The Cowboy's Bride

Chapter Four

The next morning, sunshine poured through the crack in the curtains, and Isabella raised her head, only to find herself spooned inside Will Hardesty’s arms, his big body wrapped around her in the most intimate, unexpectedly delicious way. He was still asleep, his breathing deep and even.

Oh, dear.

She couldn’t remember assuming this position, entangled with him in a way that felt so right, yet so ridiculously wrong. With his thighs pressed against the backs of hers, her back against his torso, she fitted against him like a rogue puzzle piece that had found its home. They were absolutely not designed to fit together. And she should definitely not be feeling what she was definitely feeling against her backside.

All she’d wanted was a simple cuddle. And now look.

She blinked, her gaze trailing down the length of his muscled forearm and the fact that his long fingers were entwined with hers.

This was on her. She’d asked for this. Begged for this, actually. But she was almost sure nothing more had happened between them. Quite sure.

Unless…

No, she’d definitely only dreamed about him leaning over her, kissing her. It was certainly a dream because she remembered that there was some meadow involved and a creek or river rushing by them. Definitely just a dream. And this… this was just an accident. No doubt he was as completely unaware of this situation as she’d been a moment ago and she meant to keep it that way.

Deftly, she disengaged her fingers from his, lifted his heavy arm off her and slid away from him. He didn’t wake. Thank God. At least he would have no memory of—

“Morning,” he murmured behind her from the rumpled bed.

She froze with her back to him. “Morning,” she squeaked, a silent curse forming on her lips. She turned then to find him smiling at her.

“Sleep well?” he asked in a gravelly voice.

“Mm-hmm. You?”

“More or less.”

“You were”—she swirled her finger in the direction of the bed—“awake just then when I got up, weren’t you?”

“Uh-huh.” He was still grinning.

“So, you… saw—” She blushed fiercely.

“Yeah. It was nice.”

“Oh. No.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m mortified.”

He edged up on one elbow. “Nothing happened. It was a straight cuddle, start to finish. Thanks for the bed.” His eyes trailed down to her bare legs.

She sighed and pulled the buttoned edges of his shirt together. “And thanks for the…”

“I wouldn’t have taken advantage of you last night, Izzy.”

Studying him, she wondered how he seemed to read her thoughts so well. Had he heard her thinking that his self-control felt at the same time, both admirable and crushing? Crushing because if he had really kissed her last night, and not just in her dream, she would have been hard-pressed to stop whatever might have happened next.

“It’s Isabella,” she corrected, gathering up the dress she’d left on the floor.

“Isabella is your ex’s name for you. And your mother’s.”

The shadow on his jaw had darkened and it only made his eyes look bluer. She could almost imagine what he must have looked like as a boy. “Fine. You can call me whatever you want. I’m going to go get us some coffee in the lobby. It’s free. And I’m going to find some scissors to cut off part of this dress.”

“Okay. Izzy,” he called after her and the smile in his voice was still vibrating in her chest all the way to the lobby.

*

It only tooka few minutes for them to get back on the road after fortifying themselves with caffeine. Isabella sat curled in the seat at the back of the limo, staring out the window and feeling the remnants of yesterday’s wedding debacle in a whole new way. At least she’d stopped crying. She felt mostly numb. Will tried to distract her by pointing out the salient tourist attractions Amarillo offered. Like the weird-looking Cadillac Stonehenge planted in a straight line in the desert just outside of town. In this part of west Texas, people apparently had a lot of time on their hands. But him pointing it out was sweet.

Turning her face into the collar of his shirt she still wore, knotted around her waist above the cut-off wedding gown she was still forced to wear, she inhaled again, reminding herself that being held by him could have led to other, desperate things. And she wanted nothing to do with any of that. Ever again.

She inhaled deeply.

Well, perhaps foreswearing those other things for the rest of her life was a little drastic. But love… No, love in any of its many splendid forms was definitely off the table. Forever. And that wasn’t just because she couldn’t trust men or even her own untrustworthy, manipulative, attention-seeking family members.

It was her own judgment she could no longer trust.

Maybe her restlessness last night was because she couldn’t shut off her brain or quit reliving that awful moment in the church. Thinking of all the different versions of awful things she should have said but was in too much shock to say. Somewhere during the night, however, she decided that her anger at what Theo had done to her paled in comparison to the anger she felt with herself for being blind to it.

Yes, she’d clearly dodged a bullet by not marrying Theo, knowing what was likely in store for any marriage with a man who would do what he did. That didn’t make it hurt less that she’d trusted him. Been duped by him. That she hadn’t even really questioned his loyalty or his love for her.

And she imagined her mother right now, judging her for all of it. Upset that it hadn’t gone her way. If she was here, Isabella would be getting an earful about exactly what her part in the whole mess had been and how she could fix it. There was no fixing it with Theo. That much she knew for sure. But that didn’t stop her from remembering those two years together. Because without remembering, there was no letting go.

So, that was what she did for the first few hours of the drive. Piece by piece, she tried to let go of the future she had settled for. The one based on a quicksand of lies. She wasn’t foolish enough to believe it would be easy or even quick.

