A woman in a white flowing dress caught Cash’s attention. She rushed along the side of the church. Abruptly she stopped and bent over some shrubs. What in the world was the bride doing? Looking for something?

This was certainly the most entertainment he’d had in the past half-hour. He shook his head and smiled at the strange behavior. When she started running down the walk toward his vehicle he tipped his hat upward to get a better view.

The bride spun around. Her fearful gaze met his. Her pale face made her intense green eyes stand out bright with fear. Alarm tightened his chest. Was there more going on here than a change of mind?

She glanced over the hood of his truck. He followed her line of vision, spotting a group of photographers rounding the corner of the church. In the next second she’d opened his passenger door and vaulted inside.

What in the world was she doing? Planning to steal his truck?

He swung open the driver’s side door and climbed in.

“What are you doing in here?”

The fluffy material of her dress hit him in the face as she turned in the seat and slammed her door shut.

“Drive. Fast.”

About the Author

In another life, JENNIFER FAYE was a statistician. She still has a love for numbers, formulas and spreadsheets, but when she was presented with the opportunity to follow her lifelong passion and spend her days writing and pursuing her dream of becoming a Mills & boon® author, she couldn’t pass it up. These days, when she’s not writing, Jennifer enjoys reading, fine needlework, quilting, tweeting and cheering on the Pittsburgh Penguins. She lives in Pennsylvania with her amazingly patient husband, two remarkably talented daughters and their two very spoiled fur babies otherwise known as cats—but shh…don’t tell them they’re not human!

Jennifer loves to hear from readers—you can contact her via her website: www.jenniferfaye.com.

This is Jennifer Faye’s fabulous first book for Mills & boon!

Rancher to the Rescue
Jennifer Faye

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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To my real-life hero, Eric,

who is the most positive, encouraging person

I’ve ever known. Thanks for cheering me on

to reach for the stars. You’re my rock.

And to Bliss and Ashley.

You both amaze and impress me every day.

Thank you for filling my life with so much sunshine.

I’d also like to send a big thanks to my wonderful

editor, Carly Byrne, for believing in my abilities and

showing me the way to make my first book a reality.

CHAPTER ONE

WHY DO PEOPLE insist on pledging themselves to each other? Love was fleeting at best—if it existed at all.

Cash Sullivan crossed his arms as he lounged back against the front fender of his silver pickup. He pulled his tan Stetson low, blocking out the brilliant New Mexico sun. From the no-parking zone he glanced at the adobestyle church, where all of the guests were gathered, but he refused to budge.

His grandmother had insisted he bring her, but there was no way he’d sit by and listen to a bunch of empty promises. Besides, he’d met the groom a few times over the years and found the guy to be nothing more than a bunch of hot air. Cash would rather spend his time wrestling the most contrary steer than have to make small talk with that blowhard.

He loosened his bolo tie and unbuttoned the collar of his white button-up shirt. Gram had insisted he dress up to escort her in and out of the church—even if he wasn’t planning to stay.

What he wouldn’t give to be back at the ranch in his old, comfy jeans, instead of these new black ones that were as stiff as a fence rail. Heck, even mucking out stalls sounded like a luxury compared to standing here with nothing to do.

A woman in a white flowing dress caught his attention. She was rushing along the side of the church. Abruptly she stopped and bent over some shrubs. What in the world was the bride doing? Looking for something?

This was certainly the most entertainment he’d had in the past half hour. He shook his head and smiled at the strange behavior. When she started running down the walk toward his vehicle, he tipped his hat upward to get a better view.

A mass of unruly red curls was piled atop her head while yards of white material fluttered behind her like the tail of a kite. Her face was heart-shaped, with lush lips. Not bad. Not bad at all.

Her breasts threatened to spill out of the dress, which hugged her waist and flared out over her full hips. She was no skinny-minny, but the curves looked good on her. Real good.

He let out a low whistle. She sure was a looker. How in the world had boring Harold bagged her?

He couldn’t tear his gaze from her as she stopped right next to his pickup and tried to open the tan SUV in the neighboring parking spot. Unable to gain access, she smacked her hand on the window. Obviously this lady had a case of cold feet—as in ice cold—and hadn’t planned an escape route. At least she’d come to her senses before making the worst decision of her life.

The bride spun around. Her fearful gaze met his. Her pale face made her intense green eyes stand out bright with fear. Alarm tightened his chest. Was there more going on here than a change of mind?

She glanced over the hood of his truck. He followed her line of vision, spotting a group of photographers rounding the corner of the church. In the next second she’d opened his passenger door and vaulted inside.

What in the world was she doing? Planning to steal his truck? He swung open the driver’s side door and climbed in.

“What are you doing in here?”

The fluffy material of her veil hit him in the face as she turned in the seat and slammed the door shut. “Drive. Fast.”

He smashed down the material from her veil, not caring if he wrinkled it. He’d never laid eyes on this woman before today, and he wasn’t about to drive her anywhere until he got some answers. “Why?”

“I don’t have time to explain. Unless you want to be front and center in tomorrow’s paper, you’ll drive.”

His gaze swung around to the photographers. They hadn’t noticed her yet, but that didn’t ease his discomfort. “You didn’t kill anyone, did you?”

“Of course not.” She sighed. “Do you honestly think I’d be in this getup if I was going to murder someone?”

“I’m not into any Bonnie and Clyde scenario.”

“That’s good to know. Now that we have that straightened out, can you put the pedal to the metal and get us out of here before they find me?”

He grabbed the bride’s arm and yanked her down out of sight, just before the group of reporters turned their curious gazes to his pickup. Luckily his truck sat high up off the ground, so no one could see much unless they were standing right next to it.

“What are you doing?” she protested, struggling.

“Those reporters don’t know you’re in here, and I don’t want to be named in your tabloid drama. Stay down and don’t get up until I tell you to.”

