child sent ice water through her veins. They’d kept her a virtual prisoner until today. Seeing the Trans Am outside the church window and knowing she had a set of keys? She’d climbed out that window and run.
Zoe huffed out a breath when she recognized the classic black T-Bird with its lone male driver rolling her way. She started to raise her hand, but something stopped her from flagging him down. When it came to men, her instincts were on the fritz.
She kicked the car again, her massive ball-gown skirt gathered up in her arms to give her boot easy access to the metal. Dad-blasted piece of junk. Bad enough she’d had to drive it after Redmond’s incarceration but the idea that she’d take it to go on her honeymoon with his blockheaded brother...
Good grief but Norbert was a moron. And his mother? That woman terrified her. Etta Smithee would be the mother-in-law from hell. The old bag should be run over by a reindeer. Or better yet, a Mack truck! Why the Smithees thought she would willingly marry Norbert just because he was Redmond’s brother and Redmond was the father—
Someone cleared his throat and Zoe jumped. She whirled to face the stranger she’d passed on the road. Oh, good lord, why was she being so sorely tested? This man was...gorgeous. He was tall—towering at least a foot over her. His dark hair was short, cropped almost like a soldier’s but had way more style. He looked perfect, unlike the Smithee brothers and cousins. Who would be on her trail all too soon. She refocused her attention on the intruder. He had eyes the color of cornflowers, which were crinkled in amusement. And his mouth. She could kiss that mouth for days and never need to come up for air. In other words, he was trouble in spades as he stood there in those tight blue jeans that hugged him like a jealous lover.
“Having a little car trouble?”
“Ya think?” She snapped at him and didn’t know what to do when he grinned. She clutched the layers of material closer to her body, like her wedding dress would protect her from his sexiness.
“I’m a man. We’re masters of the understatement.” He eyed the beast, his expression dubious. “Need a lift?”
“I’m fine.”
“Uh-huh. Sugar, I think you blew the engine. This bird isn’t going to fly anytime in the near future.” He gave her the once-over and she felt—actually felt—his gaze touch her. She shivered inside. Guydar. On the fritz, she reminded herself sternly. She realized how she’d hitched the ball-gown skirt of the wedding dress up around her middle, which bared her legs.
The dude cleared his throat. “So, sugar, want me to call a tow truck for your car?”
“No.” Technically, it wasn’t her car. Red had left her the keys, told her to drive it. She didn’t give a flip if it sat here on the edge of the road from now until the day after the end of the world. A thought hit her. Leaving it might slow down her pursuers. Before she could ponder that further, her would-be rescuer spoke again.
“Look, this is the back of beyond. Let me at least give you a lift to the next town.”
“I’m not goin’ to the next town. I’m headed to Nashville.”
“Fancy that. So am I. I’ll take you.”
And that was the whole problem. She wanted him to take her. He was still looking her up and down, interest sparking in those too-blue-to-be-safe eyes of his, and dang if she wasn’t checking him out in return and hoping for a caveman. Ugh. What was wrong with her?
“All the way to Nashville?” That would give her a big head start on the Smithees. Red was in prison down in Alabama. Norbert was his mother’s son and the Smithee cousins all followed Etta’s orders.
“All the way.” He held up his phone, and his brows creased in a cute way that made her want to kiss his forehead. Whoa, girl, she chided herself. This whole Handsome Man Syndrome was what had landed her in this mess to begin with. “Huh. No bars. I’ll call a wrecker when we hit civilization.”
Zoe leaned in through the door and grabbed her duffel bag and guitar case. Everything she owned fit in both. “Fine. Let’s go.” She marched past him, skirts still bunched around her middle, and got jerked to a stop when he snagged her bag.
“I’ll put these in the trunk. The T-Bird doesn’t have a back seat.”
While the man deposited all her worldly goods into the minuscule trunk, she stomped to the passenger side door and snorted when she saw her veil crumpled there. Bad karma. Definitely. Zoe stuffed the ugly thing onto the dashboard and did her best to maneuver into the seat.
“May I help?”
She startled and banged her shin on the car door. Dang but the man was sneaky. She’d need to remember that fact. “No, I’m good. Thanks kindly.”
He stood back, arms folded across a chest that filled out his crisp button-down shirt as well as his butt did those jeans. He’d rolled the sleeves up to reveal tan forearms sprinkled with dark hair that glinted copper under the sun.
With much huffing and puffing, she squirmed her way into the tight fit. Between the hideous excuse for a wedding dress and everything else, she’d need a forklift to get her out of the darn thing.
She reached for the door to close it, but the guy beat her to it. He stuffed the trailing edges of her dress in around her and managed to shut the car door without catching any part of her skirt. “I’d tell you to buckle up, but that dress is a built-in airbag.”
“Ha ha, funny,” she groused, pushing part of the tulle and netting down and tucking it around her legs. First gas station they came to, she was ditching this virginal white travesty and getting comfortable. With effort, she fought to stretch the seat belt over the material and got it fastened.
Moments later, he was settled behind the wheel. “I’m Tucker,” he said, holding out his hand.
“Zoe.” She eyed his hand while weighing the risk of touching him. Her palm all but itched to feel his skin. She gave in to temptation and they shook. His palm was warm and dry. But those were not little tingles racing up her arm. Nope. Definitely not.
“Should I ask where the groom is?” He gave her a sideways glance as he started the T-Bird. And didn’t that sweet engine purr pretty? He pulled out onto the rural highway.
“Nope. Let’s just say our nuptials weren’t meant to be.” She grabbed the veil and tossed it over her head. She watched it through the side mirror and laughed when it draped across the firebird graphic on the hood of the Trans Am.
He cut his eyes her direction for a moment. “Cold feet?”
“Good sense.” She flashed what she hoped was a reassuring smile in his direction.
“Okay.” He dragged the syllables out.
She smoothed down her dress even more, grimacing at the miles of material. “You wouldn’t happen to have some scissors? Or maybe a knife or something sharp?” The man—Tucker—glanced her way again so she explained, fluffing up the copious amount of material in her lap. “I want to cut some of the superfluous crap off this thing.”
“No, sorry. Nothing that would work on that dress.”
Zoe wanted to explain she hadn’t picked out the dress, like this guy would care
