Blind-Date Bride

That was the plan, anyway. She cut between a pickup and an SUV and froze at the empty parking spot. Where had her car gone? This was the correct place, right? She turned around, scanning the small lot, already knowing the truth in her gut. Someone had stolen her car. She shivered deep inside.

It’s just a car, she told herself. No one was hurt. She was safe.

Then why was adrenaline crackling through her? She trembled, fighting the pull of fear. The past was right there—the trauma she hadn’t completely dealt with—and she wasn’t going to let it pull her down. There wasn’t a gunman holding a semi-automatic to her temple. There wasn’t anyone critically hurt and crying out with terror echoing in her memory. She gave thanks that this wasn’t the same at all.

“Do you always hang out in parking lots?” a familiar baritone rumbled behind her.

She whipped around, relieved to see Max standing in the golden slant of light. He appeared trustworthy standing there with his hands on his hips, emphasizing the dependable line of his shoulders. He looked like someone she could trust. “I left my car here, but I guess it took off without me.”

“You mean someone stole it?”

“Incredibly. I can’t imagine anyone would want it.” While she was grateful for a working car, the fourteen-year-old Chevy had seen better days. “I know I locked it. I’m compulsive about that sort of thing.”

“Locks won’t stop a car thief.” Max pulled his cell phone out of his jacket pocket and flipped it open. “I’ll get a uniform over here to take your statement.”

“The police?” Brianna gulped in air, fighting to keep calm. They would come with their flashing lights and their badges. It would remind her of that night. She shivered.

This wasn’t the same thing, she told herself. This was a case of a missing car, nothing more. It didn’t mean her foundation had to be rattled. It didn’t mean she had to be catapulted back in time.

“Brianna?” Max’s voice came as if from far away. “Hey, are you all right?”

“F-fine.” Any minute now he was probably going to think she was loony tunes. A real nut bar. Shame crashed through her like a cold wave. “I’m just a little shocked.”

“No, this is more than shock.” His palm curved over her shoulder, his grip strong and comforting. “You’re shaking. Come with me.”

His grip remained, holding her emotions steady as she put one foot in front of the other. She thought of all the ways this evening was different from the one her mind would not let go of. She carefully catalogued them. It was nearly sunset now and bold colors stained the sky. She was outside, breathing in the crisp evening breeze instead of the heated, food-scented air in the kitchen of the restaurant where she’d been working last summer. So much was different right now, but that didn’t seem to matter to her brain.

The images came anyway, flashes of chaos and agony and panic. She blinked away the pictures of violence and blood and concentrated on the pavement solid beneath her shoes, the traffic whipping by on the nearby street and the gleaming neon sign from the dry cleaner in the next building over.

Tonight was not the same, she thought as Max guided her down the row of parked cars. Her foundation hadn’t crumbled. She didn’t have to flash back to that terror-filled kitchen. The ground felt more solid beneath her feet with every step she took. Her shoes tapped on the blacktop and she concentrated on the straight broad line of Max’s back and his reassuring presence a half a step ahead of her. The past faded, she felt whole again. Thank heavens there had been no full-fledged panic attack.

Cool wind fanned her hot face. She waited while he opened the passenger door to a shiny white truck. It felt nice standing beside him. He towered over her, and for all his strength he felt kind, not intimidating. His grip on her elbow was firm and caring all at once as he helped her onto the comfy leather seat.

“Better?” He shrugged out of his coat.

She nodded. “And here you’re thinking, she looked so normal sitting in the bakery.”

“What you’re going through is normal.” He leaned close, bringing with him the scents of coffee and cake and the masculine pine scent of his aftershave. His breath was warm against her neck as he draped his coat over her shoulders.

The garment’s weight hugged her and its heat soothed. Bree studied the man in front of her, the man she knew nothing about other than the blind date disaster story. “Normal? You mean lots of people shake like this after finding their cars missing?”

“Sure, but I was referring to the aftereffects of the robbery.” His rugged voice softened, and the unmistakable gentleness she heard made her heart suspend beating.

