“Deputy Grayson, where’d you find this pretty little thing?” Big, bald curmudgeon Joe Baumgartner grinned across the counter at Phoebe, holding the ring in his chubby fingers.
Nash couldn’t recall a time when Joe smiled, much less grinned. “On the highway. What can you do for her?”
The Joe Nash knew wiped the smile from his face, pulled out a jeweler’s loupe and stared down at the ring. “I don’t know that I can do much. I’m no expert, but this ain’t no diamond. I think it’s a cubic zirconia. I’d have to send it to my cousin in Dallas to be sure.”
Phoebe’s brows dipped. “Cubic zirconia? You’re kidding, right?” She focused those pretty green eyes on the old man, tears pooling to make them even greener. “Is it worth anything?”
Joe shrugged. “Might be worth twenty-five bucks for the gold.”
Nash watched as Phoebe seemed to shrink into her dress, her eyes rounding like a puppy in the animal shelter.
“Is that all?”
The shop owner nodded.
She fingered the locket at her throat. “What about this locket?”
The pawn shop owner shook his head, reached beneath the cabinet, pulled out a tray full of antique lockets and laid it on the counter. “Can’t sell the ones I have.”
Phoebe’s crushed look hit Nash in the gut. Damn. “Is that all you can do, Joe?”
Joe tipped his head, staring at the ring in Phoebe’s hand. “Twenty-five is really more than I think I can sell it for.” He raised his hands, palms upward. “Take it, or leave it.”
“I’ll take it,” Phoebe said, her voice barely above a whisper.
The pawn shop owner counted out the bills and handed them to Phoebe. “Sorry I couldn’t give you more.”
She handed him the ring. “You did the best you could. Thank you.” Phoebe turned away, her bare feet tripping over the train she’d let fall to the floor.
Nash dove forward, caught her and lifted her in his arms.
Old Joe rounded the counter and helped pile her dress on top of her. “Good luck, missy. Hope that jerk who stiffed you gets what he deserves.”
Phoebe shot a wide-eyed glance at Joe and stuttered, “Th-thank you.” She wadded the bills in her hand and turned to Nash. “Ready?”
He nodded. As he carried her through the door, her scent wafted beneath his nose. Nash nearly groaned out loud. He had to get her situated soon.
She leaned down and opened the back door of the SUV.
Nash settled her onto the seat and helped her gather as much of the dress as he could, shoving the folds into the vehicle. Finally, he was able to shut the door, figuring he had maybe five more minutes before Rider arrived with her car in tow. If he could wrap this up quickly, he could have her off his hands sooner rather than later.
Feeling like a chauffeur to the rich, he drove the SUV to the only shoe store in town. Sighing, he got out, opened the back door and waited while she got out, the ridiculous dress swelling around her. If anything, it appeared to be getting bigger.
She tiptoed into the store and crossed to the nearest display of sensible shoes.
Lola, the shoe storeowner, hurried from the back toward Phoebe like a hawk swooping in to claim its prey. When she spotted Nash, she stopped in her tracks, her eyes widening, her dark red lips curling into a smile. “Nash, honey, what can I help you with?” She altered her direction from Phoebe to Nash.
Nash ground his back teeth together.
Though nice enough, Lola had made it clear she had her heart set on Chance, Nash’s older brother. Never mind Lola was easily twenty years older than Chance. Her behavior was a constant source of pain for Chance, and he’d told her on more than one occasion he wasn’t interested. Unfortunately, Lola refused to take no for an answer.
Lola touched Nash’s arm. “Where’s that brother of yours?”
“I imagine he’s sleeping. He worked last night.”
“Mmm.” Lola ran her fingers down his chest, tapping the buttons one at a time. “You Grayson men are all so…so…delicious. And men in uniform are so very hard to resist.” Her hand dropped lower, catching on his belt buckle.
Easing back an inch, he captured her hand before she could get her claws into him. “Lola, could you please help Miss Smith find a pair of shoes? She seems to have left the church without hers.”
Lola blinked and turned toward the only other person in the store. “Oh, a customer. How nice of you to bring her to me.” She batted her eyelashes up at Nash. “I’m available tonight, if you’d like to show me your…badge.”
