Justice Burning (Hellfire #2)(7)

Sweet Jesus!

In the wedding dress, she was a tiny fairy princess enveloped in clouds of poofy cotton candy. In the jeans, light green sweater, and a pair of gently scuffed, brown cowboy boots she was the girl next door, only better and somehow more real. She’d pulled the remaining pins and her long auburn hair fell around her shoulders in wild waves.

When she turned her gaze to meet his, Nash’s breath caught and held.

Alarm bells rang out in his head. Warning! Warning! Had he listened, he’d have run the other way. Peg would have seen that Phoebe got a ride to Lola’s apartment or the women’s shelter. Nash had no obligation to stick around and see her to her next destination.

His feet wouldn’t budge from the floor. He couldn’t breathe, much less move when she gazed at him with those eyes the soft green of spring hay.

Peg held out a bag bulging with other items of clothing and another with several pairs of shoes. When Phoebe extended the twenty-five dollars, Peg lifted her hand and shook her head. “Take them. Pay it forward when you get on your feet.”

“Thank you so very much,” Phoebe said. “I’ll pay you back as soon as I can.”

“What do you want me to do with the wedding dress?” Peg asked, tilting her head toward the dressing room.

“Keep it, sell it, or burn it. I have no use for the thing.”

“Consider it payment for the items you’re taking with you.” Peg smiled. “I’m sure it more than covers them. And you look wonderful and ready to take on life on your own terms.”

Phoebe hugged Peg and turned to Nash, her eyes swimming with unshed tears. “I’m ready.” She squared her shoulders, even as her bottom lip trembled. She sucked it between her teeth and lifted her chin.

He swallowed past the tightening in his throat and resisted the urge to gather Phoebe in his arms, to protect her from the world and feel this whole new woman, free of the wedding dress, pressed against his body. But resist, he did. To hold her now would start a landslide of something he was sure would bury him completely. One thing was certain, he wouldn’t emerge unscathed. Outside the thrift shop, he held the SUV door for Phoebe.

She slid in, drawing in her slim legs like a celebrity, or someone used to riding in the back seat of a limousine.

Nash blinked. That thought tugged at his memory. With her hair down and that ridiculous dress gone, she appeared somewhat familiar. He’d seen that face before, but he couldn’t put his finger on where. “Should I know you?”

Her eyes widened, and she turned away. “I don’t see how. We just met today.”

His gaze narrowed, as if by squinting he could pinpoint that memory of where he’d seen her before. For a long moment, he stared at her profile. Finally, he shook his head. “Guess I’m mistaken.”

“Yes,” she said, her voice breathy. “Perhaps so.”

He shut the door, rounded the vehicle to the driver’s side and climbed in. He glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “Were you at the last rodeo in Fort Worth?”

Phoebe shook her head and stared out the window, fingering the locket at her throat. “No.”

“Where are you from?” he asked, surprised he hadn’t asked before. What kind of deputy was he, anyway?

“Does it matter?” She continued to stare out the window, allowing a long strand of hair to swing forward and block her eyes from his view. “I’m sure you have better things to do than chauffeur me around. Likely Lola will be waiting for my return.”

A non-answer. Nash’s eyes narrowed. He supposed she wasn’t in a hurry to let her folks know where she’d run to, nor did she want a well-meaning sheriff’s deputy to notify her family of her whereabouts.

Nash shifted into reverse, backing out of the parking lot. Two minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot of Lola’s shoe store.

Lola hurried out, locked the door behind her and held up a key. “I have the key to the apartment.”

“Good.” Just a few more minutes and he could wash his hands of the runaway bride. Nash tipped his cowboy hat at the older woman. He turned in the driver’s seat, and tilted his head toward the rear of the vehicle where Phoebe sat. “Do you want to ride in the back, or take your own vehicle?”

“Any other time, I’d die for a chance to ride in the backseat of your squad car.” She winked at Nash. “I have to get back fairly quickly. I’m expecting a delivery at any time. But I’ll take a rain check if you promise to use the handcuffs.”

Nash shook his head. “Lola, you know I can’t play with the cuffs. They’re for real police business.”