His jaw tensed as he stuffed the white fluff beneath the dash. He was caught up in this mess whether he wanted to be or not.

Her struggles ceased. He fired up the truck and threw it in Reverse. Mustering some restraint, he eased down on the accelerator. Damn. He didn’t want to be the driver for this bride’s getaway, but what choice did he have?

He knew all about reporters—they were like a pack of starving wolves, just waiting for a juicy story. For their purposes he’d be “the other man.” Scandals always made good sales—it didn’t matter if you were an innocent bystander or not. In the court of public opinion, when your face hit the front page you were crucified. He should know.

Cash pulled his cowboy hat low, hoping no one would recognize him. He didn’t want to draw the attention of the reporters who were searching behind rocks, shrubs and cars. There would be no quick getaway. Slow and steady.

When the bride once again attempted to sit up, he placed his hand on the back of her head.

“Hey, you!” a young reporter, standing a few yards away, shouted through the open window.

Cash’s chest tightened as he pulled to a stop. “Yeah?”

“Did you see which way the bride ran?”

“She ran around back. Think there was a car waiting for her.”

The reporter waved and took off. Cash eased off the brake and rolled toward the exit. He hadn’t had a rush of adrenaline like this since his last showdown with a determined steer.

“What’d you say that for? You’re making things worse,” the bride protested, starting to sit up.

He pressed the side of her face back down. “Stay down or I’ll dump you in this parking lot and let those hungry reporters have you.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.” He was in no mood to play around with some woman who didn’t know what she wanted.

Now he needed to get rid of this bundle of frills so his life could return to its peaceful routine.

Before he could ask where she wanted to be dropped off she started to wiggle, bumping the steering wheel.

“Watch it.” He steadied the wheel with both hands. “What are you doing down there?”

“Trying to get comfortable, but I think it’s impossible. Are we away from the church yet?”

“Just approaching the parking lot exit, but don’t get any ideas of sitting up until we’re out of town. I’m not about to have people tracking me down and bothering me with a bunch of questions I can’t answer.”

“Thanks for being so sympathetic,” she muttered.

He slowed down at the exit, checking for traffic before merging. “Hey, I didn’t ask you to hijack my truck.”

“I didn’t have any other choice.”

“Get cold feet?”

“No…yes. It’s complicated.” She squirmed some more. “I don’t feel so good. Can I sit up yet?”

“No.”

The rush of air through the open windows picked up the spicy, citrusy scent of the colorful bouquet she was still clutching. A part of him felt bad for her. He’d heard about how women got excited about their wedding day and, though he personally couldn’t relate, he knew what it was to have a special moment ruined, like getting penalized after a winning rodeo ride.

He checked the rearview mirror. No one had followed him out of the parking lot. He let out a deep breath. So far, so good.

He tightened his fingers around the steering wheel, resisting the urge to run a soothing hand over her back. “Where am I taking you?”

“I…I don’t know. I can’t go back to my apartment. They’ll be sure to find me.”

“You’re on the run?” He should have figured this was more than just a case of cold feet. “And what was up with the reporters?”

“My boss thought the wedding would be a good source of free publicity for my television show.”

“You certainly will get publicity. Runaway Bride Disappears Without a Trace.”

She groaned. Her hand pressed against his leg. The heat of her touch radiated through the denim. A lot of time had passed since a woman had touched him—back before his accident.

He cleared his throat. “I suppose at this point we should introduce ourselves. I’m Cash Sullivan.”

He waited, wondering if there would be a moment of recognition. After all, he hadn’t retired from the rodeo circuit all that long ago.

“Meghan Finnegan.” When he didn’t say anything, she continued, “I’m the Jiffy Cook on TV, and the reason those men are armed with cameras is to see this hometown girl marry a millionaire.”

Nothing in her voice or mannerisms gave the slightest hint that she’d recognized his name. Cash assured himself it was for the best. His name wasn’t always associated with the prestige of his rodeo wins—sometimes it was connected with things he’d rather forget. Still, he couldn’t ignore the deflating prick of disappointment.

“I don’t watch television,” he said, gruffer than intended. “Okay, we’re out of Lomas and this road doesn’t have much traffic.”

When she didn’t say anything, he glanced over. Her complexion had gone ghostly pale, making her pink glossy lips stand out. “You feeling okay?”

“No.” Her hand pressed to her stomach. “Pull over. Now.”

He threw on his right-turn signal and pulled to a stop in a barren stretch of desert. Meg barreled out of the vehicle, leaving the door ajar. She rushed over to a large rock and hunched over. So this was what she’d been doing when she ran out of the church. Must be a huge case of nerves.

He grabbed some napkins from his glove compartment and a bottle of unopened water. It was tepid, but it’d be better than nothing. He exited the truck and followed her. He wasn’t good with women—especially not ones who were upset and sick.

“Um…I can hold this for you.” He reached for the lengthy veil.

He didn’t know if he should try talking to her to calm her down or attempt to rub her back. He didn’t want to make things worse. Unsure what to do, he stood there quietly until her stomach settled. Then he handed over the meager supplies.

“You okay now?” he asked, just before his cell phone buzzed.

His grandmother. How could he have forgotten about her? This bride had a way of messing with his mind to the point of forgetting his priorities.

He flipped open his phone, but before he could utter a word Gram said, “Where are you? Everyone’s leaving.”

“I went for a little ride. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Hurry. You won’t believe what happened. I’ll tell you when you get here.”

He hated the thought of going back and facing those reporters. Hopefully there’d be too much confusion with the missing bride and the exiting guests that they wouldn’t remember he’d been the only one around when Meg had disappeared.

He cast a concerned look at his pale stowaway. “We have to go back.”

Fear flashed in her eyes and she started shaking her head. “No. I can’t. I won’t.”

