Lightning Strikes

“That’s her problem,” Melissa said in her haughtiest tone. “Just because she’s without manners doesn’t mean my daughter has to be.”

Noah curbed his temper. “God, Mother, you’re a piece of work.”

Before she could make a suitable comeback, Noah got up and made his way back up the aisle, conscious of the stares and the smiles thrown his way. He forced himself to be civil.

The makeshift foyer was still deserted. He mouthed an expletive.

That curse, however, was drowned out by another loud clap of thunder, while rain, mingled with hail, sounded like gunshots assaulting the building. Suddenly, the lights outside the candlelit hall went dark.

Another curse left his mouth just as Patsy rounded the corner. For a moment, she stood still, illuminated against the darkness by candlelight, while her eyes scanned the premises with the intensity of radar. Once they landed on him, she dashed toward him, grabbed him around the neck and jerked his head down to her mouth.

“Hey, what—”

“Just listen,” she said tersely.

Moments later, Noah lifted his head and sucked in a harsh breath. Finally, he responded in a low, dead tone, “Thanks, I’ll take care of it.”

Leaving Patsy chewing on her bottom lip and wringing her hands, Noah strode back down the aisle and stopped briefly to speak to his mother, who, with the palm of her hand, smothered a cry.

He then moved to the front of the chapel.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please, may I have your attention.”

While waiting for the chatter to cease, he cut his eyes to his mother, who looked like she’d been kicked in the teeth. She had been, and for once he actually felt sorry for her.

Then, realizing every eye in the room was on him, he cleared his throat and spoke in a clear, steady tone. “I’m sorry, but there’s not going to be a wedding. The bride’s disappeared!”

Chapter Two

She was going to get run over.

That was a fact. The only question was who was going to hit her.

But then, what did she expect when she was standing in the middle of the highway? Cold rain slapped Randi’s face so hard it actually stung like tiny switches. Her top teeth were digging into her lower lip so hard it was bleeding, which kept her from speaking. That wasn’t a problem, however, as she had no one to speak to.

She was alone.

Another sob expanded the knot in her throat at the exact moment she saw the headlights of an oncoming vehicle slicing through the darkness of the rain. Thank God! Someone was brave enough to be out in this godawful weather. But, she cautioned herself between shivers, excited was the last thing she should feel. Only crazies would be on the road on a night like this.

Still, she was thankful another human was in sight, even though a childhood warning jumped to the forefront of her mind: don’t get into a car with strangers. In today’s climate, that warning carried even more weight. But she was not a child, and she had no choice.

Desperation drove her. And fear. And the cold. She couldn’t remember ever being chilled down to the bone the way she was now. The rain, suddenly turning more violent, more than stung. It pierced her skin like sharp icicles.

Without further thought, Randi lifted the front of her long dress and ran toward the vehicle. Despite the fact that it was an eighteen-wheeler, she stepped in front of its headlights and waved one hand frantically over her head.

At first she didn’t think the truck was going to stop. Later, she realized the driver had to swerve to keep from hitting her. Then, a few yards beyond her, the driver slammed on the brakes, but he didn’t stop. His tires spun for the longest time on a highway that was slicker than polished glass.

Once the truck screeched to a halt, Randi, with her dress still hiked, dashed to the door, trying to ignore the fear that hammered inside her. Again, what if whoever was behind that wheel was a rapist? Or worse?

For a second she paused, then, throwing caution to the horrible weather, she reached for the door handle. At the same time, a man leaned over and thrust it open.

“Get in before you drown!”

Though it was difficult in the cumbersome wedding dress, Randi scrambled inside the warm cab. She didn’t know how long she sat there, unable to do anything but shake. Her chest felt as though it was going to burst, and her breath came in short, gasping spurts. Finally, she leaned her head back against the seat and fought off a round of dizziness.

“Sumbitch, lady, you ain’t gonna pass out on me, are you?”

Randi heard the driver’s hoarse voice, edged with an accent she identified as Southern. She also felt his eyes on her, yet she was powerless to respond.

Somehow, though, she had to get a grip. She couldn’t indulge herself any longer. Time was critical. However, she owed him an explanation, and he probably wouldn’t budge until she gave him one. But she had to get the hell out of Grand Springs.

Now.

“Lady, you mind tellin’ me what the hell’s going on?”

“Please, can you just drive?” Randi pleaded through teeth that were banging against one another. She didn’t know whether fear or the bone-numbing cold was the main culprit. But it didn’t matter. Again, all that was important was moving on down the road. How could she make this cowboy understand that?

With the thought uppermost in her mind, she whipped her head around and stared at him. A mean flash of lightning chose that moment to rip across the sky, allowing her to see his features. He was a burly man in his fifties, a cowboy with a hat, jeans and boots. And a wad of tobacco lodged between his lower lip and gums.

Yuck.

Randi twisted her head back around, but not before she saw him reach for the coffee can beside him on the seat and spit into it. A stream of brown juice hit the can with a pinging sound.

Double yuck.

Her stomach rebelled, and for a minute she thought she would be sick. Breathe deeply, Randi told herself, thinking she should be grateful that someone had come along and, without running over her, picked her up.

While she might not chew tobacco, she wouldn’t win any beauty contest, not by a long shot. Even without a mirror, she’d bet her last dollar she resembled someone out of a horror movie. Her hair was hanging in strings around her cheeks. Her face was devoid of makeup, the combined tears and rain having washed it off. And her once-lovely white gown was splattered with mud, making it a candidate for the garbage.

And her shoes—well, they were soggy boats that would barely stay on.

Still, she was safe. Or was she?

“Please, will you just drive, mister.” Her voice continued down its shaky path, although the warmth in the truck had made a dent into her bones, easing the pain there.

“Hell, I was thinking of pulling over until this mess stopped.”

“You can’t do that!” Panic underlined her every word.

Apparently he picked up on that. His tone softened when he said, “Even an old dumb Texas cowboy knows trouble when he sees it. And you’re in trouble, right?”

She would have laughed if the situation wasn’t so serious. Her, in trouble? Of course she was in trouble, she wanted to shout. Even this Texas road warrior couldn’t be in the habit of picking up strange, bedraggled women dressed in mud-soaked wedding gowns.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked, giving her a quick, sharp look before cutting his eyes back on the road.

“No! Yes! I mean, I just want you to drive.”

“By the way, my name’s Alton Evers.”