Part of the blame was hers, of course. She’d let that happen to her. She’d allowed it by wanting that future with Theo so badly. The sense of finally fitting in somewhere. She’d allowed it by not looking too hard, not expecting enough, and not feeling sure enough of herself to ask for what anyone, what any self-respecting person deserved.

No, it was her fault. For believing love could fix her or make her whole. Love was just a lie. And all those romantic movies Lucille had shown her as a child? Fantasy. Perhaps it was just that simple and that sad. Anyway, she decided, the only thing she could do was look forward, to a whole other future on her own, somewhere in Seattle, near Carrie and her family—her chosen family. Single forever.

She looked up and met Will’s gaze in the rearview mirror. An acknowledging smile tipped his mouth—which, by the way, was a beautiful mouth, slightly curved up at the corners naturally, despite his determination to look unapproachable. It was those blue eyes of his, though. Blue as the Colorado sky in summer and hedged by dark lashes that hinted at the dark auburn in his wavy, short hair.

“I could use some more coffee, maybe some food,” he said. “Pit stop?”

Isabella moved up a few seats, so she didn’t have to shout. “Yes, please.” It was the first words they’d spoken for hours. “Or I might just fall asleep. And that would be hardly fair considering you hardly slept at all last night.”

After a long pause, he said, “I slept enough.”

No, he hadn’t. Sleepless in Amarillo. Ugh. She could tell Will Hardesty wasn’t a man who talked about his feelings and wouldn’t likely share anything with her. Meaning… it would be a long ride to Seattle.

She needed to stretch her legs.

They stopped in a small town that had two stoplights and a gas station, but a Carvel soft serve on one corner that also boasted hot coffee for all the travelers who happened through here.

She had borrowed a pair of scissors from the front desk of last night’s hotel to chop off her wedding gown to knee length this morning. If she looked like a refugee from Goodwill, so be it. On the other hand, Will in his white tee and black suit looked like he’d just walked off a photo shoot for men’s cologne.

She frowned. Someone should bottle his scent.

They bought coffee and two cones and ate them simultaneously under a tree facing the mountains in the distance. Covertly, she watched him enjoy the ice cream as hers melted a little down the side of the cone. She licked off the drips trying to remember how long since she’d had the simple pleasure of an ice cream cone.

“You talked in your sleep last night,” he told her, taking a long sip of his coffee.

Her cheeks heated. “I did?” How embarrassing. “What did I say?”

“Not much I could understand. But your fiancé’s name did come up once or twice.”

Horrifying.But she did recall the edge of some dream that involved Theo and a certain difficult judge’s courtroom.

“All that champagne did nothing to shut my brain up.” She leaned her head back against the trunk of the tree whose rough bark felt like a balm to her now. In the distance, a meadow stretched out before them covered with wildflowers in a riot of colors. “And when I did sleep, I saw Theo’s best man, Alan, as I walked up the aisle, unable to look at me. He couldn’t meet my eye. It was odd. I thought so even then. And now, I think he must have known. About Theo, I mean. And if he knew, then Meg, his wife, knew, too. My maid of honor knew and couldn’t bring herself to tell me.”

He braced his hands atop his bent knees. “Maybe that’s just a guess?”

“Maybe,” she admitted. “I don’t think so though.”

“And if she had? Told you? That’s not an easy thing to hear.”

“But it would have been the right thing. Wouldn’t you? Tell a friend? If you knew?”

“If I knew my friend’s girl had some guy on the side? I guess it would depend on how close we were. It’s a risk. Or it’s none of my business. I guess you’d have to be willing to lose that friend.”

Isabella sipped her coffee slowly, staring out at the field. A riot of birds sang in the trees and swooped off together at the sound of a truck’s horn on the highway. “If she’d told me, I would have been grateful to have avoided all that. Not angry. Because somehow, deep down, I… I wasn’t altogether surprised.”

For a moment, she remembered months ago, standing outside Town Hearth, their favorite restaurant in Dallas, filled with sparkling chandeliers and a yellow submarine, and waiting for Theo. He was late as happened often, and she stood alone under the streetlight—because waiting for him in the lobby in a protracted, solitary wait was something she’d done before and hated—watching all the couples walking in together, laughing, kissing or holding hands. At least she could pretend she was waiting for a Lyft or cab, which she had been about to do.

She’d pulled her wrap more tightly around her shoulders, feeling the evening chill into her bones.

When he finally appeared, twenty minutes late, he’d looked… ruffled. Maybe now disheveled was a better word. His shirt was buttoned wrong, which he instantly remedied when he saw her staring at it.

“Shoot,” he’d muttered, fumbling with his shirttail.

“Where have you been?” she wanted to know as he kissed her cheek and steered her inside with a charming smile.

“Work,” he replied. “Man. It was crazy today. Getting ready for the draft. And at the last minute my old man—uh—had some new jerseys distributed and wanted me to try one on. They look good. It’s gonna be a good season.”

“Why didn’t you call? I’ve been standing here for twenty minutes. I was about to leave.”

“I’m really sorry. I left my phone in my office and then rushed to get here.” He ran a hand through his curly dark hair, taming it back. “Hey. Let’s just have a nice dinner, okay?” With an arm around her, he squeezed her tightly as they entered the lobby, and he greeted the staff who knew him well. As the hostess escorted them to their table, he’d leaned close to Isabella. “Smile. We can make this a good night or a bad night. You choose.”