“Why? Because you changed your mind about the wedding? I’m sure people will understand.”

She shook her head. “No, they won’t.”

He didn’t have time to make her see reason. “I have to go back to the church. My grandmother is waiting. I can’t abandon her.”

Meg’s brow creased as she worried her bottom lip. “Then I’ll wait here.”

“What?” She couldn’t be thinking clearly. “I can’t leave you here. You’re not well.”

“I won’t go back there. I can’t face all of those people…especially my mother. And when the press spots us together they’ll have a field day.”

“You can hide on the floor again.”

She shook her head. “We were lucky to get away with that once. With all of the guests leaving, the chances of me staying hidden are slim to none.”

She had a good point, but it still didn’t sit right with him. “Leaving you here in the middle of nowhere, in this heat, isn’t a good idea.”

“This isn’t the middle of nowhere. I’m within walking distance of town. I’ll be fine. Just go. Your grandmother is waiting. There’s just one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Leave me your cell phone.”

He supposed it was the best solution, but he didn’t like it. Not one bit. But the chance of discovery was too great. Not seeing any other alternative, he pulled the phone from his belt and handed it over.

“You’re sure about this?” he asked, hoping she’d change her mind.

She nodded.

“Then scoot around to the other side of that rock. No one will see you there—unless that veil thing starts flapping in the wind like a big flag.”

“It won’t.” She wound the lengthy material around her arm. A look of concern filled her eyes. “You will come back, won’t you?”

He didn’t want to. He didn’t want anything to do with this mess. All he wanted was to go home and get on with his life. But he couldn’t leave her sick and stranded.

“I’ll be back as fast as I can.”

Meghan Finnegan watched as the tailgate of the cowboy’s pickup faded into the distance. The events of the day rushed up and stampeded her, knocking the air from her lungs. How could Harold have waited until she’d walked up the aisle to tell her he’d suddenly changed his mind?

He didn’t want her.

And he wanted her to get rid of their unborn baby—a baby they’d agreed to keep secret until after the ceremony. Meghan wrapped her arms around her midsection. She loved her baby and she’d do whatever was necessary to care for it.

She sagged against the rock before her knees gave out. Sure, she knew Harold hadn’t wanted children—he’d made that clear from the start. And with her rising television career she’d accepted that children wouldn’t fit into her hectic lifestyle. But this was different—it had been an accident. When she’d told Harold about the pregnancy a few weeks ago he’d been stunned at first but then he’d seemed to accept it. What in the world had changed his mind?

The sound of an approaching vehicle—perhaps departing wedding guests—sent her scurrying behind the outcrop of large rocks. She wasn’t ready to face the inquiring questions, the pitying stares or the speculative guesses. At twenty-eight, she’d prided herself on having her life all planned out. Now she was pregnant and she didn’t have a clue what her next move should be.

She sank down on a small rock and yanked out scads of hairpins in order to release the veil. At last free of the yards of tulle, she ran her fingers through her hair, letting it flow over her shoulders.

She glanced down at the black phone in her lap. She should probably call her family, so they didn’t worry, but there was no way she was going to deal with her mother, who would demand answers. After all, her mother had been instrumental in planning this whole affair—from setting up her initial date with the boy-next-door who’d grown up to make a fortune in the computer software business to making the wedding plans. In fact the preparations were what had finally pulled her mother out of her depression after cancer had robbed them of Meghan’s father less than a year ago.

Not that all of the blame could be laid at her mother’s feet. Meghan had been willing to go along with the plans—anxious to put her father’s mind at ease about her future before he passed on. And, eager at last to gain her mother’s hard-won approval, she’d convinced herself Harold was the man for her.

Then, as the “big day” approached the doubts had started to settle in. At first she’d thought they were just the usual bridal jitters. But Harold had started to change—to be less charming and thoughtful. It had been as though she was really seeing him for the first time. But her options had vanished as soon as the pregnancy strip displayed two little pink lines.

Meghan’s hand moved to her barely-there baby bump. “It’s okay, little one. Mommy will fix things. I just need some time to think.”

First she had to call her family. She carefully considered whom to contact. Her middle sister Ella? Or her little sis Katie? At the moment they weren’t all that close. Since their father’s death the family had splintered. She’d hoped the wedding would bring them all together again, but nothing she’d tried had worked.

Never having been very close with her youngest sister, she dialed Ella’s number. The cell phone rang for a long time. Meghan had blocked Cash’s number and now she worried that her sister might think it was a prank call or, worse, a telemarketer and not answer. Maybe that was for the best. She could leave a message and have no questions to field.

“Hello?” chimed Ella’s hesitant voice.

“Ella, it’s me. Meghan.”

“Meghan—”

“Shh…don’t let anyone know you’re talking to me. I’m not ready to deal with Mother.”

“Wait a sec.” The buzz of people talking in the background grew faint, followed by the thud of a door closing. “Okay. I’m alone. What happened? Why’d you run off? Where—?”

“Slow down.”

Her first instinct was to tell Ella she was stranded on the side of the road. In the past they’d shared all sorts of girly secrets—right up until Ella’s engagement had ended abruptly seven months ago. Her sister hadn’t been the same since then. Now, it wouldn’t be right to burden her sister with her problems—not when Ella still had her own to figure out.

Meghan heard herself saying, “Don’t worry. I’m fine. I’m with a friend.”

“But why did you run out on the wedding? I thought you wanted to marry Harold? He acted so broken up and shocked when you took off.”

“What?” Her mouth gaped as her fingers clenched the phone tighter to her ear.

“Harold barely held it together when he told the family that he didn’t have a clue why you ran out on him.”

“He knew…”

That low-down, sniveling, two-faced creep. Her blood boiled in her veins. How could he turn the tables on her when he was the one who’d done the jilting?

