When memories crashed in on Alex Palermo, he drove. He never thought about a destination. He only knew that if he rolled down his truck windows, played some cowboy country on the radio and prayed, the memories would fade and so would the guilt. The praying part happened to be a new addition to the process. Pastor Matthews of the Bluebonnet Community Church had insisted he try it.
They’d joked that real men can eat quiche. Real men can pray. They can even cry every once in a while. As long as it didn’t become habit. They’d fist-bumped and joked over that.
On a cool day in December, Texas Hill Country wasn’t at its warmest. But the breeze coming through the open windows of his truck helped to clear his mind. He’d been doing really well, but tonight, maybe because it was almost ten years to the day since he’d killed his father, the memories had resurfaced with a vengeance.
No, he hadn’t really killed his father. Deep down he knew that he hadn’t. But for years he’d told himself he was responsible for the death of Jesse Palermo. In reality, alcohol and a mean bull had killed Alex’s father.
Earlier, standing in the arena where his father had drawn a bull rope—and his last breath—Alex had been hard put to remember that it hadn’t been his fault his dad had gotten on that bull.
The tires of his truck hummed on the pavement. He took a deep breath and turned up the radio. As if he could outrun the pain.
A few miles out of Bluebonnet Springs, he hit the brakes. Because either he’d gone crazy, or ahead of him, on the shoulder of the road, was a woman in a wedding dress. The last thing he wanted was a bride, even someone else’s bride. His common sense told him to keep on driving.
Common sense told him that he had enough problems of his own without getting tied up in someone else’s hard times. He’d taken off driving in the hopes of outrunning some of those problems.
Unfortunately he’d never been good at listening. His twin, Marcus, always accused him of being the good twin. He didn’t know if he’d agree with that, but he supposed he must have a chivalrous side. He pulled to the shoulder just ahead and got out of his truck. The woman was definitely real. And wearing a wedding dress. As if on cue, it started to rain. Steady, big drops. The kind of rain that danced across the pavement and soaked a person’s clothing.
“Need a lift?” he asked, hoping they could get back in the dry warmth of his truck soon.
Better yet, she could tell him she had a ride already on the way to pick her up. But a bride without a groom? That didn’t exactly spell wedding bells and happily-ever-after.
“I’m fine.” She said it with her chin raised a notch, even as the rain picked up pace. He was losing objectivity because that little lift of her chin showed some pride and big eyes that rivaled the stormy sky.
“Ri-i-i-ght.” He said it slowly. Did he point out to her that she was miles from anywhere, wearing a wedding dress and standing in the rain?
“You can go on. I know where I’m going.”
He looked around, at the open fields, pastures full of cattle and nothing else. He glanced back at her and grinned, because they both knew she was bluffing.
“I know we’re taught from the time we’re little not to get in the car with a stranger. But I think even your mama would want you to get in out of the rain.”
Hands up so she could see them, he took a step toward her.
She reached for the bag slung over her shoulder. “Don’t come any closer. I’m armed.”
He glanced at the bag and the object pointing through the thin cotton. “With a high-heeled shoe?”
“I’m warning you.” She issued the command with a startling amount of conviction as rain poured down from the steel-gray sky. She was a tiny thing with a pixie face and a massive amount of brown hair piled on top of her head.
Rain dripped down her face and she swiped it away with her shoulder. That chivalrous side of him kicked into gear. He jerked off his jean jacket and held it out to her. She eyed it the way a stray kitten eyed a bowl of milk, but didn’t take it.
“Well, I’m not really worried you’ll shoot me with a shoe.” He grinned as he said it, hoping to put her at ease. “But I do think we’re both in trouble if we don’t get out of this rain. I’m not going to hurt you, I just want to get you off the road.”
The rain picked up and he saw her shiver. Her feet were bare. So were her arms. She took another swipe at the water dripping down her face. She eyed the jacket and his truck.
“Listen, we could stand here all night or I can just literally pick you up and put you in my truck.” He did not want to do that. She looked like the kind of female that once a man had her in his arms, he’d want to hold her forever.
He didn’t do forever.
For a full minute she stood there facing him, then she nodded, giving in. He hurried ahead of her to open the passenger door of the truck. As she struggled to get her skirts under control, he took her hand and helped her in.
That hand was like a frail bird’s, cold and fine-boned. He held it gently, afraid he’d hurt her.
“Are we on the way to the church? Or do you have somewhere else you’d like me to take you?” he asked as he climbed behind the wheel of his truck.
Huddled in the seat, her teeth chattered. He turned up the heat.
“Do you know Dan Wilson?” she asked, hugging herself for warmth.
“Yeah, I know Dan.”
“Could you take me to his house?”