And just like that, whatever had happened was on her.

And somehow, she’d allowed that. Why? Even now, she couldn’t answer that. Except that she had needed him to love her. Maybe that was what she’d always needed from the men she’d been involved with. Maybe because she longed to know what that felt like. And maybe what she’d felt for him wasn’t really even love at all. Looking back now, she doubted that his father or work had had anything at all to do with his tardiness. But she’d let that and maybe a hundred other little cuts go untended. Until they ended up with one giant incision that had gutted their life together.

Will said, “You’re well out of that, I’d say.”

She nodded. Yes. Yes, she was. And she was alone. Maybe that was the one thing she feared most. Or the result she’d expected all along. “Deep down, I knew something wasn’t right.”

He nodded silently, eating his cone.

She folded her legs and swallowed hard. “It hardly seems fair that you know this very personal thing about me—this really awful thing, my worst day ever—and I know virtually nothing about you. Except that you own a limo company.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Well, tell me your worst day. Hypothetically.”

He took a long sip of his hot coffee, clearly trying to decide whether to play this game or not. “As worst days go, I’ve got a few. But here’s one. On a freezing day in February, five years ago on a football field in Minnesota, I lost my lifelong dream career in the NFL to a busted leg. That was the worst day of my life. Almost.”

“Almost?” She turned fully toward him. “Wait. You were a football player? On what team?”

“Rams. Running back.”

“Oh, my—How awful. I’m so sorry. It must have been a terrible injury to stop your career.” She thought of the scar she’d glimpsed on his leg.

“Yeah.” He laughed. “It was the kind of tackle people turn their TV sets off over. But that’s all behind me now.”

They were quiet for a while, lost in their own thoughts. Then, she said, “You were lucky. I never had a dream that big. The NFL. And you achieved it. That’s amazing.”

With a slow smile, he said, “Bet you never dreamed you’d be killing time in a field of wildflowers in Podunk, West Texas with a limo driver, eating Carvel ice cream.”

“And I bet you never dreamed you’d be driving some crazy runaway bride all the way to Seattle.”

He winked. “What do you say we go find a place to buy you something to wear?” He stood, then reached a hand down to help her up.

She hesitated. But his skin felt warm, and his grip was strong but tender. She had a flashback memory of waking up in his arms this morning. As he pulled her up, she nearly collided with him. At five six, she wasn’t what she’d ever considered short, but she felt small beside him. He held her hand for a moment longer than strictly necessary before letting her go, staring down at her as if he were about to say something, but he stopped himself. Probably before he shared another thing he’d regret revealing.

They found a small strip of shops that included a pharmacy where they bought essentials and a boutique whose buyer was no doubt the sweet older woman behind the cash register, from the looks of the clothes. He prowled the store with her, just the same, choosing and rejecting items together, with Isabella trying on a floppy hat and sunglasses, striking a pose in her devastating Goodwill-ish ensemble, making him crack a smile. Which he shouldn’t have because that only encouraged her to try for another one.

She shooed him away as she snagged some new underwear and a bra to replace the built-in corset-like one in her wedding gown. He picked out a blouse for her that wasn’t awful, but kind of cute in a seventies kind of way, and she found some jeans and flip-flops, all of which she wore directly out of the store while ignoring the woman’s stunned look as Isabella deposited what was left of her wedding gown into the trash.

“You’ll probably want this back,” she said, handing him his shirt. “But I do think the tee shirt suits you. I mean, with the cowboy boots and all.”

Will glanced down at the black leather Tecovas he wore under his trousers. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”

“Old habits? I thought you were from St. Louis. Or was it LA? The Rams and all. Not exactly cowboy territory. Now, Dallas on the other hand—”

“Montana,” he said. “That’s where I grew up.”

“Montana? Were you a cowboy? On a ranch?” she teased.

“Yup. Small town. Marietta, Montana. Population, not enough. NFL prospects, zero.”

“Wow, I was just kidding. But…” she breathed as they made their way to the pharmacy down the street. “Montana. That’s like another planet. I mean, kind of. You’ve come a long way.”

“Marietta itself wasn’t so bad. Mostly me and my dreams it couldn’t hold.”

His dreams. Of an NFL career gone wrong.“Is your family still there? Your ranch?”

He nodded distractedly, not wanting to pursue that thread of conversation. “Are you hungry? I’m hungry. That cone didn’t cut it.”

She nodded. “But can we not do burgers, though? I might just turn into a french fry if I eat another one.”

He chuckled. “Let’s see what we can find.”

They found a nice little restaurant in the center of town, run by a young couple who prided themselves on using all locally sourced, organic ingredients. Lunch was stunningly good, and Isabella found she was starving. But even more, she enjoyed watching him enjoy the thickly stacked veggie lasagna he ordered.

He was undeniably handsome but seemingly unaware of his good looks, which seemed impossible. But after a few years with Theo and his obsession with mirrors, Will’s attitude about his looks was refreshing. After the last two days, the food here seemed to fuel him up. And she felt grateful to him for the sacrifice he’d made to drive her. Well, she was paying him a good amount of money, but still. This would be far from easy money for him.