He was worried about his image. It always came back to what would look best for him and his company. Why should he take any of the blame for the ruined wedding when she wasn’t there to defend herself?

“Meghan, what did he know? Are you still there?”

“He lied,” she said, trying to remain calm so she didn’t say something she’d regret later. But she couldn’t let her sister believe Harold’s lies. “He knew exactly why I left.”

“It’s okay,” Ella said as sympathy oozed in her voice. “I understand you got cold feet. Remember I was there not that long ago—”

“I didn’t get cold feet. There are things you don’t know.”

“Then tell me.”

“I can’t yet. This is different from when you called off your engagement. And it seems to me you’ve been spending all of your time hiding in your bakery.”

“This isn’t about me.” Ella sighed. “Harold hinted that the stress of planning such a large wedding might have driven you over the edge.”

“But that’s not what happened.” Why hadn’t she seen this side of Harold a long time ago? Had it been there all along? She’d thought he was honorable and with time he would accept the baby.

“It doesn’t matter. Just come home. The whole family is worried. Mother is beside herself. She says she’ll never be able to step outside again because she’s too embarrassed.”

“And what do you expect me to do?” she asked, tired of being the oldest and the one expected to deal with their mother. “Nothing I say will make her less embarrassed.”

In fact it’d only make it that much worse when her straitlaced mother, a pillar of the community, found out her unwed daughter was pregnant by the boy-next-door—the same guy who’d dumped her and their baby at the altar.

“But, Meghan, you have to—”

“No, I don’t. Not this time. You and Katie are going to have to deal with her. I need some space to figure things out. Until I do, I won’t be of any help to anyone.”

Ella huffed. “So when are you coming home?”

She wanted to go to her apartment and hide away, but she wouldn’t have any peace there. And there was no way she was going to her mother’s house.

“I don’t know. I have two weeks planned for the honeymoon so don’t expect to see me before then. I’m sorry, Ella. I’ve got to go.”

There was nothing left to say—or more like nothing she was willing to say at this point. She knew Ella was worried and frustrated, but her sister was smart and had a good head on her shoulders. She’d figure out how to manage their mother.

As Meghan disconnected the call her concern over her family was replaced by nagging doubts about the cowboy returning for her. She glanced down at the new-looking phone with a photo of a horse on the display. Surely he wouldn’t toss aside his phone with his photos and numbers inside?

He’d be back…

But then again she’d put her faith in Harold and look where that had gotten her. Pregnant and alone. Her hand moved to spread across her abdomen. She’d barely come to terms with the fact there was a baby growing inside her, relying on her. And she’d already made such a blunder of things.

CHAPTER TWO

CASH ARRIVED AT the church in time to witness the groom taking his moment in the spotlight, blaming everything on Meg in order to gain the public’s sympathy.

The nerve of the man amazed Cash. Meg was distraught to the point of being physically ill, and here was Harold posing for pictures. His bride might have walked out on him, but Harold sure didn’t look like the injured party. A niggling feeling told him there was more to this story than the bride getting cold feet.

Ten minutes passed before he pried Gram away from consoling the groom’s family and ushered her to his pickup. At last they hit the road. Gram insisted on regaling him with the tale of how the bride ran out of the church without explanation and all the wild speculations. Cash let her talk. All too soon she would learn the facts for herself.

When he reached the two-lane highway he had only one mission—to tramp the accelerator and get back to the sickly bride. By now she must think he’d forgotten her.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

“Cash, slow down,” Gram protested. “I don’t know what you’re in such an all-fired-up rush for. There’s nothing at the Tumbling Weed that can’t wait.”

“It’s not the ranch I’m worried about.”

He could feel his grandmother’s pointed gaze. “You aren’t in some kind of trouble again, are you?”

He sighed, hating how his past clung to him tighter than wet denim. “Not like you’re thinking.”

He glanced down at the speedometer, finding he was well beyond the limit. He eased his boot up on the accelerator. As his speed decreased his anxiety rose. It was bad enough having to leave Meg alone, but when she didn’t feel well it had to be awful for her.

At last he flipped on his turn signal and pulled off the road.

“What are we stopping for? Is there something wrong with the truck? I told you we should have gassed up before leaving town.”

“The truck’s fine.”

“Then why are we stopping in the middle of nowhere? Cash, have you lost your mind?”

“Wait here.” He jumped out of the truck and rushed over to the rock.

Meg wasn’t there. His chest clenched. What had happened to her? He hadn’t seen any sign of her walking back to town. Had someone picked her up? The thought made him uneasy.

“Meg!” He turned in a circle. “Meg, where are you?” At last he spotted her, on the other side of the road. She gathered up her dirty dress and rushed across the road. “What in the world were you doing?”

“I thought if any passing vehicles had taken notice of you dropping a bride off on the side of the road, it might be wiser if I moved to another location.”

It seemed as though her nerves had settled and left her making reasonable decisions. “Good thinking. Sorry it took me a bit to get back here. Picking up my grandmother took me longer than I anticipated—”

“Cash, who are you talking to?” Gram hollered from inside the truck.

“Don’t worry,” he said, “that’s my grandmother. Your number-one fan.”

“Really? She watches my show?”

“Don’t sound so surprised. From what Gram says, you’ve gained quite a loyal following.”

“I suppose I have. That’s why the network’s considering taking the show national.”

So she was a rising television star. Maybe Harold hadn’t been up for sharing the spotlight? Cash liked the idea of Meg being more successful and popular than a man who played up the part of an injured party to gain public sympathy.

“Cash, do you hear me?” Gram yelled, her voice growing irritated.

“We’d better not keep her waiting,” he said. “If she gets it in her mind to climb out of that truck without assistance I’m afraid she’ll get hurt.”

Meg walked beside him. “Your truck could use a stepladder to get into.”

