and he’d been certain something horrid had happened. He’d been right. Grandma Hattie was sick. Very sick.

She was making her condition worse fretting about him, his dad said in a curt, clipped voice.

“You need to get home,” he told him. “Your grandmother wants to see you married and settled before she dies. She wants great-grandbabies to carry on the family name. Wants to know you have someone to share your life with.”

Blast his dad’s black heart. Jake wanted to make Grandma Hattie happy, he did. But this… If it was just his father, Jake would have told him to get lost. He had no intention of getting married. But for Grandma Hattie? He’d never been able to tell her no, to refuse her anything. He loved her.

So here he was. Headed home. No fiancée, no plan. He was winging it, praying that somewhere between here and Pride he’d come up with something. Something that didn’t involve the wedding march and a ball and chain.

His insides twisted. He was so not ready to get hitched.

But Wanda Sue Baker sure was. The minute he hit town, she’d be all over him like flies on a sweaty horse. She’d set her cap for him in high school and never let up.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe he and Wanda Sue could make a go of it. He grimaced. Who the hell was he kidding? He accelerated, and the Harley shot past a rusted-out pickup. The road opened in front of him, and he reveled in the freedom, putting distance between himself and the other traffic.

What in the— He hit the brakes, and his bike skidded on the pavement.

Christmas had come early this year.

Up ahead on the side of the road, an incredible redhead in a wedding gown kicked the tires of a fancy little red sports car. Somebody wasn’t going to get to the church on time.

He pulled up behind the sports car. Florida tags. Hmmm. This bride seemed to have lost her way. Well, maybe he could help.

Straddling the big machine, he unsnapped his helmet and drank in the picture in front of him. From a distance she’d been a pretty little bride in trouble. Up close, she fit into the category of every man’s dream.

If you wanted to get married.

He didn’t.

Still, if you were going to take that plunge, she’d be one heck of a hill to ride.

She turned incredible amber eyes on him, and he was lost. The lady was armed and dangerous.

She took a step back and laid a slender hand over her door handle.

“Seems you’ve got a problem.” He nodded toward the car. “Thought maybe I could be of some service.”

Her eyes traveled over him, taking his measure, he supposed. A woman alone on the road. He could appreciate her caution.