Sweetheart Bride

Brenna reeled in her treacherous reaction, the scent of soap and spice all around her. “Thank you. I have to remember to unpack my winter clothes.”

“Do you need a ride?” he asked. Then he motioned to his car. Only she’d never seen a car like this one.

“What...what is that exactly?”

He grinned like a schoolboy. “That is a vintage 1969 GTO convertible with four-on-the-floor and a 400 horsepower engine with a turbo transmission.”

Brenna looked at the baby blue automobile, then back at him. “A muscle car? You drive a muscle car?”

He looked surprised. “You know about muscle cars?”

“I’ve heard my papa and Julien and his brother, Pierre, talking about them, usually when they’re watching a race on television. And now I’ve actually seen one.”

He took her by the arm. “Not only seen one, but get to ride in one.”

Brenna glanced around, then realized her father had left her! “I guess I do. I came with my daddy, but apparently both he and my sister forgot about me.” On purpose, no doubt.

“Not a problem,” he said, hurrying around to open the passenger-side door for her. “I would get lost without you.”

Did the man realize he had a way with words? Did he even know that the way he said things with that exquisite hint of an accent went right to a woman’s heart?

She could speak one thing and mean another, too. “I don’t want you to get lost.”

His dark eyes gleamed like midnight water. “Then let’s go.

“Top down?”

She nodded. She needed the cold wind to make her snap out of this massive crush.

With that, he got in and cranked the motor. The car purred like a great cat. Nick shifted gears and Brenna held on for dear life, her breath caught in the cool night air. This man with all his fancy things had first reminded her of Jeffrey. But Nick Santiago was nothing like her shallow, self-centered, very ex-fiancé. As Callie had said, he seemed to be the real thing.

At least he felt real, driving this powerful machine, his hands only inches away from her. Brenna tried to focus on breathing. He was too close, way too close.

“Where am I going?” he asked.

Brenna came out of the fog surrounding her mind. “Oh, take a left at the next traffic light. Our house is a few miles out of town, on the Big Fleur Bayou. When you see the sign for Blanchard’s Landing, you’re there.”

“What is chicken perlo?” he asked, grinning over at her.

“Well, it’s chicken and rice and spices and we serve it with corn bread and biscuits, all homemade. It’s usually cooked in a big iron pot.”

He hit a hand on the steering wheel. “The food down here is so good.”

Brenna couldn’t deny that. “But I’ve been to San Antonio. The food there is wonderful, too.”

“Yes, and my mom is a good cook.”

She wanted to know all about his family. “So you’re an only child?”

He slowed the car as they reached the sign she’d mentioned, then turned into the next driveway.

“Yes.” He parked the car in the long driveway leading to the white cottage and stared into the darkness. “I have been for a long time now. But I had a sister. She died when I was a teenager.”