When he ordered crème br?lée for dessert, his jock card notched up a few degrees in her opinion.

“There is something to be said for small towns,” she mused aloud, eating the creamy sweet with a sigh. “And small-town restaurants.”

He agreed with a sated sigh of his own. “This place. We would’ve driven right by it. And never tasted that crème br?lée.”

“Which would have been a crime.”

“Agree.”

“Do they even have desserts like this in… where was your ranch? Marietta, Montana?”

“It’s not my ranch. Not anymore.” He chugged a long drink of coffee and looked for the waitress.

With a frown, she wondered what was behind his sudden change of mood. “I’m sorry. That’s none of my business. I didn’t mean to pry.”

He shrugged. “It’s all right. I left years ago to go play college ball and then on to pro ball. I don’t think any of them have forgiven me for it.”

“Forgiven you for chasing your dream?”

“I’m the oldest. My only job in life was to stay on the ranch. Pretty much failed that miserably.” He laughed humorlessly. “I don’t know why I’m telling you that.”

“Why not tell me? Is it a secret?”

“Not exactly. It’s just… my own thing to carry.”

She sighed. “Some secrets are heavier than others to carry alone. Besides, I’m pretty much a walking cautionary tale about the danger of keeping secrets.”

“Your life is a whole lot more complicated than mine right now.”

“Actually, I think I just simplified it immensely.” She felt his gaze on her as she scraped out the last of the sweet dessert. “So,” she asked, changing the subject for both their sakes, “if you weren’t driving me to Seattle, what would you be doing right now?”

The way he looked at her, she guessed he knew she was just trying to get him talking. Anything but awkward silence.

“Paperwork, mostly,” he admitted. “Taxes. Keeping the business afloat.”

“Do you like that? The business stuff?”

“Not really. But I like that the business is doing well. My partner, Isaiah, handles a lot of the day-to-day minutiae.”

“Minutiae. Now there’s a ten-dollar word for a running back.” She grinned, teasing him again.

“Oh. So, you’re a jock snob.”

“No,” she lied. “No. I’ve dated a few jocks in my day, but unlike you, most had the vocabulary of a frat boy.”

“So, you are a snob.”

She laughed. “I’m sorry. I guess, truthfully, you just don’t fit into my idea of the typical jock.”

“How so?”

“Most were more talkative than you, for one. Like they had to fill up the whole room with themselves. That’s not you.”

He narrowed a look at her, leaning back in his chair.

“Succinct. That’s how I’d describe you,” she said.

“Huh. I know that word, too,” he replied with a grin.

“Okay,” she admitted. “I’m embarrassed for thinking of you as any kind of stereotype. And you’re clearly already on a path to something else entirely.”

He motioned to the waitress for the check. “Yeah, but I’d still be playing football if I could.”

“I know. Now that I know who you are, I think I even saw you play once against the Cowboys.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I think I remember a long pass and a crazy fifty-yard run to the end zone. A touchdown.”

He grinned. “Regular season game in Dallas, 2017. I’m surprised you remember.”

“Oh, it was an unforgettable play, but the Rams won, even though I was rooting for the Cowboys. You were good. Really good.”

“Thanks. Or… did you just google me to butter me up for some other mission impossible?”

“Oh, I definitely would have googled if I could have. But no phone, remember? Anyway, back then, we were strangers. I couldn’t have picked you out of a roomful of players.”

“And now?”

“Now,” she said with a lift of her shoulders, “we’re coconspirators in a great escape.”

*

On the wayto Denver, she moved up to the front passenger seat without comment or asking permission. Will was glad for the company, though she found ways to fill any awkward silences by messing with all the buttons, raising and lowering the partition like a kid with a new toy, and leaning into the sun’s rays pouring down through the sunroof.

She scoured his Sirius radio for music that made the drive go faster, landing on a country-western station that suited her taste. There were plenty of love songs full of beer and trucks and cut-off jeans, but one old Carrie Underwood song in particular about revenge on a cheating boyfriend made her sing along out loud. Will smiled, watching her. She had a good voice and kept up with Carrie note for note. He hummed along but wasn’t about to sing, even though he theoretically fully supported the idea of her slashing Theo’s expensive tires or bashing his windows with a Louisville Slugger. With her bare feet on the dash, Isabella committed fully to the song with a ferociousness that impressed him. And when it was done, he high-fived her.

Instead of letting it go at a slap, she threaded her fingers between his for a long moment of solidarity before pulling back her hand with a blush.

“Sorry,” she apologized. “Caught up in the moment.”

He smiled at her. “Understood. A little long-distance revenge-dreaming is probably in order.”

She laughed. “I’d enlist you, but I think this ride will tap me out. And… I apologize for singing along, getting Carried away—pardon the pun. Sometimes, I don’t know, singing just makes me feel better.”

“Noted,” he said. “And you’re damned good. So, no apologies necessary.”

She laughed again. “You’re very kind, sir. But you are admittedly a captive audience.”

Hearing her laugh did unexpected things to his chest. It was dangerous how she was growing on him. Dangerous enough that it scared him a little that he could still feel her fingers intertwined with his, or that he wished she’d held on a little longer.