“You know about what happened?” She shook harder. There were the images again, piercing like sharpened blades into her thoughts, cutting through the present and making her remember. The ear-spitting thunder of gunfire, the rapid pop-pop-pop and the echoes resounding against the tile walls of the kitchen. The crash to the floor of a tub of dishes as Juanita dropped, falling like a rag doll.

Don’t remember. She closed her eyes, drew in cold fresh air and thought of the passage from her morning’s devotional. Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you. The words calmed her. She let go of the images too painful to face.

“I’m a detective with the city police department,” he explained, his hand gently settling on hers. His touch calmed her. “I was on the backdoor burglar case. I was assigned halfway through the investigation.”

“You’re a cop.” When she opened her eyes, she saw understanding on his handsome, rugged face and more sympathy than she could accept. “I never would have guessed it.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Up close, his eyes were the truest blue she had ever seen. The tight grip in her stomach eased, the one that had been there since that fateful night when her world changed. For the first time in a long while she felt her muscles relax.

She looked at Max as if she’d never seen him before. In the shadowy light he looked surreal, more dream than flesh and blood. His essence shone through, with a noble heart and trustworthy goodness even she could believe in. “If you’re a detective, then you must see a lot of the bad stuff. The dark side of humanity.”

“I have.” His hand on hers felt like a lifeline. “Sometimes, now and then, I see the bright side, too.”

His smile made it seem as if he thought she was one of those bright sides. Warmth filled her until the cold, bad pieces lodged in her memories faded and she felt like the girl she used to be, full of wishes for the future without shadows. She breathed in the sweet evening air, made sweeter for the scent of his aftershave, and savored the sun on her face. It was good to be herself again before tragedy changed who she was.

She managed a carefree smile. “Mister, you are trying to charm the wrong woman.”

“Hey, I’m not trying to charm you.” He was pure innocence with a dash of trouble crooking his grin.

“You’re just naturally charming?” she joked, but she was serious, too. “Thanks for coming to my rescue, but you should return to waiting for your date. I’m fine. I can take it from here.”

“I’m sure you can, but the truth is my date isn’t coming.”

“She’s not?”

“I’ve been officially stood up.” He shrugged casually, as if it were no big deal. “She called my cell a few minutes ago. That’s why I’m on my way home.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No biggie. I get rejected a lot.” He winked.

“Me, too.” It felt okay to confess it and even better that they had this in common. “Dating is hard. That’s what no one tells you.”

“And it doesn’t seem to get easier. I try not to take it personally.”

“How can you not?” That’s exactly what she wanted to know. Her entire identity didn’t revolve around getting married. No, that wasn’t it at all. She had been evaluating her life lately, and she realized there was a lot that she wanted but didn’t have. Closeness, connection, her own family, security. She had a heart full of love to give. Why not try to find love and change her life for the better?

She tugged his coat more closely around her, glad the shivering was easing. “When a date doesn’t want to see you again, even if you don’t like them, it feels personal.”

“Tonight is the perfect example. Alice sounded nice enough, but she didn’t want to know me. That would take more than a thirty-second conversation. She rejected me because of what she wanted. She has no idea who I really am.”

No, but I have an idea. Bree looked down at his capable hand covering hers. Her heart gave a little flutter. He was a nice guy. Who wouldn’t be looking for that? “Next you’re going to say Billy ditched meeting me because of his own shortcomings.”

“That’s right. Everyone has them. It’s part of being human. I say it’s best to accept your own, that makes it a lot easier to accept other people’s.” His smile was part dream, part impossibility. “Now, tell me the truth. Are you feeling better?”

“Much.” The quaking deep inside had calmed. The past was safely where it belonged and the memories buried. She withdrew her hand reluctantly from his and hopped to the ground. “I’m over the shock of seeing my car gone.”

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m getting out of your truck so you can go on your way.”

“If you think I’m going to leave you standing in the parking lot by yourself, you’re wrong.” He closed the door and leaned against it. “There’s a cruiser on its way. They’ll take your statement, you’ll sign the report and that’s it.”

“Nothing scary about that. I’ll be fine.” She smiled shakily. “Great. Now you think I’m emotionally challenged.”

