her hair off her face, swiping hard at one eye before glaring at him. “Sure, why not?”
Liam’s chest tightened at the tear she hadn’t managed to brush away. “How about I give you a lift? The sooner we get your foot looked at, the better you’ll feel.”
“A lift?” Her brows scrunched together over the top of her nose in a way that was so familiar, Liam could only stare. Before he could decide why, understanding dawned on her face. Her expression turned disbelieving. “You mean carry me?”
“If that would be all right with you.”
She hugged her bag to her chest and studied him again.
Damn, maybe that wasn’t such a good idea. More and more people were milling around the vendor tents. He’d already spotted a few giving the two of them some speculative looks. Gossip was a favorite pastime in Destiny, and the Murphy family always seemed to supply plenty of fodder, whether they wanted to or not.
The town was still buzzing over Liam’s brother Devlin taking off to London back in June with his newest lady love, a girl he’d only known a few months.
Then three weeks ago, both Liam and Nolan had participated in a bachelor auction to raise money for the town’s summer camp. The fact that Liam had gone for one of the highest bids to nearby Laramie’s pretty city attorney had actually ended up in the local newspaper. Good thing they hadn’t gotten wind of their date last week—which had been nice but spark-free—or else that would’ve made the headlines as well.
“Okay.” She shrugged with a feigned carelessness that reminded him again of his niece.
Liam smiled, forgetting about the crowd. There was so much going on at today’s events, he doubted anyone would even notice them during the short stroll to the first-aid tent. Seconds later, he had one arm beneath her knees and the other secured just beneath her shoulders.
Cradling her bag in her lap, she wrapped the other hand around his neck as he started walking. “Do I weigh a lot?” she asked.
Liam resisted the urge to roll his eyes. No matter the age, the female species never stopped asking loaded questions. “Of course not. I bet you don’t weigh a hundred pounds.”
“Forty-four kilos.”
He did the math in his head. “Ninety-seven pounds. See? I was right.”
“For a Yank you did that conversion pretty fast.”
She smiled and that punch to his gut returned. “Well, I’m a pretty smart guy.”
Ducking her head, she whispered, “I hope so.”
Having no idea what she meant by that, Liam covered the distance to the tent in a matter of minutes and once inside, placed the girl on an empty chair. It took one of the volunteers a few moments to tend to the blisters on her feet. Liam used that time to study her again, positive now that he knew her from someplace. But where? Could she be a friend of his niece’s or a daughter of one of the guys on his construction crew? With that accent?
“You’re staring at me.”
Liam blinked, realizing she was right. “Ah, sorry. You know, you never did say why you were looking for me.”
She tugged her boots back on, over a thick pair of socks this time, her gaze darting around the tent. Other than a few people at the far end, they were alone.
“Do I look familiar to you?” she finally asked. “At all?”
“You...” His voice trailed off. He had a feeling she wanted him to say yes. He almost did, but the truth was he had no idea who she was. “No, I’m sorry, you don’t.”
She heaved a dramatic sigh and then rooted around inside her duffel bag, digging out a cell phone. “Bloody thing is about out of juice, but maybe...” Her fingers flew over the screen, her thumb flipping through a long string of photos before she turned the phone to him.
“How about her?” she asked. “Does she look familiar?”
His breath disappeared. Every muscle in his body tensed and his knees automatically locked to keep him upright.
Stay back, stiff rein, set feet, squeeze and stay on.
Liam had created his own personal mantra back when he was a teenager, and he silently recited those words every time he climbed on the back of a horse.
A horse determined to buck him off and send him crashing to the dirt.
A lot of people thought saddle bronc riding was only about trying to hang on. It wasn’t. There were specific locations a rider’s feet needed to be from the moment the chute gate opened if one expected to last the required eight seconds to garner a score.
It was a perfectly choreographed dance of man working to remain synchronized with each twist and turn and jump the horse made. All while keeping his free hand from touching the animal or himself so he wasn’t disqualified.
Now, that same chant raced through his head as he stared at a picture of Missy Ellington, his very own heartbreak girl.
Missy had come over as an exchange student from London during his senior year of high school, and from the moment he’d first seen her, he’d fallen hard.
And she’d been just as smitten with him. They’d been inseparable until things ended badly the summer after graduation. A nasty fight over each other’s plans for their shared future. Plans they had never bothered to talk about, plans that had turned out to be vastly different. He’d said some stupid things and the next thing he knew, Missy had flown home to London.
He never saw or spoke to her again. He thought about her sometimes though. An old country song would come on the radio, or he’d catch a whiff of a peach-scented perfume or hear a woman speak in a British accent.
And back in the spring, when Devlin had made a crack about Liam’s dismal track record at marriage and how a long-ago girlfriend had been the love of his life, Liam had quickly corrected him, stating emphatically that he had no such love.
He’d been lying. She had been the love of his life, at least back then.
In the photograph, Missy looked much as she had the last time he’d seen her. Long blond hair, beautiful porcelain skin. Soft blue eyes. Only instead of smiling at the camera, her eyes were focused on the infant she held in her arms.
“That was taken fifteen years ago this past April.” The girl turned the phone back and looked at the image, that same smile—Missy’s smile—on her face. “I was only a couple of weeks old at the time.”
Fifteen years ago.
The months and years rushed through his head, the numbers making his brain go into a serious meltdown. The imaginary rein he’d been holding onto slipped from his grip, the wild beast beneath him disappeared and he was flying through the air.
“Missy...” he rasped, determined to push the words past the restricted confines of his dry throat. “Missy Ellington is your mother?”
“Abso-bloody-lutely.” The girl’s gaze was serious as she looked up at him again. “And you’re