Lola pouted. “I could pretend to be a lady of the evening, and you could arrest me for soliciting.” She plumped her ample breasts, the girls nearly spilling out of her tight sweater and the bra that could barely contain them. “I’ll even let you frisk me.”

Nash tried not to smile and thus encourage the woman’s naughty behavior. “As tempting as that sounds, I have to decline. Besides, I thought you liked fire fighters better.”

“Oh, I do. They are so very…hot.” She fanned her cheek with her hand. “But lawmen are a close second.”

Phoebe’s gaze shot from Lola to Nash and back during the entire exchange.

Nash sighed. The bride would wonder what she was getting into with Hellfire’s infamous Lola. The middle-aged woman loved to flirt. Since her husband passed away and left her with a comfortable insurance stipend, she enjoyed playing the field and hitting on all the single young men and some of the older men in town. Sometimes she was annoying, but mostly she was harmless. Just lonely.

Nash drove the few short blocks, parked in front of Lola’s house, got out and opened the door for Phoebe.

Phoebe climbed out, and stared at the pretty charcoal-gray craftsman-style cottage with a detached garage set back at the end of a long driveway.

Lola zoomed up the street in a bright orange Corvette, skidding to a stop in the driveway. She jumped out and held out a key. “What do you think of the place?”

“I love your house,” Phoebe said.

“I kind of like it too.” Lola smiled. “Come on. You might not like the apartment as much. I haven’t been in it since Christmas. I’m not sure how big a mess it is.”

“I can handle it,” Phoebe said, determined to make it work. With no other option presenting itself and no money to live on, she had to take what she could get.

“If you want to work for me as a housekeeper, I could use help once a week. The shop keeps me pretty busy.”

Nash cleared his throat. “If you are comfortable with Miss Lola, I’m off duty and need to check in at the station.”

Phoebe drew her bottom lip between her teeth and stared up into his eyes. “Thank you so much for all you’ve done. I hope I can repay your kindness some day.”

He tipped his cowboy hat, suddenly reluctant to leave her, but he didn’t have a reason to stay. “Not necessary. It’s part of my job.” Nodding to Lola, he gave her a brief smile. “Let me know if you two need anything. You know how to get a hold of me.”

With that, he turned and hurried away. Yes, he wanted to stay and make sure Phoebe was settled into the garage apartment, but she wasn’t his responsibility and the more he was around her, the more he wanted to stay with her. Not good. Not good at all.

He wasn’t in the market for a girlfriend and though she said she wasn’t going back to where she came from, there wasn’t much in Hellfire to keep her here. He was better off walking away.

Almost to the SUV, he reached for the door handle when footsteps crunched on the gravel and a soft voice stopped him.

“Deputy Grayson?”

He turned to stare down into those soft green eyes, his pulse ratcheting up. “Yes, Miss Smith?”

“Thank you.” She touched his arm. “And no matter what happens, I promise I’m not a bad person.” She flung her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. Then she turned and ran back to where Lola stood, a grin stretching the older woman’s dark lipstick-covered mouth.

Warmth rushed through Nash and tingling spread from where Phoebe’s lips had touched his cheek. He raised a hand to the spot and stared at the woman, a frown pulling his brows downward.

He hadn’t begun the day with the intent of finding a runaway bride stranded on the side of the road. Scenarios like that were only found in those unrealistic romance novels women liked reading. No. He hadn’t asked for a kiss. But now that she’d done it, she couldn’t undo it, and he couldn’t unfeel it.

Nash gave a curt nod, turned and fought to keep from leaping into his SUV, though he knew running away wouldn’t get him away from the haunting look of the pretty redhead with the eyes the color of the soft green moss.

In the few short hours he’d known Phoebe Smith, she’d crawled beneath his defenses.

Damn.

So distracted by the kiss he couldn’t think straight, Nash pulled out of Lola’s drive without looking and almost backed into a black four-door sedan that had slowed on the street in front of Lola’s house. When Nash finally glanced in the rearview mirror, he slammed his foot on the brake, stopping the big SUV mere inches from the sedan.

The driver must have been shaken by the near-miss, because he goosed his accelerator and peeled off a layer of his tires on the hot Texas pavement, screaming away from Nash’s vehicle.