She was nothing like Kaylee. The thought came out of the blue. Light to Kaylee’s dark, lean to his ex’s enhanced curves, purely comfortable in clothes Kaylee would never have looked at twice. She wasn’t what he’d expected out of a woman who’d been ready to marry Theo Margate. Or the daughter of a politician like her mother. She wasn’t even what he would consider his type. But maybe his type was exactly the opposite. She was… unassuming, even. Down-to-earth. He liked that about her. He hadn’t expected any of that when this ride first started.

Nor had he expected to wake up this morning with her in his arms.

Nope. No. Absolutely not.

He was not letting her in. She was still spiraling from what had just happened to her. And rebound relationships were the worst kind. And he wasn’t looking for any relationship at all. Maybe even friendship would be a mistake. But they had this ride together and they’d just have to make the best of it. After that, they’d probably never see each other again.

Definitely wouldn’t see each other again. She’d be in Seattle. He’d be in Dallas. And everything would work out just fine.

In Denver, they found a jeweler willing to pay her a fair price for that ring she was selling—which was damn good money. Isabella tugged it off her finger and handed it over without the slightest hesitation. The jeweler had silently been sizing them up the whole time, trying to figure out who Will was in this situation, but neither of them saw fit to inform him. Better to keep him guessing. Though she did have to fill out paperwork on the ring and give her name and information, he handed over the cash without blinking—such was the quality of that stone. At least Theo had managed to do something right. That money would take care of Will’s fee and then some and set her up for some time while she was on her own in Seattle. Until she could straighten out her life.

Tonight, they looked for a better hotel and found one with connecting rooms. This time, she paid. In cash.

*

As they parted,going to their separate rooms, the space between them felt strange. Awkward, even. After two days of constant proximity, Isabella felt really alone for the first time since the wedding. Sitting alone on the bed, she glanced around the room, remembering that right now, she would be somewhere in Croatia, vacationing on a gorgeous beach beside Theo if Gina had never happened. None the wiser to his cheating or lying to her face. It hit her like a gust of wind, the hurt and grief over what should have been the happiest day of her life.

But did she still love him?

She flopped disconsolately backward on the bed. No. Some hurts were too big to sustain the kind of love she’d hoped for with him. The kind of love she’d fooled herself into believing.

She thought back to those moments before the wedding, the panicky feeling of being short of breath, lost, which had nothing to do with the built-in corset of her gown and everything to do with her knowing. Knowing something wasn’t quite right. Yet, still, she’d carried on, not trusting herself to question things she knew were wrong.

A shrink would probably blame that on her childhood, on her mother whose love always came with critical strings attached and on her father who was rarely there for her. Absent, mostly. But Isabella really had no one to blame but herself. She was a grown-ass woman and fully capable of making choices for herself. Even if her mother still loomed like a shadow over every aspect of her life. Distance was what she needed. She needed to stand on her own. Be completely herself for maybe the first time in her life. She could do that in Seattle. She’d find a place, rent an apartment, get a job. Be herself. She didn’t need her family or anyone to complete her.

She was complete, all on her own.

She reached for the hotel phone and dialed her grandmother’s number. Lucille answered after a few rings.

“I’m fine,” she rushed to say before Lucille could even ask. “It’s me. Isabella.”

“Isabella! Dearest. Where are you?”

“I’m perfectly safe. Please don’t ask where I’m going. I don’t want you to have to lie to Mother.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sakes. I need to know where you are. I won’t tell your parents if you don’t want me to. But everyone is worried about you.”

“On the road. Somewhere. Will Hardesty, the limo driver, is driving me. Tell them not to worry.”

“You’re on the road for days with a man you don’t even know, and you tell me not to worry?”

“It was Theo we should have been worried about, Grandma. I’ll never be able to face everyone again. Will is… well, he’s…” She felt herself blush. “Don’t worry about me, okay?”

“Don’t be silly. Of course, I’ll worry about you. And of course, you’ll face everyone again. It was Theo who was humiliated. That’s his problem. Everyone in that chapel was on your side.”

None of that mattered now. “Listen. Can you please get ahold of my personal stuff, my passport, my wallet, credit cards, phone and send them to my friend Carrie in Seattle? She’ll forward them on to me herself.”

“Seattle? What in the world? Are you not coming home? Your mother is—”

“No, Grandma. I’m not. I need to be away from there. From them. I’m not blaming them. I just need to be on my own. And I need to be far from Theo.”

A long pause stretched between them. “Oh, sweetie. I’m so sorry that things turned out the way they did. I can have him dispatched if you want.”

Isabella laughed out loud at her eighty-year-old grandmother’s Betty White delivery, picturing her fiercely protective expression. “Oh, Lucille, you’re the best. But if by dispatched you mean to force him into marrying that Gina person, then I think he’s got that handled all on his own. Any other ideas, well, keep them to yourself. As for me, I’m well out. I’m grateful to her, actually, for saving me from an ugly divorce that was definitely coming down the road for me.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” Lucille said, sounding unconvinced. “You know there’s always Big Mike.”

