Wyoming Christmas Surprise

“Oh, one more thing, Allie,” Lila said at the door, with her trademark devilish grin. “Just promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?” Allie asked, eyebrow raised.

Lila put a hand over her heart. “Promise me. Us. Yourself—that you’re not going to change your name. You can’t be Allie Talley. You can’t rhyme.”

Merry let out a snort, then gave Lila a jab in the ribs.

Allie laughed. “Well, if I do change my name and become Allie Talley, at least it’ll make me laugh.”

Merry grabbed a giggling Lila out the door. Leaving Allie to stare at herself in the mirror, wondering what it was going to feel like to be Allie Talley, who that woman was. She had been Allie Stark for the past seven years—five as his wife, two as his widow. But life had a way of throwing monkey wrenches and curveballs and all sorts of shocks and surprises at people. You had to adapt, change the plan to fit the new now.

You’re the new you, a grief counselor had said at the bereavement group she’d attended for a few months. She hadn’t mentioned that to her sisters, that she herself was the “something new” for today; her reason for keeping it to herself had stolen her breath.

Because she’d give anything for her old imperfect life back, a second chance.

But she was “the new her,” so in twenty minutes she was marrying Elliot and becoming Allie Talley.

Allie Talley. She smiled, thinking of Lila, and a small laugh came out of her. She’d been about to make herself cry, but becoming the new her, becoming the rhyme of Allie Talley, had lightened the mood.

Badumpa.

Everything is going to be okay, she told herself. She picked up the locket from where it lay just under the V of her jacket and flicked open the latch. Tyler, Henry, Ethan, Olivia. Everything she did, she did for them.

But suddenly all she wanted to do was race out the door after her sisters.

* * *

I’m alive.

I’m not dead.

Scratch that—that’ll be obvious the second she sees you.

I had to fake my death.

I’ve been walking, talking, breathing, living on this earth all this time...

Sunglasses on, Stetson pulled down low, Theo Stark sat in a booth in the truck stop diner just outside the town limits of Wedlock Creek, waiting for a refill of his coffee and practicing in his head what he was going to say to Allie when he finally saw her again.

For the first time in almost two years.

On the drive up from southern Wyoming, he’d replayed what he’d say over and over. But the closer he got to Wedlock Creek, the more none of it sounded right. It was all the truth, of course, but when it came right down to it, his wife believed he was dead. And he wasn’t.

At first, he wouldn’t have to say anything. The fact that he was alive would be obvious.

God.

At just after one forty-five this morning, he’d gotten the call that had finally brought him back to life. The serial killer who’d turned Theo’s world upside down was now dead. The threat was gone.

And Theo could come out of the shadows.

Last year at this time, with the weeks counting down to the holidays, he’d wanted nothing more than to get that call so he could go home for Christmas. He’d been hiding out for months at that point, alive and well on a remote cattle ranch, when everyone believed he was dead. Living under a fake name, keeping to himself, earning just enough to get by and move on if necessary. But the months went on and on until, finally, the call he’d been waiting for had come. He was going home.

The waitress came over with the refill, and Theo ducked his head low, nodding a thank-you. He’d recognized the woman, who used to work in the coffee shop on Main Street. But he couldn’t risk anyone recognizing him and gasping. Since he was supposed to be dead, he figured anyone who did a double take would assume he was just a guy who looked a lot like the Wedlock Creek police sergeant who’d been killed in the line of duty. But he wasn’t taking any chances until he explained himself to Allie.

While the waitress poured, making small talk about the weather, he reached for the Wedlock Creek Chatter the previous customer had left on the table and pretended great interest in flipping through the free weekly newspaper. Anything to keep his head down and conversation to the bare minimum. The waitress left and he breathed a sigh of relief.

He was about to push the newspaper aside when a small boxed notice on the People in the News page caught his eye. His heart started to pound and he read the two-line notice again.

Then again.

Today was Thursday. And it was now, according to the clock on the wall, 11:40 am.

Theo threw a ten-dollar bill on the table, shot out of the booth and the diner, and jumped into his black pickup, a trail of dust in his wake as he sped toward town.

Toward Allie. His wife. About to marry another man.

No. No, no, no, no.

He had twenty minutes to stop her. He was fifteen minutes from the town hall. A five-year veteran of the Wedlock Creek Police Department, the former sergeant knew full well that a patrol car would be hidden in the alley just after East Elm Road; people loved to speed on the service road into the center of town. And though Theo wanted to floor the gas pedal, he couldn’t risk getting pulled over.

Because no one, except for one FBI agent and one US marshal, knew that he was alive, that he hadn’t been killed in an explosion during a stakeout gone terribly wrong.

He’d pay a visit to his captain later. The first person who deserved the truth about him was Allie. He’d explain and—

And what? he thought, gripping the steering wheel. She’d moved on. She was marrying someone else.

Maybe he should let her. Allie deserved love and happiness. She deserved a good life with whoever this Elliot Talley was. An accountant. Accountants didn’t risk their lives. They didn’t get shot at by bad guys. They didn’t almost get blown up in dark old supposedly abandoned buildings.

Or fake their deaths.

Thing was, regardless of all that, Allie was already married.

So he had a wedding to stop. That was all he knew for sure right now.

He pulled into a parking spot in the back lot at the town hall and rushed inside, taking the stairs two at a time. A gold plaque marked Ceremonies was on the door at the far end of the long hallway. Theo sucked in a breath and pulled open the door, ready to shout Stop the wedding! like an insane person, but there were two people standing in front of a podium behind the mayor of Wedlock Creek and neither of them was Allie.

They—and the mayor officiating—swiveled their heads toward the door, expressions annoyed at the intrusion.

“Sorry,” he said, ducking back out.

Phew. Or then again, maybe he was too late. Maybe they were ahead of schedule.

Next to the Ceremonies room was a door with another plaque: Bridal Preparation.

As Theo stood there, staring at the door, pushing his hat down even lower on his head as two people walked past, he realized Allie was in that Bridal Preparation room. He felt it. He felt her.

She was in there.