“Not interested, Lola.” He turned her toward Phoebe. “Please, help Miss Smith.”
Lola pouted, but pasted a smile on her face. “What can I get you, sweetie?”
Phoebe, her cheeks a rosy shade of pink, pointed at a pair of serviceable boat shoes. “I just need something to wear.”
“Oh, honey, those won’t go with the dress.” Lola plucked a pair of rhinestone-studded stilettos from a display shelf. “How about these?”
“I’m not interested in high heels. I need something I can work in. I need to find a job as soon as possible.”
“Oh, dear heart, you can work in any shoes I sell here. It all depends on what kind of work you’re interested in.”
Phoebe’s brows furrowed.
Nash stepped forward. “Lola, she just needs to be able to walk.” He lifted a tennis shoe from a display shelf. “What can she get for twenty-five dollars?”
Lola blinked. “Nash, you know I can’t discount my inventory that much. I have to pay the rent.”
“You don’t have anything for under twenty-five?” Nash’s hopes of being home in time for dinner were quickly fizzling.
“The only shoes I sell for that price are children’s sizes.” She glanced at Phoebe’s feet and tipped her head. “Your feet are small, but I don’t think they’re quite that small.”
Phoebe held out the bills. “I only have twenty-five dollars. I need shoes and something to wear besides this dress, so that I can find a job and a place to stay.”
“An admirable goal.” Lola tapped a finger to her chin. “There’s a thrift store behind the fire station. If you don’t mind secondhand clothing, you can make that twenty-five go a lot farther than one pair of my cheapest shoes. And the proceeds from the sales go toward the women’s shelter.”
Nash shook his head. “I forgot about the thrift store.”
“I know how it feels to get out of a bad relationship. At least you got smart before you said I do.”
Phoebe gave her a shaky smile.
Lola touched her arm. “Sweetie, I have an apartment over my garage, if you’re interested.”
Phoebe’s face brightened. “I am.” Just as quickly, the light faded. “But I don’t have any money.”
Lola wrapped an arm around her. “I can waive the first month’s rent if you’re willing to clean it yourself. I’ve been using it as a place to store Christmas decorations for the shop.”
“Thank you.” The young bride nodded. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”
“Good.” Lola backed up a step. “Go find some shoes and clothes. I’ll have a key for you when you get back.”
Nash wasn’t so sure he was happy Lola had offered the woman a place to stay. If he had his way, he would have bundled Phoebe onto a bus headed back the way she came. Now it appeared she was staying in town a little longer.
“Come on. We need to get to the thrift shop before they close.” Nash grabbed Phoebe’s hand. At the contact with her hand, an electric charge raced up his arm. He told himself it was nothing. This woman was a stranger. An almost bride, who’d almost married another man, and probably wasn’t staying in Hellfire any longer than it took to figure out the town was too small for her. Most young people moved on, finding the town too cramped and the community too nosey.
Yeah, she’d be gone before the week was out.
No worries, right?
That warm rush of sensations coursing through his veins was in reaction to the hot Texas sun, not the hot little bride holding his hand.
Keep telling yourself that, Nash. Keeping telling yourself. Doing so wouldn’t make it true.
3
As Phoebe eased past Deputy Grayson, she caught a whiff of his cologne. No…not really cologne, but the fresh scent of soap, the outdoors and one hundred percent male. No other man she’d been around made her heart skip several beats and then rush into a pounding frenzy.
She was embarrassed, overwrought and afraid of going to jail. At least that was her excuse for the way her breath caught and her pulse pounded whenever the deputy put his hands on her.
In a hurry to move past him, she wasn’t paying much attention to the ground at her feet—not that she could see it below the yards of taffeta and tulle. Why had she picked this dress? She missed the step down from the curb, stumbled and felt a sharp stabbing pain in her big toe. “Ouch!” Phoebe’s knees buckled. She would have fallen except for the big hand that grabbed her elbow and held her up.
“Are you okay?” Grayson bent over her, his brows knit.
She shook her head and pulled the skirt of her dress away from her foot. Deep red blood dripped onto the bright white of the wedding gown still draped across the ground. “I must have stepped on glass or something.”