She was kidding. Sort of. Big Mike was some possibly imaginary character to whom she comically referred when someone misbehaved or needed an attitude adjustment. Or needed something fixed. Whether Big Mike was real or not, Isabella never had any doubt that her grandmother could make things happen that others could not. Not only because of her money, but because she was a woman of influence and always had been. Her husband had been a banker and financier his whole life, and she had run in circles that Isabella’s mother longed to be part of. But Eliza had never had Lucille’s charm or wit. Determination was her mother’s forte and had served her well in politics. Isabella’s marriage to Theo would have sealed the deal for her.

Now, that was gone, and all Isabella could feel was relief.

“Just the things, Grandma. That’s all I need. You’ll need to sneak them past Mother though. Can you handle that?”

“Dear. Is the sky blue?”

“Well… right now, it’s kinda gray.”

“Very funny. Do you need money?”

“No. I sold the ring.” Isabella glanced down at her empty ring finger, remembering the moment he slid it on her finger. She squeezed her eyes shut.

“Well done. Then, I’ll get you your things and send them on to you. But promise to keep in touch and let me know where you are.”

“I will. When I get settled. Promise. Thanks, Grandma.” She gave Lucille Carrie’s address and hung up.

After a long, hot shower that completely disguised the emotions still rampaging through her, thinking about all the friends she’d surely never be able to face again after her utter humiliation, she felt considerably better, and she applied some of the makeup she’d bought earlier.

She knocked gently on his half-open connecting door and saw that he had a baseball game on and had fallen sound asleep on the bed. For a moment, she just stood and stared at him. She rarely had the nerve to study him while he was awake, and a slow smile crossed her lips. He looked tired from all the driving, the last, restless night and well… life. But asleep, he almost looked boyish, with his long lashes shadowing his cheeks and his usual scowl relaxed into a semblance of contentment. His hair wasn’t red, but not brown either. Some dark chestnut color that was as unique as the blue of his eyes.

She let her gaze drift over the rest of him, lying with ankles crossed, arms folded across his chest as if that stance could somehow protect him. From what? Her? Her drama? Maybe just life. For an ex-football player, he was still lean and in shape and she wondered if he worked out to stay that way or if he was just naturally… hot. Probably both.

The feel of his shoulder, firm yet soft under her cheek, flooded back to her. They’d not spoken another word about last night or how they’d ended up spooned together in that motel bed, but she’d thought about it often enough today. Whenever his eyes met hers or he accidentally touched her, she remembered how he’d made her feel. Protected. Safe.

And let’s be real—hungry. A shiver ran through her.

Hungry for human contact. Hungry for connection. Hungry for whatever Theo couldn’t, wouldn’t ever be able to give her.

She shook off the thought and turned away from Will. He wasn’t an option. Theo definitely wasn’t either. The only option she had was to stand on her own two feet and move forward.

On the bedside table, his cell phone vibrated with a phone call. He’d silenced the ringer. She only hesitated for a moment before edging over to surreptitiously see who was calling him.

Who is Liam?

Behind her, she heard Will sit up.

Caught, she felt heat crawl up her neck. “I’m sorry. I heard your phone vibrating. You got a call. I didn’t want to wake you.”

He ran a hand through his rumpled hair. “Margate again?”

If it had been Theo, she wasn’t sure what she would have done. Answered it herself? “Someone named Liam.”

Will rubbed his eyes. “My brother.”

“Do you want to call him back?” she asked, offering him the phone.

“No.”

“Really? Why not?” She was an only child, but even today, she wished she had siblings.

If she’d had even one, they would have had her back the other day, been her support system after Theo’s betrayal. Instead, here she was with a limo driver, ex-jock she hardly knew who clearly took for granted a brother who cared enough to call him.

She handed him his phone and he stared down at the missed call. “I’m sorry. You’re right. That’s really none of my business.”

“It’s all right. It’s complicated between Liam and me.”

“Families are complicated,” she agreed. “Mine’s no exception. He’s younger than you?”

“Yeah. I have two sisters, as well.”

“Four children in your family?” She sighed. “How lucky you are.”

“I rarely see them anymore.”

“Why not?” she asked in disbelief.

Will stood, walking over to the window to look out at the view of the city. “The last time I was back there in Marietta was for my father’s funeral. That was two years ago.”

Isabella sat on the edge of the bed, closer to him. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “It’s okay. It’s a long story. Don’t get me wrong. I love them. All of them. But… like I said, it’s complicated.”

She, of all people, understood about complicated families. “I’d love to hear it.”

“Hear what?”

“Your long story. In case you hadn’t noticed, we’ve got nothing but time on our hands.”

He turned back to her, amused. “You definitely don’t want to hear about my family.”

“Yes, I do. What are your sisters’ names?”

For a long moment, he looked like he was weighing whether he even wanted to share that with her. “Shay and Cami. Shay’s my… well, she’s my twin.”

Isabella’s mouth dropped open. “You’re a… a twin?”

“Fraternal. Obviously.”

“Oh my—that’s… that’s like hitting the sibling jackpot.”

A grin tipped his mouth.

She clasped her hands together beneath her chin. “I wanted a sister my whole life. Or a brother. You’re a twin with a built-in best friend from birth. Are you two close? Does she look like you? Is she an athlete, too? Or is she—”

“Whoa, whoa!” he said. “That’s way too many questions on an empty stomach. Let’s get something to eat. It’s been a long day and I’m hungry. You hungry?”

