Belonging to Bandera

But Bandera did make her feel better, she admitted. It was the way he kept watching her—until she’d catch him, then he’d look away quickly—that told her he found her attractive. For a woman who’d found a bra thrown atop the bananas in her kitchen, it was some comfort that the cowboy seemed interested.

Of course, he probably sold every woman the wheelbarrow full of horse manure he was pushing. “Where are we going?”

“If I remember, there’s a bike shop up in Sweet-briar, just thirty minutes from here. If not, Charley will know where we can take your Hog,” he said to Mike.

“Thank you,” Holly said. “For going out of your way.”

“My pleasure,” Bandera replied, his voice deep and sincere. Holly glanced back to the mirror, finding his gaze on her once again, and this time she didn’t turn away. After a heartbeat passed, she quickly broke eye contact and went back to staring at the countryside, unable to acknowledge—or reply to—the masculine promise in his voice.

The very thought of his pleasure made her skin tingle. Made her glow inside.

She had to be crazy. She had to be suffering from canceled-wedding fever to even be looking at another man. She should be crying; she should be devastated.

Bandera handed her a tissue over the seat, which she took, but Holly knew she wasn’t going to need it.

“How’s your adventure so far?” he asked.

She met his gaze. “Getting better all the time.”

A cell phone rang, and Mike answered it gruffly before handing it over the seat to her. “Want to talk to the groom? Last chance before we cross the county line.”

She took the phone reluctantly, aware that Bandera was watching her every move, his eyes dark and hooded.

He wasn’t even going to pretend not to be listening. Maybe he was more rat than gentleman, she decided. “Hi,” she said, her tone not happy nor encouraging.

“Where are you?” Chuck demanded. “We’re all in the church waiting on you!”

“Who is waiting?” She frowned, knowing that her side of the family all knew there was to be no wedding. Surely his family knew, too. How much room for misunderstanding was there in leaving your engagement ring behind?

“My whole family and all my friends!” Chuck said, his voice rising in anger. “My side of the church is full, your side is empty. There’s not one single soul there, and I’m beginning to think that’s very suspicious, considering we sent out two hundred and fifty invitations!”

She realized Mason could hear her ex’s terrified voice when he pulled his hat down low over his eyes. There was only a foot of space between them, and he was obviously uncomfortable. “There’s not going to be a wedding,” she said, “at least not where I’m the bride and you’re the groom.”

“What in the hell are you talking about?” Chuck demanded. “Everyone is here! Waiting on you!”

“The minister?”

“Well, no. I’m sure he’s around somewhere, though.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “Did you find the ring?”

“What ring?”

“The engagement ring you gave me. When you asked me to marry you and before you slept with my best friend.”

Sudden silence met that comment. Glancing Bandera’s way, she thought she saw a small grin hover around his lips.

“I did no such thing. I’m appalled you would even suggest it!” Chuck said, his tone self-righteous. “Is that why you’re not here? You’re standing me up in front of all my friends and family because of some stupid misunderstanding—”

“I was there,” Holly said quietly. “There was no misunderstanding. You’ll find the ring on the condom box.”

There was another silence. “Listen,” he finally said, no longer trying to mask his annoyance. “If you had ever slept with me, if you hadn’t been so intent on that no-sex-until-we’re-married crap, I wouldn’t have had to go someplace else to get what a man deserves!”

Everyone in the truck heard Chuck’s shout. Mason promptly cringed and Mike gave a deep sigh.

She wondered how deeply embarrassment could sink into her soul. Then Bandera pulled to the side of the road, stopped the truck and reached over the seat to gently take the phone from her hand. She could still hear Chuck raging as Bandera held the phone up over the seat.

“Let me show you how to put the past behind you,” he said kindly. “This is your past.” He closed the phone with a snap and handed it to Mike, who put it in his pocket. “See how easy that was?” Bandera asked Holly.

She blinked. “Just like that?”

He shrugged. “Over and out.”

She stared into his eyes, which were dark and warm and understanding. Something peaceful melted over her, soothing the dark, hurt places. “Thank you,” she said.

“Again, my pleasure.” He grinned. “Don’t ever let a man talk down to you like that. Now be a good girl and open that cooler your purse is resting on. Get Mike and Mason and yourself a beer, because you’ve all had a hard day.”

“Are you talking down to me?”

“No.” Bandera grinned. “I’m merely asking you to pass the boys a beer.”

“I’ll go for that,” Mason said. “Whew!” He fanned himself with his hat.

She looked at him askance. “What?”

Mason frowned. “Your fellow was a bit of a whiner, wasn’t he?”

A blush ran all over her as she remembered that everyone in the truck knew she hadn’t slept with her ex-fiancé—he’d certainly shouted his complaint loud enough. She handed Mason a beer, and then Mike, who snapped the top off and took a long swig.

“I was thinking about getting married once,” Mason said conversationally.

Holly thought she heard Bandera gasp. Her eyes met his in the mirror, but he quickly broke contact and stared straight ahead at the road. “Why didn’t you?” she asked Mason.

He scratched his head. “I never did figure that out exactly.”

“Oh?” Holly held the beer bottle between her hands, happy for the coldness to reduce the heat of her own mortification. She focused on Mason’s story. “Wasn’t the right time?”

“I suppose not.”

She looked at Bandera. “What about you? You have a sad story, too?”

“Hell, no,” he said. “My stories are all happy and they’re going to stay that way.”

“Really?” She leaned forward, her arms over the back of the seat, and looked at him thoughtfully. “Did you learn that from Confucius, too? The secret to eternal happiness?”

“No. I learned it from my family. Happiness was a survival skill.”

She glanced at Mason, who sat unmoving, the beer bottle hovering near his lips as he took in Bandera’s words. “That stinks,” he said suddenly. “I never thought about it before, but you’re right. Happiness was a survival skill, and I believe we all stunk at it.”