He tried again to give her his jacket. This time she took it, sniffing at the collar before settling it over her bare arms.
“It’s clean,” he said, a little defensively.
“I know, I just...” She shrugged a bit and looked sheepish. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day. If you could take me to Dan’s...”
“I can, but do you know what you’re getting yourself into?”
She gave him a puzzled look. “No, I guess not.”
“Dan isn’t the most pleasant guy in the world. He’s been sick and that’s made him extra cranky.”
“I’m his granddaughter.”
He had pulled onto the road so he shot her a quick look. “Seriously? I mean, not that you can’t be. But I didn’t know Dan even had a granddaughter.”
“He hasn’t seen my mom since she was a little girl. I tried to get him to come to the wedding...” She let the words trail off as her gaze slid to the window. A delicate finger brushed across her cheek.
Tears. He’d never been good with tears. He had two sisters and fortunately neither of them was the type to cry. The Palermo siblings had learned the hard way that tears didn’t help. In fact, sometimes tears made it worse.
His dad hadn’t invented the warning “Do you want me to give you something to cry about?” but he’d definitely put action to the words. He’d put the words into action the night he’d locked Lucy in the tack room of their barn. He had put the words into action the night he’d punched Marcus in the throat. They’d all learned not to cry and they’d learned not to tell.
But that had nothing to do with now and the lady sitting beside him wanting a ride to Dan’s.
“None of my business, but does Dan know you’re coming? I don’t think he’d take kindly to a surprise family reunion.”
From the look on her face, a grim mixture of worry and sadness, she wasn’t amused by his poor attempt at humor. Some things just weren’t that funny. And a bride that was walking down a back road, still in her wedding dress, pretending a shoe was a weapon? He guessed she’d had a pretty rough day.
The road was bumpy, but as they bounced along he managed to open the glove compartment and pull out a box of tissues.
“I’m not going to cry,” she insisted. But a few tears trickled down her cheeks.
“I guess I don’t have a right to ask what happened. But if you need to talk, I’m all ears.” He glanced in the mirror. “Seriously, have you ever seen ears this big?”
She glanced at him and burst into watery laughter, shaking her head as she surveyed his ears.
“They aren’t that big,” she countered. At least he’d made her laugh. He’d always been good for a laugh. And not much more.
“He picked the caterer,” she said quietly into the darkened interior of the truck. Her voice was soft, kind of sweet.
The windshield wipers clicked as they swept back and forth, and Chris LeDoux was singing “Cadillac Ranch.” Alex cleared his throat and shot her another quick look.
“Who picked the caterer? You mean you let him decide what to feed the guests and you’re upset about that? I think you’d need a bigger reason to walk out on a wedding.”
She shook her head vehemently. “No, he picked the caterer.”
He pulled to the side of the road because he couldn’t focus on the road and a conversation that seemed important. She fingered the sleeve of the jean jacket and her gaze slid to the window.
“He picked the caterer,” she said with meaning. “Not the chicken or the beef—the caterer. He picked her. Over me.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose, closed her eyes and breathed. The tears disappeared but they’d left streaks down her cheeks. They’d left marks, the way this wedding would leave marks, he knew with certainty.
Another reason he was single and planned to stay that way. People had a tendency to hurt one another. His dad had hurt everyone in his path. His mom had walked out on her own children.
He shifted and pulled back onto the road, trying to find the right thing to say. A few minutes later he drove into Dan Wilson’s driveway.
“I’m sorry,” he told her, knowing his apology wasn’t the one that mattered. She’d been left at the altar by the man she had planned to spend her life with. He could tell her hard lessons about being let down by people who should have cared, but she didn’t need to hear it from him.
He’d let down people, too. He’d let down his siblings. He’d let down his best friend. He guessed he’d let down himself a few times, too. That made him the last person who could really help the woman sitting next to him in the dim light of his truck. He reached to turn down the radio and told himself it didn’t mean a thing. This moment would pass, like so many moments in his life. For these few minutes, though, maybe he could be her hero, the person she could count on.
“He was a fool. If he picked the caterer, he didn’t deserve you.” He parked next to Dan’s old farm truck.
She leaned across the truck in a rustle of white satin and lace and kissed his cheek. “Thank you. I don’t even know your name, but thank you.”
He held out his hand. “Alex Palermo, at your service.”
She took his hand and again he was surprised by the way it felt, as if he should cherish the moment a little longer. “Marissa Walker.”
The rain was steady now and the light of early evening had given way to darkness. She peered through the windshield and frowned. “Is that my grandfather’s home?”
Alex glanced away from the bride sitting next to him and nodded as he looked at the little camper, hay bales stacked underneath to keep out the winter wind. “That’s Dan’s place.”
“He lives in a camper?”