“Starving actually,” she admitted.

“I read there’s a good craft beer restaurant down the street in LoDo if you’re up for it. It’s close.”

“Can we walk? I can’t face the car again right now.”

“C’mon.”

*

Will had beenhere before with his team staying in the Lower Downtown district, with its myriad of entertainment and restaurants lining the pedestrians-only streets. It brought back memories of good times, when his life had felt like it was going in the right direction. Playing ball had always been his one true thing and what he’d imagined for himself since he was a kid. Ranching had never been his dream, but he’d kept his dream of football tucked away until high school when it became more than a one-night-a-week highlight. It became his passion. It was then his talent had become apparent. All those years on the ranch, roaming the wilds of their land, running, hiking, wrestling steers, had made him strong. Running had come naturally to him and he was faster than anyone on the team. Faster in college. Faster in the NFL.

But all that running came to a screeching halt that day five years ago. Even now, after years of rehab, he still had a slight limp if he walked too far or sat for too long. Even now, after a long day of driving, he still had some pain in his left leg as they walked down the concourse. Maybe he always would.

Yeah, he’d been good. But that part of his life was over. Now it seemed the only running he did was from memories of things he couldn’t change and from feeling things he didn’t want to feel.

Now, as Isabella walked beside him down the pedestrian walkway, talking about her friend Carrie in Seattle and her children, Greyson and Avery, Isabella was stirring all those feelings up again.

She’s a job. A paying job. Nothing more. He had to get her to Seattle and that would be that. He’d had no business holding her last night or feeling that it was like they’d been doing it forever. Admittedly, it was the best sleep he’d had in months, yet even though nothing else happened between them, waking up with her like that had unsettled him in ways he couldn’t yet define.

“When Greyson was a toddler, we went to the Space Needle to see the views,” she was saying, “Carrie and Greyson and me, and he was toddling a few feet ahead of us, looking out the glass windows and he found a piece of discarded gum on the floor and popped it in his mouth!”

Reengaged in what she was saying, Will made a shocked face.

She giggled, remembering. “I know, right? We practically wrestled that kid to the ground getting that gum out of his mouth. It was horrifying and, at the same time, hilarious in a disgusting kind of way. Carrie took him right to the doctor, who basically patted her on the head and said he’d be fine, but to watch him closely for days—to make sure he doesn’t pick up any more gum off the street.” She laughed again, a sound that warmed Will. “But he was fine. Babies are apparently quite resilient.”

“I don’t know anything about kids,” he mused. “My sister has a son. He’s thirteen going on thirty, so I hear. I’ve missed a good part—well, most of his life. I do regret that.”

She nodded. “I know what you mean. For me, Seattle is far away from Dallas and I don’t get to see Greyson or his sister, Avery, or Carrie anywhere near as much as I want to. But that’s life these days, isn’t it? Everyone scattered all over the map. But it’s time that’s the most precious thing, not geography.”

Geography.

It was what he’d told himself kept him from his family for years. But even he knew that was a lie. He alone had made that choice. Maybe for good reason. Maybe not. But he’d left that port a long time ago and now he was adrift in unfamiliar waters.

They found a likely-looking restaurant and were seated in a prime spot beside a window overlooking the busy pedestrian walkway. Outside, streetlamps illuminated the crowded walkway where street jugglers and musicians had gathered small circles of onlookers. Two little girls, let loose from a day of school and homework, cartwheeled down the sidewalk as their parents tried to wrangle them in, but they might as well be trying to herd cats, steering them instead into the open avenue away from crowds. Will was still thinking about the kids he had once planned on having with Kaylee, knowing that it was a blessing there had been no kids involved when they’d divorced.

The waiter approached them. A tall, lanky twenty-something kid named Randy introduced himself as their server, then performed the complicated dinner special specifics like a pro and finished by taking their drink orders. Will ordered a craft beer and Isabella got a glass of pinot noir.

Practically before Randy could move on, a boy who looked to be around fourteen ran up to their table with a paper menu and a pen in his hands. His father stood behind the kid looking slightly embarrassed.

“You’re… you’re Will Hardesty, aren’t you? Running back for the Rams?”

Will’s gaze slid between the boy and his father. “I am. At least I used to be a running back. Not for a while.”

The kid’s father said, “We’re from LA. Just visiting here. We saw you play many times at the LA Colosseum. My son collects autographs from all players and he—”

“Can I have yours?” the kid finished, thrusting the paper menu in his direction. “Please?”

“We’re really sorry to bother you at dinner,” the father said, reaching a hand out to Will. “I’m John Sartov and this is my son, Aiden.”

Will took John’s hand then shook Aiden’s, too. “Sure. I’d be happy to.” He signed the menu to the boy who could hardly contain his excitement at the personal note. FOLLOW YOUR DREAMS. YOURS, WILL HARDESTY.

“Thanks! Can I get a selfie, too? Nobody’ll believe me when I tell them I saw you! You’re like the hardest to get.”

“Aiden—” his father warned half-heartedly, clearly hoping Will would say yes.

Isabella, who’d been watching the interaction with a mixture of amusement and surprise, said, “How about I take one of all three of you?”

“Wow, that’d be great.” John handed her his phone. “Thanks so much!”