“When I bought it my intent was to haul a horse trailer, not to have beautiful women using it as a taxi service.”

He noticed how splotches of pink bloomed in her cheeks. He found he enjoyed making her blush. Obviously Harold, the stuffed shirt, hadn’t bothered to lather her with compliments. No wonder she’d left him.

“Before I forget, here’s your phone.” She placed it in his outstretched hand. “I hope you don’t mind but I called my family.”

“No problem.” He knew if she were his sister or daughter he’d be worried. Turning his attention to his grandmother, he said, “Meg, this is my grandmother—Martha Sullivan. Gram, this is—”

“The Jiffy Cook,” Gram interjected. Her thin lips pursed together. Behind her wire-rimmed glasses her gaze darted between him and Meg. “You stole the bride. Cash, how could you?”

His own grandmother believed he was the reason the bride had run away from the church. The fact it had even crossed her mind hurt. He’d have thought Gram of all people would think better of him and not believe all those scandalous stories in the press.

Before he could refute the accusation Meg spoke up. “Your grandson has been a total gentleman. When he saw me run out of the church with the press on my trail he helped me get away without any incidents. I’m sorry if it inconvenienced you, Mrs. Sullivan.”

Gram waved away her concern. “It’s you I’m concerned about. Has this thing with my grandson been going on for long?”

Any color in Meg’s cheeks leached away, leaving her pasty white beneath the light splattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. “I…ah…we aren’t—”

“Gram, we aren’t together. In fact until she ran out of the church I’d never seen Meg before. She needed a lift and I was there. End of story. No one else knows where she is.”

“My goodness, what happened? Why did you run away?” Gram pressed a bony hand to her lips, halting the stream of questions. Seconds later, she lowered her hand to her lap. “Sorry, dear. I didn’t mean to be so dang nosy. Climb in here and we can give you a ride back to town.”

Seeing alarm in Meg’s eyes, Cash spoke up, “We can’t do that, Gram.”

“Well, for heaven’s sake, why not? She obviously needs to get out of that filthy gown. And we sure aren’t going to leave her here on the side of the road.”

“I can’t go home,” Meg spoke up. “Not yet.”

“But what about Harold?” Gram asked. “Shouldn’t you let him know where you are? He looked so worried.”

Meg’s face grew ashen as she pressed her hand to her stomach. She turned to Cash, her eyes wide with anguish. she pushed past him and ran off.

“Meg—wait.” He dogged her footsteps to a rock in the distance.

When she bent at her waist he grabbed at the white material of her dress, pulling it back for her. He’d hoped the nausea had passed, but one mention of the wedding and she was sick again.

Was she overtaken by regret about leaving old what’s-his-name at the altar? Had her conscience kicked in and it was so distressing that it made her ill?

He considered telling her what he’d witnessed when he’d gone back for Gram, but what purpose would it serve? Obviously the thought of the wrecked wedding was enough to make her sick. Knowing the man she must still love had turned on her wasn’t likely to help.

When she straightened, her eyes were red and her face was still ashen. She swayed and he put a steadying arm around her waist. He had no doubt the hot sun was only making things worse.

“I’m fine,” she protested in a weak voice. “There’s nothing left in my stomach. Just dry heaves.”

He didn’t release his hold on her until he had her situated in the pickup next to his grandmother. “Gram, can you turn up the air-conditioning and aim the vents on her?”

Without a word Gram adjusted the dials while he helped Meg latch her seatbelt. Once she was secure, he shut the door and rushed over to the driver’s side.

He shifted into Drive, but kept his foot on the brake. “Where can we take you, Meg?”

When she didn’t answer, he glanced over to find her head propped against the window. She stared off into the distance, looking as if she’d lost her best friend and didn’t know where to turn. In that instant he was transported back in time almost twenty years ago, a little boy who needed a helping hand. If it hadn’t been for Gram…

“We’ll take you back to the Tumbling Weed,” he said, surprising even himself with the decision.

“Where?” Meg’s weary voice floated over to him, reassuring him that he’d made the right decision.

“It’s Cash’s ranch,” Gram chimed in. “The perfect place for you to catch your breath.”

“I don’t know.” She worried her bottom lip. “You don’t even know me. I wouldn’t want to be an imposition.”

“With there just being Cash and me living there, we could use the company. Isn’t that right, Cash?”

“You live there too?” Meg looked directly at his grandmother.

Gram nodded. “So, what do you say?”

Cash wasn’t as thrilled about their guest as his grandmother. Meg might be beautiful, and she might have charmed his grandmother, but she was trouble. The press wasn’t going to let up until they found her. He could already envision the headlines: Runaway Bride Stolen by Thieving Cowboy. His gut twisted into a painful knot.

“You’re invited as long as you keep your location a secret,” he said, his voice unbending. “I can’t afford to have the press swooping in.”

“Oh, no,” Meg said, pulling herself upright with some effort. “I’d never bring them to your place. I don’t want to see any of them.”

Honesty dripped from her words, and a quick glance in her direction showed him her somber expression. But what if she started to feel better and decided she needed to fix her reputation? Or, worse, made a public appeal to what’s-his-name to win him back?

Then again, she wouldn’t be there that long. In fact it was still early in the day. Not quite lunchtime. If she rested, perhaps she’d be up to going home this evening.

Certain she’d soon be on her way, he said, “Good. Now that we understand each other, let’s get moving.”

The cold air from the vents of Cash’s new-smelling pickup breathed a sense of renewed energy into Meghan. She was exhausted and dirty, but thankfully her stomach had settled. She gazed out the window as they headed southeast. She’d never ventured in this direction, but she enjoyed the vastness of the barren land, where it felt as if she could lose herself and her problems.

Instinctively she moved her hand to her stomach. There wasn’t time for kicking back and losing herself. This wasn’t a vacation or a spa weekend. This was a chance to get her head screwed on straight, to figure out how to repair the damage to her life and prepare to be a single mother.

