a black tuxedo and pleated white shirt, Colt sized Shelley up. “She’s never going to forgive me.”
For good reason, Shelley mused, remembering the hurt and humiliation she had suffered as if it were yesterday. She whirled toward Colt so quickly the seamstress stabbed her with a pin. But the pain in her ribs was nothing compared to the pain in her heart. She lifted up her skirt, revealing her favorite pair of cranberry-red cowgirl boots, and stomped down off the pedestal, not stopping until they were toe-to-toe. “You stood me up on prom night, you big galoot!”
Lips thinning, the big, strapping lawman rocked forward on the toes of his boots. “I got there.”
Yes, he certainly had, Shelley thought, staring at the enticing contours of his broad muscular chest. And even that had been the stuff of Laramie, Texas legend. The town had talked about it for weeks and weeks. “Two hours late. Unshowered. Unshaven.” Shelley threw up her hands in exasperation. “No flowers. No tuxedo...”
Because if he had looked then the way he looked now... Well, who knew what would have happened? Certainly they would have followed through on their secret, incredibly romantic plans. Instead, she’d spent the evening alone, crying her eyes out into her pillow, the gorgeous dress and silky lingerie she’d spent weeks picking out crumpled beneath her.
Colt stepped nearer, inundating her with the smell of soap and cologne and the intoxicatingly familiar essence that was him. “I told you where I’d been,” he reminded quietly.
That night, and many days after.
Shelley glared up at him, crushed all over again. “With Buddy.”
Colt stood, legs braced apart, hands on his waist. To her fury, he was no more apologetic now than he had been then. “He needed me, Shelley.”
I needed you.
“Right,” Shelley retorted with a cool indifference that belied the emotion churning inside her. “So you said, Colt. Many times.”
When was she going to get over this? Over him? Shelley had thought she was. Until the moment they came face-to-face again. Then, it was as if no time at all had passed. As if they were still as deeply in love as she’d once dreamed them to be.
But maybe it would be best if she did just forget it all and move on. Otherwise, her heart would remain broken forever. At least when it came to her sexy former boyfriend...
Colt shoved a hand through his short, dark brown hair, and turned back to the wedding planner. “This isn’t going to work.”
Patricia stepped between them. “The heck it isn’t. Kendall and Gerry chose the two of you to be maid of honor and best man, so you’re both going to suck it up and get along until the nuptials are over. Got it? The bride and groom have been through enough.”
That was certainly true. Like Colt, Gerry had grown up wanting to help others. Gerry had become a navy medic and saved many lives, until he’d been injured in an accident on an aircraft carrier and spent the past six months recuperating in a series of military hospitals. Now, finally, he was well enough to return to active duty. After all they’d been through together, it had been the happiest day of both their lives when he’d asked Kendall to marry him. But a long engagement was not in the cards for them because they only had thirty days to pack up, marry and honeymoon before they headed for his next assignment in San Diego.
Hence, their wedding was being put together with lightning speed, with preparations starting before the two lovebirds even hit town.
“This isn’t about you.” Patricia guided Shelley back up on the pedestal, so the seamstress could continue the fitting. “It’s about making the bride and groom happy. Now, I know you haven’t been back in town all that long, Shelley—”
“Four days, six hours and twenty-two minutes,” Colt interrupted in a bored tone, “if anyone is counting.”
Shelley looked at him, not surprised he had been clocking the time, much as she had. It had been hard as heck, trying to steer clear of him during the move-in process, but she had. Until now, anyway.
He shrugged, obviously relishing the fact he could still get under her skin. “Laramie’s not that big.” He flexed his shoulders restlessly, then narrowed his midnight-blue eyes. “I figured we would run into each other eventually.”
Another silence fell. This one even more telling.
Once more, Patricia stepped between them. “This is what we’re going to do. We’re going to get both of you fitted for your wedding finery, and then the two of you are going to go out somewhere.” She lifted a hand to cut off their heated protests. “I don’t care where. And you’re going to sit down together and broker some sort of truce so that none of your past angst taints the upcoming wedding in any way.”
Shelley knew the wedding planner was right. She had returned to Laramie to inhabit the house where she had grown up. Colt was living just down the street in a house he had bought. In a county of ten thousand people, Shelley knew there was no way they’d be able to avoid each other indefinitely. Maybe it was time she and Colt acted like the grown-ups they were now instead of the love struck teenagers they had once been, and buried the hatchet for good.
From the look of consternation that crossed Colt’s face, she could tell that the handsome bachelor seemed similarly chastened.
Fifteen minutes later, their chores as attendants done, they walked out of the Lockhart Bridal Salon on Main Street. Just after six, the sun was sinking slowly toward the horizon in the bright blue Texas sky. The unseasonably cool June day had the temperature in the low eighties. There was very low humidity and a nice breeze. “So where do you want to go?” Colt asked Shelley.
With the clock running and her cash dwindling, there was little choice about that. “My place,” she said.
Colt reacted as if she had just invited him over to see her etchings. Shelley put an end to that notion with an unsentimental glance. Their days of even thinking about hooking up were over. “I’ve got to go home,” she said flatly. She had responsibilities to tend.
Colt lifted a brow and warned, “You should know...I’ve got Buddy with me.”
She stopped as they reached his blue Ford pickup truck. All four windows of the extended cab were down. A beautiful brown, white and black Bernese mountain dog was sitting in the front seat. These days, there was more white on the canine’s face than either brown or black. “I can see that.” Shelley stared at the dog that had inadvertently crushed her dreams and been Colt’s constant companion for the past twelve-plus years. The big fluffy-haired pet was still as friendly and alert as ever.
And he still brought a flood of resentment to her heart.
Buddy looked at Shelley as if he remembered her. And her attitude. Yet he still wanted to be her friend. She pushed her guilt away. That dog, and the nonstop chaos he had caused, was just as responsible for her breakup with Colt as Colt was. She had to remember that. The look on his face, the one that always set her heart to racing, said he surely did.
“I can take him home first,” he offered.
That, Shelley knew, would just delay the inevitable, because Colt and Buddy were practically inseparable— and she might as well come to terms with that. “No,” she replied with a resigned sigh. “Bring him.”
“You’re
