Rancher to the Rescue. Jennifer Faye

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СКАЧАТЬ 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 СКАЧАТЬ