The thought of her impending motherhood filled her with anxiety. What she didn’t know about being a good parent could fill up an entire library. The only thing she did know was that she didn’t want to be like her own mother—emotionally distant and habitually withholding her approval. Instead, Meghan planned to lavish her baby with love.

But what if she failed to express her love? What if she fell back on the way she’d been raised?

“Here we are,” Cash announced, breaking into her troubled thoughts.

The truck had stopped in front of a little whitewashed house with a covered porch and two matching rocking chairs. the place was cute, but awfully small. Certainly not big enough for her to keep out of everyone’s way.

Cash cut the engine and rounded the front of the truck. He swung open the door she’d only moments ago been leaning against. She released her seat restraint as Cash held out his hands to help her down. As the length of her dress hampered her movements she accepted his offer. His long, lean fingers wrapped around her waist. Holding her securely, he lowered her to the ground in one steady movement.

She tilted her chin upward and for the first time noticed his towering height. Even with her heels on he stood a good six inches taller than her own five-foot-six stature. His smoky gray eyes held her captive with their intensity.

She swallowed. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” His lips lifted in a small smile, sending her tummy aflutter.

Before she could think of anything to say he turned to his grandmother and helped her out of the vehicle. Martha rushed up the walk, appearing not to need any assistance getting around. Meghan could only hope to be so spry when she got on in years.

Martha, as though remembering them, stopped on the porch. “See you at five o’clock for dinner.”

She’d turned for the door when Cash said, “Wait, Gram. You’re forgetting Meg.”

“Not at all. She’s invited too.” She reached for the doorknob.

“But, Gram, aren’t you going to invite her in?”

Martha turned and gave him a puzzled look. “Sure, she’s welcome. But I thought she’d want to get cleaned up and changed into something fresh.”

“Wouldn’t she need to go inside?”

Martha’s brows rose. “Um…Cash…you’re going to have to take her to the big house.”

“But I thought—”

“Remember after you built the house we converted your old room into my sewing room? She could sleep on the couch, but I think she’d be much more comfortable in one of your guestrooms.”

This wasn’t what Meghan had imagined. She’d thought they’d all be staying in one house together. The thought of staying alone with Cash sent up warning signals.

“I don’t want to be a burden on either of you. If you could let me use your phone, I can call and get a ride.”

Cash shot her a puzzled look. “I thought you didn’t have any other place to hide from the press?”

“I don’t.” She licked her dry lips. Softly she added, “I’ll just have to tell them…”

“What? What will you tell them?”

Panic paralyzed the muscles in her chest. “I don’t know.”

“Why did you run out on your wedding?” His unblinking gaze held hers, searching for answers.

“I…ah…”

“Why did you abandon the groom at the altar? Do you want him back?”

She glared at Cash. “I’m not ready to talk about it. Why are you being so mean?”

“Because that is just a small taste of what’s waiting for you. In fact, this is probably mild compared to the questions they’ll lob at you.”

“What would a cowboy know about the press?” she sputtered, not wanting to admit he was right.

“Trust Cash,” Martha piped up. “He knows what he’s talking about—”

“Gram, drop it. Meg obviously doesn’t want to hear our thoughts.”

Meghan turned her gaze to Cash, waiting for him to finish his grandmother’s cryptic comment. She’d already had her fiancé dupe her into believing he was going to marry her—that he cared about her. But if he had he wouldn’t have uttered those words at the altar. Everything she’d thought about their relationship was a lie. And she wouldn’t stand for one more man lying to her.

“What aren’t you saying?” she demanded. “What do you know about the press?”

His jaw tensed and a muscle twitched in his cheek. His hands came to rest on his sides as his weight shifted from one foot to the other.

“I’ll let you two talk,” Martha said. “I’ve got some things to do.”

The front door to the little house swished open, followed by a soft thud as it closed. All the while Meghan’s gaze never left Cash. What in the world had made her think coming here was a good idea?

“I’m waiting.” The August sun beat down on her in the layers of tulle and satin, leaving it clinging to her skin. Perspiration trickled down her spine. She longed to rub away the irritating sensation, but instead she stood her ground. She wouldn’t budge until this stubborn cowboy told her what his cryptic comments meant.

Cash sighed. “I overheard your fiancé talking to the press and it sounded like you’ll have a lot of explaining to do.”

He’d turned the conversation around on her without bothering to explain his grandmother’s comment. But Meghan didn’t have time to point this out. She was reeling from the knowledge that Harold had not only gone to her family and blamed her for the wrecked wedding, but he’d also gone to the press with his pack of lies too. The revelation hit her like a sucker punch.

“Why would he do that?” she muttered. Her public persona was her livelihood. Was he trying to wreck her career?

“Maybe if you talked to him you could straighten things out.”

She shook her head. At last she was seeing past Harold’s smooth talk and fancy airs to the self-centered man beneath the designer suits. “He doesn’t want to hear what I have to say. Not after what happened.”

Cash’s gaze was filled with questions, but she wasn’t up for answering them. Right about now she would gladly give her diamond ring just to have a shower and a glass of ice-cold water.

“Could we get out of the sun?” she asked.

Cash’s brows rose, as though he’d realized he’d forgotten his manners. “Sure. My house isn’t far down the lane.”

Alone with this cowboy. It didn’t sound like a good idea. In fact, it sounded like a really bad idea. She eyed him up. He looked reasonable. And his grandmother certainly seemed to think the sun revolved around him. So why was she hesitating? It wasn’t as if she was moving in. She would figure out a plan and be out of his way in no time.

“You’re safe,” he said, as though reading her thoughts. “If you’re that worried about being alone with me, you heard my grandmother—you can sleep on her couch. Although, between you and me, it’s a bit on the lumpy side.”

