Stop The Wedding!: Night Driving / Smooth Sailing / Crash Landing

“Marriage isn’t something to take lightly. It’s not a lark. It’s a commitment. You shouldn’t go into it thinking it’s going to be all pancakes and morning sex, because it’s not.”

“I spy something red and very close.”

“Divorce is painful and costly.”

“I spy—”

“I’m not playing the dumb game! It’s for children,” Boone roared, louder and more harshly than he’d intended. He wasn’t mad at Tara. He wasn’t even mad at Jackie. He was mad at himself. For not being there for his sister. For getting injured. For not taking care of himself properly and having to have more surgeries. For losing control. That’s what angered him most. How he’d lost control over his own life.

“Why not?” she asked calmly. “You’re acting like a big baby. You don’t get your way and you pitch a fit. I told you it’s not a good idea to travel when Mercury is in retrograde.”

“And you’re acting like a total fruitcake.” Boone snorted. “Mercury in retrograde. What a load of horse manure.”

“Horse manure, huh? What about the bread truck accident we narrowly missed? And now a big construction holdup. Mercury. Retrograde. It’s a thing. Look it up.”

“It’s coincidence. It’s got nothing to do with planetary misalignment. That’s nonsensical thinking.”

“And you’re the last word on what’s nonsense?”

“In this case, yes.”

“You’re getting yourself worked up over nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. Each detour is taking me farther away from my sister.”

“I don’t think distance is the only obstacle between you and your sister.”

“No?”

“The crux of the problem could be your sanctimonious attitude. Believe it or not, Boone, you don’t have all the answers.”

“Yeah? Well, you ignore the damn questions. You stick your head in the sand, pretending the world is a good place.”

“The world is a good place.”

“Wearing rose-colored glasses doesn’t change reality.”

“What would you have me do?” she exclaimed. “Sit on my porch and glare at everyone for the mess the world is in? Dwelling on problems and difficulties doesn’t make the world a better place. Bitching and griping doesn’t improve things. My positive outlook might not feed a starving child in the Congo, but it damn well makes my world a better place to live in. I light up people’s lives, that’s more than you can claim, Toliver.” She stared straight ahead, hands gripping the wheel, her chin quivering slightly.

Friggin’ hell, he’d hurt her feelings. Okay. He was a jerk. He admitted it. Why had he taken his anger out on her? She was an innocent bystander and he’d lashed out at the nearest person.

Well, what did she expect? He’d tried to warn her off. He was damaged. Couldn’t she see how messed up he was? Why did she try so hard to salvage him? He didn’t deserve her attempts. Why had he bitten her head off? He hadn’t wanted to hurt her. In fact, he’d wanted to do the exact opposite. Pull her into his arms. Kiss her until neither one of them could stop. He was a control freak know-it-all whose world had been knocked topsy-turvy. He was a lost cause and he resented her trying to save him.

“Sitting there spouting happy-happy, joy-joy mantras isn’t going to get us to Miami any faster,” he mumbled, ashamed but not knowing how to back down.

Tara jerked her head in his direction, flames flashing in her eyes. “You want out of this traffic jam?”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

“Fine.” Tara set her determined little chin and whipped the steering wheel hard to the left. The Honda hopped onto the grass median, the U-Haul creaking and groaning behind them.

“What are you doing?”

“Making everything right in Boone’s dark world.” She jammed her foot down hard on the accelerator.

The Honda rocketed forward.

Boone grabbed the grip strap, clenched it in his fist. “You’re gonna get the cops after us. You’re gonna bust an axle. You’re gonna—”

“If you can’t say something productive, shut up!” Tara yelled, struggling to control the car.

Shocked, Boone clamped his mouth shut. They bounced and jostled over the uneven terrain. Cars honked at them. Tara’s gaze was fixed straight ahead. He had visions of the U-Haul getting stuck in the median, but miraculously, she traversed it and joined the flow of traffic headed in the opposite direction.

She changed lanes, easing over and taking the next exit.

He started to ask where she was going, but decided against it. He was afraid of what she might do next. She was quicksilver, unpredictable, and damn if that didn’t excite him.

At the intersection, which in Nowhere, Nebraska, consisted of nothing more than a two-way stop sign, she went back the direction they’d been traveling, but instead of merging onto the freeway, she took off down a one-lane dirt road that ran through the cornfields. She sped along, dust billowing out behind them.

“Happy now?” She glared.

“Tara—”

She raised a palm. “I don’t want to hear about it, Boone. You got what you wanted. We’re no longer stuck in traffic and we’re headed south to Miami.”

“Tara—”

“No, I’m not going to listen. I know what you’re going to say. I’m an airhead, a flake. It was a very stupid thing, jumping the median. I probably broke a dozen laws. I’m sure I screwed up something on the U-Haul and that’ll cost money, but you are on your way. You got what you wanted. So be happy. I don’t want to hear whatever criticism you’ve got loaded up for me.”

“Tara,” he insisted softly.

She heaved a big sigh and for the first time since she broke ranks from the traffic jam, she switched her attention to meet his eyes. “What? Just what the hell is it, Boone?”

“I’m sorry.”

5 (#ulink_67803275-24d9-5796-ae7f-8e185d05e678)

Wednesday, July 1, 6:55 p.m.

WELL, BOONE’S APOLOGY was unexpected. She hadn’t known the man was capable of remorse.

“And thank you,” he added.

She eyed him suspiciously. He didn’t look like he was being sarcastic. Still, he had the power to crush her to dust with his biting commentary, so she didn’t trust his earnest tone.

“I was acting like a tool.”

“Yes, you were. A right contentious hammer. Bam, bam, bamming me flat as an innocent nail.”