“For as long as I’ve known him. He’s always been ornery and he’s always lived in this camper. Don’t let it fool you. He’s one of the best horse trainers in the country and he raises some mighty fine Angus cattle.”
A gunshot split the night, ending the conversation. The woman sitting next to him screamed. “He’s shooting at us!”
“Nah,” he said with a grin. “He’s just warning us to get off his land.”
* * *
Marissa couldn’t help it; she cowered in the seat, close to the cowboy. He was a stranger, but at the moment he was the only thing she had to hold on to. The day was catching up with her. She’d been awake since sunrise, because it was her wedding day and there’d been so much to get done. And then she’d stood in the dressing room of the wedding venue waiting for Aidan. And waiting. Until he sent the text that he was on his way to Hawaii. With Linda, the caterer. Unable to face her family and friends, she’d taken off with the limousine, leaving her mom a note that she needed time.
The limousine had broken down and the driver had told her he was done. The tow truck would take him back to the city and she was on her own unless she wanted to go to Austin.
And now this. Her grandfather was a madman with a gun.
The cowboy sitting next to her rolled down his window and leaned out. “Dan, stop shooting. You’re a little shaky these days and you might accidentally shoot someone.”
“Is that you, Alex?”
“Yeah, it’s me. And you don’t usually shoot at me when I pull up.”
“Cattle thieves have hauled off three of my best heifers, Alex. I ain’t taking no chances.”
“Yeah, but I’m your neighbor, not a cattle thief. And I’ve got your granddaughter in the truck with me. This isn’t the best way to introduce yourself.”
That was her cue. Marissa got out and walked tentatively through the dark and the mud to the front of the truck, where headlights illuminated the trailer and the man standing on the rickety porch. She glanced around, looking for the cowboy, and he was there, joining her. He grinned and winked and she felt as if he was her lifeline for the time being. A stranger with dark flashing eyes, dimpled cheeks and a flirty smile. A black cowboy hat covered his head but she thought she saw dark curls peek out from beneath.
His hand touched her back, between her shoulder blades, giving her strength to move forward.
“I’m Marissa. I’m your granddaughter.”
Her grandfather leaned against the porch as a fit of coughing hit. She wanted to tell him they’d be better off inside, but she wasn’t sure yet that it was true. Or even that he’d let her inside. Her grandmother had walked out on him, taking his only child, Marissa’s mom. He probably wasn’t going to feel too charitable to his only grandchild.
“I thought you were getting married today,” he said, surprising her. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to meet you.” She couldn’t very well tell him that she was twenty-six and she’d basically run away from home. That she’d run from a wedding that would have been the social embarrassment of the decade.
“You wanted to meet me?” He barked out a harsh laugh. “On your wedding day? Where’s your groom?”
“Hawaii.”
“Shouldn’t you be with him?” he asked, his voice softening a bit.
“I would have been if he hadn’t left with the caterer.”
He sighed. “That’s too bad. But that doesn’t explain why you’re here.”
She bit down on her lip, unsure of what she should say. “I need a place to stay.”
“I’m sure you have a home and parents to go to.”
“Dan, it’s just for a night,” Alex Palermo said with a confident tone as he winked at Marissa.
She hadn’t said a thing about it being for just one night.
Dan’s hand was on the doorknob of the camper. “I don’t have an extra bed. And I don’t think a princess like her, in a dress that cost more than this camper, is going to want to stay here.”
“I do want to stay.” She took a few cautious steps forward.
“You don’t have to,” Alex said out of the corner of his mouth. “We can find somewhere else for you to stay.”
“Didn’t you hear the girl, Alex? She’s my granddaughter. She’s welcome to sleep on the couch. Tonight.” Her grandfather started to take a step inside but he wobbled a bit.
Alex hurried up the steps and steadied the older man. Marissa watched, unsure.
“Dan, are you okay?” Alex asked.
“I’m fine.” Marissa’s grandfather shook loose from the hand that steadied him. “A little light-headed from this cold. Get on in out of the rain, girl.”
“You’re sure about this?” Alex asked again.
“I’m sure,” she answered. Nervous or not, she was staying.
“Nobody’s asking if I’m sure,” her grandfather grumbled but he pushed the door open and motioned her inside. “Go on, Alex. We’re fine. You can come by tomorrow and check on her.”
Alex gave her one last look and left, walking down the rickety steps and across the muddy yard to his truck. She watched him go and then she stepped inside the camper and the door closed them in.
She heard the truck start, and her last chance to escape was driving off into the rain-soaked night, leaving her with a less-than-welcoming stranger. She peeked out the window, saw brake lights on the truck and smiled, because, unlike her groom, he wasn’t leaving without a second thought. And it felt good to know that a stranger, someone who didn’t have to care, did.