His teasing eased the tenseness in her stomach. He’d been a gentleman so far. There was no reason to think he’d be a threat.

As she stood there, contemplating how to climb up into the passenger seat again, Cash said, “Let me give you a hand.”

She knew without having any money or her own transportation she was beholden to him, but that didn’t mean she had to give up every bit of self-reliance.

“Thanks, but I’ve got it.” She took her time, hiking up her dress in one hand while bracing the other hand on the truck frame. With all of her might she heaved herself up and into the seat without incident. While he rounded the vehicle she latched her seatbelt.

“The lane,” as he’d referred to the two dirt ruts, contained a series of rocks and potholes, and Meghan was jostled and tossed about like a rag doll.

“Did you ever consider paving this?” She clutched the door handle and tried to remain in her seat.

A deep chuckle filled the air. The sound was warm and thick, like a layer of hot fudge oozing down over a scoop of ice cream—both of which she could easily enjoy on a regular basis. Ice cream had always been something she could take or leave, but suddenly the thought of diving into a sundae plagued her, as did pulling back the layers of this mysterious cowboy.

In the next instance she reminded herself that she didn’t have the time nor the energy to figure him out—not that she had any clue about men. She’d thought she’d understood Harold. The idea of being a parent must have scared him—especially since he’d never planned on having kids. It scared her too. They could have talked about it. Supported each other. But for him to cut and run at the last minute, leaving her all alone to deal with this…That was unforgivable.

She’d been so wrong about him.

And that was the real reason she found herself at this out-of-the-way ranch. If she’d been so wrong about Harold she didn’t trust herself to make any more big decisions.

She glanced over at Cash. Had she been wrong to trust him?

She smothered a groan. This was ridiculous. She was overthinking everything now. She wondered if this cowboy had ever questioned his every decision. She studied the set of his strong jaw and the firm line of his lips—everything about him said he was sure of himself.

He turned and their gazes connected. His slate-gray eyes were like walls, holding in all his secrets. What kind of secrets could this rugged cowboy have?

CHAPTER THREE

CASH PULLED TO a stop in front of his two-story country home and none too soon. Meg was giving him some strange looks—not the kind he experienced from the good-time girls in the local cowboy bar. These looks were deeper, as though she had questions but didn’t know how to phrase them. Whatever she wanted to know about him, he was pretty certain he didn’t want to discuss it.

This ranch had become his refuge from the craziness of the rodeo circuit, and now he couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. Here at the Tumbling Weed he could be himself and unwind. Though the house had been built a few years ago, he’d never brought home any female friends. He didn’t want any misunderstandings. He made it known that he was a no-strings-attached cowboy. Period.

“Thanks for everything,” Meg said, breaking into his thoughts. “If you hadn’t helped me I don’t know what I’d have done.”

“I’m certain you would have made do. You don’t seem like the type of person who goes long without a plan.” When she didn’t say anything, he glanced over. She’d bitten down on her lower lip. “Hey, I didn’t mean anything by the comment. You’re welcome here until you feel better.”

“I don’t want to get in the way.”

“Have you looked at this house?” He pointed through the windshield. “I guess I got a little carried away when I had the plans drawn up. Tried to talk Gram into moving in but she flat-out refused. She said all of her memories were in her little house and she had no intention of leaving it until the good Lord called her home.”

“Your grandmother sounds like a down-to-earth lady.”

“She is. And the best cook around.”

He immediately noticed Meg’s lips purse. He’d momentarily forgotten she was some kind of cook. He’d bet his prize mare that Meg’s scripted cooking couldn’t come close to his grandmother’s down-home dishes, but he let the subject drop.

Meg reached for the door handle. “Before I leave I’d love to hear about some of her recipes.”

He’d met women before who only had one thing on their minds—what they could freely gain from somebody else. He didn’t like the thought of the Jiffy Cook using his grandmother’s recipes to further her career. If he had his way that would never happen. And the sooner he got her settled, the sooner she’d be rested and on her way.

“Shall we go inside? I’ll see if I can find something for you to change into.”

“That would be wonderful. Every girl dreams about their wedding dress, but they never realize how awkward it can be to move in.”

“I couldn’t even imagine.”

He rushed around the truck, but by The time he got there Meg had already jumped out. Seemed she’d gotten the hang of rustling up her dress to get around. The woman certainly had an independent streak. What had convinced her to chain herself to Harold?

Love. That mythical, elusive thing women wanted so desperately to believe in. He refused to buy into hearts and Valentines. There was no such thing as undying love—at least not the romantic kind. His parents’ marriage should have been proof enough for him, but he’d given it a shot and learned a brutal lesson he’d never forget.

He led Meg up the steps to the large wraparound porch. This was his favorite spot in the whole house. Weather permitting, this was where he had his mid-morning coffee, and in the evening he liked to kick back to check out the stars.

“This is really nice,” she said, as though agreeing with his thoughts.

“Nothing better than unwinding and looking out over the pasture.”

“You’re lucky to have so much space, and this view is awesome. How big is the ranch?”

“A little more than sixteen hundred acres. Plenty of room to go trail riding.”

“It’s like having your own little country.”

He chuckled. She’d obviously spent too much time in the city. “It’s not quite that big. But it’s my little piece of heaven.” He moved to the door and opened it. “Ready to get out of that dress?”

Color infused her cheeks and she glanced away. He tightened his jaw, smothering his amusement over her misinterpretation of his words.

Meg kept her head down and examined the dirt-stained skirt. “Shame that all it’s good for now is the garbage.”

“Why would you want to keep a dress from a wedding you ran away from?”

A flicker of surprise showed in her eyes and then it was gone. “If you would show me where to go, I’ll get out of your way.”

“The bedrooms are upstairs.”