The three of them posed with smiles and Aiden making a silly face, but she snapped several shots before handing John his phone.

“We sure do miss you on that team,” John told him. “What a shame, that tackle. How’s the leg? Ever coming back?”

“Not likely,” he said simply. “You take care, Aiden. Enjoy the game.”

Aiden practically skipped away from their table after his dad, and Izzy watched them go with a secret smile at Will that she hid behind her pinot noir.

“You’re a celebrity. Autographs? Selfies? Wow.”

“Nah. That was rare.”

“Apparently, you’re a tough get. And I think you’re just being modest. I bet if you were in LA that would happen all the time.”

“That’s why I’m not in LA.” He took a sip of beer and watched her eyes sparkle with humor.

“I can understand that,” she agreed. “But admit it. That was a little bit fun.”

“It was fun while I was playing. But now, most people want to know when I’m going to be healed enough to play again. The answer is I’m as healed as I’ll ever be. And never. That’s not the answer they want to hear.”

“Still, to inspire a kid like that. Not everyone gets to have that kind of juice. You know that’s special, right?”

“Okay, Pollyanna. What do you say we order before that pinot noir goes to your head.”

“Fine, but…” she said, looking up at him with mischief, pushing her menu in his direction. “Can I have your autograph?”

He laughed, enjoying the sparkle in her eyes. His gut tightened fast and hard with want for her. Not the lascivious kind of hookup-want he’d felt on some lonely Friday nights in the last few years. Not even the kind of desire that had slowly seeped out of his marriage to Kaylee. This was something else. Something he didn’t entirely recognize.

Not for the first time, he wondered what Theo Margate had been thinking betraying a woman like Isabella Stanton. She was easy to be with and certainly not wallowing in sadness as one might expect after getting humiliated at her wedding. Maybe that was all a cover, who could say? But she’d managed, in less than two days, to rub the edges off his professional reticence and get under his skin.

The food was good, and the beer was great. As they ate, Izzy did most of the talking, circling around topics that she guessed were sensitive. But as they finished, he found her staring at him, hands clasped beneath her chin.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she replied, all innocence.

“Go on. Ask.”

“Ask what?”

“Whatever you’ve been wanting to ask since we were outside.”

“Oh,” she said, rearranging her napkin in her lap. “You mean about your sister? Your twin sister who you never see? It’s really none of my business—”

“Don’t let that stop you.” He grinned at her from behind his second beer.

“You don’t have to talk about her. I mean, I was just curious.”

Will took a deep breath. “Shay’s great. Beautiful. A single mom. Since my father died, she and Ryan have moved back in with my mom on the ranch.”

She nodded. “So, do you two have a secret language?”

He laughed out loud. “A secret language? Like Martian?”

“Maybe?”

“No, we didn’t have a secret language. But there were times when we could—you’ll think this is crazy—there were times when if one of us got hurt, the other one knew. I knew. Shay was accident prone. Still is as far as I know.”

“So, you’re psychic?”

He snorted. “No. That was strictly a me and Shay thing. And it’s been years since I’ve felt anything like that. Just when we were kids.”

“She must miss you.”

Will looked away. “I don’t want to paint the picture that my family doesn’t support me. My old man was another story, but the others… I basically left them to it all those years ago when I left to go to school. Then the NFL. They all understood, but they felt… abandoned. Particularly Shay and Liam. And the truth is, they were. I left. They stayed and carried the burden of the ranch. End of story.”

She reached across the table and touched his hand and felt him tense up. “That doesn’t sound like the end of any story to me. It sounds like a chapter in a story. Your story is long from over. And I bet you’ve got them all wrong. Your brother called you. That must count for something.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. I really don’t talk about it with anyone.”

“Well, now you have.” She smiled at him and pulled her hand away. “That wasn’t so bad, was it? I’m a stranger to your family without a single horse in that race. Just like you have no horses in mine. And believe me, I owe you a few no-judgment listens after you were forced to listen to me wailing over a no-good cheat halfway across Texas.”

He grinned. “You know your family thinks I’ve kidnapped you, right?”

Shock drained the color from her face. “They what?”

He arched a humorous brow. “The FBI might be after us right now.”

“Stop it.”

“Yeah, I don’t really think so. But your mother’s apparently pretty bent that I helped you disappear.”

“How do you know? Has she called you?”

“No. My partner, Isaiah, has been fielding the calls from them in our office. If anyone can handle your mother, he can.”

Isabella winced. “I’m so sorry I’ve dragged both you and your partner into my drama.”

“I don’t recall any dragging. I’m here because you’re paying me to drive you. And that’s what I’m gonna do.”

He probably just imagined her flash of disappointment, because the look on her face shifted before he could fully interpret it. And for all the wrong reasons, he wished he could take back the bluntness of his reasoning. Driving her had certainly started out as a simple job. But even he had to admit, it got more complicated with each passing hour, spending time with Isabella Stanton.

She sent him a quick smile as she wadded up her napkin on the tabletop. “So… kidnapping is off the table then?”

He laughed. “Yeah. Not my style.”

“Right.” She motioned to the waiter for the check. “Just my luck. Well, my family is just going to have to get over it. What do you say we go back to the hotel? It’s been a long day. I’m kind of tired.”