She stepped toward the living room and peered inside. “This is so spacious. And the woodwork is beautiful.”

Her compliment warmed his chest, and whatever he’d been meaning to say floated clean out of his head. This was the first time he’d shown any woman other than Gram around the house he’d helped design and build. He noticed how Meg’s appreciative gaze took in the hardwood floors, the built-in bookcases and the big bay window with the windowseat.

Why in the world did her words mean so much to him? It wasn’t as if they were involved and he was out to impress her. She was merely a stranger passing through his life.

“I’ll show you upstairs,” he said, anxious for a little distance. “I’m sure I’ll have something you can change into. Might not fit, but it’ll be better than all of that fluff.”

“I’m sorry to put you to such bother. If you are ever in Albuquerque you should look me up. The least I can do is take you to dinner.” She followed him to the staircase. “Didn’t you say your grandmother is a fan of the Jiffy Cook?”

He stopped on the bottom step and turned. What was she up to? He hesitated to answer, but the twinkle in Meg’s eyes drew him in. “She watches the show religiously. That’s why she was thrilled to get an invite to the wedding.”

“So why didn’t you attend? You could have gone as her escort.”

His gaze moved to the floor. “I don’t do weddings.”

“Is that from personal experience?”

His hands clenched. What was it with this woman, making him think about things he’d rather leave buried in the dark shadows of his mind? Refusing to reveal too much, he said, “Marriage is for dreamers and suckers. Eventually people figure out there’s no happily-ever-after, but by then it’s usually too late.”

“You can’t be serious! I’ve never heard such a cynical view on marriage. And especially from someone who has never even tried it.”

“Don’t always have to try something to know it’s a sham.”

He didn’t want to go any further with this conversation. He didn’t want to think about the kids of those unhappy marriages that had no voice—no choice.

He turned his back and started up the stairs. Not hearing her behind him, he stopped to glance over his shoulder. She remained in the foyer and shot him a pitying look that pierced his chest.

“That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard anyone say.”

He knew better than to discuss romance and marriage with a woman. He’d thought a runaway bride would have a different perspective on the whole arrangement, but apparently today hadn’t been enough to snuff out her foolish childhood fairytales.

“There’s no such thing as Cinderella or happily-ever-after.” He turned and climbed the rest of the stairs, certain she would follow him with that silly dejected look on her face as if he’d just told her there was no tooth fairy or Easter bunny.

Her heels clicked up the hardwood steps. There was a distinct stamp to her footsteps, as though she resented him pointing out the obvious to her. True, she had had a hard day, but what was he supposed to do? Lie to her? He didn’t believe in romance. Plain and simple.

“Let’s get you settled,” he said, coming to a stop in the hallway. “Then we’ll see about grabbing some chow…if you’re up to it?”

“Actually, I’m feeling better now. And something to eat does sound good.”

He opened the door and stepped back to let her pass.

“Is this your room?” she asked. “I don’t want to put you out.”

“No. Mine’s at the other end of the hallway. This happens to be the only other bedroom I’ve gotten around to furnishing.”

“You decorated this?” Her eyes opened wide as she began inspecting the green walls with the white crown molding.

“It isn’t anything great, but I figured if I was going to have a shot at talking Gram into moving in here she might be persuaded by a cheerful room.”

“It’s definitely cheerful. You did a great job. And I just love the sleigh bed. It’s so big you could get lost in it.”

He nearly offered to come find her, but he caught himself in time. Apparently Meg’s thoughts had roamed in the same direction as color flared in her cheeks and she refused to meet his gaze.

He smiled and propped his shoulder against the doorjamb. “This room has its own bathroom, so feel free to get cleaned up. I’ll go find you something to change into. I’ll be back.”

“Thanks. Seems like I’ve been saying that a lot. But I mean it. I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t been at the church.”

One minute she was strong and standing her ground and the next she was sweet and vulnerable. She left his head spinning.

“I’ll get those clothes.”

He slipped into the hallway and strode to his bedroom. What in the world was he supposed to give her to wear? there really wasn’t that much to her. She was quite a few inches shorter than him. And he recalled spying high heels when she lifted her dress.

Then there was her waist. She wasn’t skinny, but still none of his pants would even come close to fitting. Not even if they were cinched up with a belt. No, he’d have to think of something else.

Cash rummaged through his closet but found nothing suitable. Then he started sorting through his chest of drawers. He made sure to dig to the bottom, hoping to find something he’d forgotten about. He couldn’t believe he was doing all of this for a woman who was obviously still in love with what’s-his-face. Cash’s hands clenched tight around the T-shirt he’d been holding.

So, if she still loved this guy, why had she run out of the church? He was tired of contemplating that question—he resolved to try again and ask her straight up what had happened. Get it out in the open. Once he understood he’d…he’d give her advice—you know, from a guy’s perspective.

With a plan in mind, he grabbed a pair of drawstring shorts and a T-shirt. He knew she’d swim in them but it was the best he could do.

He returned to the guestroom and found the door shut. he rapped his knuckles against the wood. “Meg?” He waited a few seconds. Nothing. “Meg? It’s me.”

He didn’t hear anything. Guessing she’d opted for a shower, he decided to leave the clothes on the bed before heading down to the kitchen to scrounge up some food.

With a twist of the doorknob he swung the door open and stepped inside. His gaze landed on Meg sprawled over the bed and he came to an abrupt halt. What in the world?

She was lying on her stomach in nothing more than white thigh-high stockings, a garter belt and lacy bikini panties that barely covered her creamy backside…

He swallowed hard and blinked. The sexy vision was still there. He shouldn’t be here, but his feet refused to cooperate.

A soft sigh escaped her lips, snapping him from the trance. He dropped the clothes on the cedar chest at the end of the bed and hightailed it out of the room. The image of her draped over the bed would forever be tattooed on his memory.

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