“No, I don’t like to leave a lady by herself when it’s getting dark.”

“My sister is five yards away. I’m not by myself.” She set her chin. She was fragile, but strong.

At least that was his guess. She would have to be, to come back from the trauma she had. He had seen others who had gone through similar experiences and they had never found themselves again. He ached for them and likely for what lovely Brianna had gone through. The specifics were sketchy in his mind, since he’d gone on to other cases, but he remembered the string of burglaries that had grown more violent with each occurrence until three victims had been left dead and two others gravely injured. Violence happened, even in Montana.

“I’ll stick around.” He couldn’t stop the pull of concern in his chest. “I want to make sure you have moral support if you need it.”

“Thanks, but I don’t want to be a burden. I’ve got my sister, if I need her.”

He remembered. The waitress who had served his dessert had been a duplicate of Brianna. Twins. He studied the woman standing in front of him, framed by the rosy light of the setting sun. The cinch of emotion in his chest tugged harder. Odd, since she was all wrong for him. Way too wrong for a broken-down soul like him.

“Besides,” she was saying in a gentle alto, “you don’t want to hang around waiting for me to talk to the police. I’m sure a guy like you has a lot more exciting things to do.”

“Sure. That’s me. Excitement.” Not. He got enough of that on the job. His pager buzzed, vibrating in his jeans pocket. He tugged it out not surprised to see that it was work calling. There was no rest for the weary and never for a detective. He would call in a little bit. He fastened his gaze on the woman with the wind scattering her long hair and with shadows on her face. First things first. He wasn’t going to leave until—

A short burst of a siren shot out, and he looked up. It sure looked like trouble coming. Dobbs and Paulson, two buddies of his, pulled into the lot in an unmarked cruiser. He held up a hand, signaling them over.

“The cavalry has arrived.” He wanted to stay, but she was no damsel in distress. She stood on her own feet, looking determined and only a little shaky.

The cruiser pulled to a stop and the window zipped down, revealing Dobbs and his know-it-all grin. Max shook his head. He knew what his good buddy was thinking, so he spoke first. “This is Brianna. Her car turned up missing.”

The door swung open. “Is that so? Well, Brianna, let’s take a report and see what we can do. We’ve had a lot of this kind of thing lately.”

Max watched Brianna nod shyly at the officers. Her chin was set, but she was pale. She was struggling, but she didn’t want it to show, that was his guess. She looked achingly vulnerable as she wrapped her arms around her middle and went to answer Dobbs’s questions. He’d pulled his clipboard out of the car and was taking information. Max wasn’t surprised to learn she worked at the bakery, since she was sugar and sweetness.

Remembering his page, he called in. Standing in the crisp March wind as the sun slid ever downward, he shivered. Maybe it was the damp air, or maybe it was something else. Something he didn’t want to think about too hard. The call connected, the line rang and he waited, unable to rip his attention away from Brianna. The wind ruffled the rich light gold of her hair, gently tossing it against her silken face. With the light shimmering over her in the last long moments before the sun vanished, she looked like a fairy-tale princess, something too good to be real and impossible to believe in.

A voice came on the line—Fredericks. There was a shooting at the far end of town. Probably drug related. He pocketed the phone, conflicted. He had to leave. He didn’t want to. Wasn’t that always the way? The job came first. He liked what he did, and he had never found himself hesitating on answering a call. He had work, but what was he doing? Strolling toward the woman who took the pen Dobbs had offered her and signed her name with a flourish on the bottom of the clipboard.

He jammed his hands into his pockets and closed the short distance between them. “Do you need a ride, Brianna? I’d be happy to take you home.”

Out of the corner of his eye he caught Dobbs’s wide grin and a wink as he backed away to the cruiser. Apparently both uniforms were taking interest in the interaction. Great. Just what he needed, more ribbing from a bunch of married guys.

“I’ll have my sister take me home. She gets off in a little while.” She padded toward him, moving like poetry with the last of the day’s light pearling her perfect face.

He didn’t like that this was ending. He couldn’t begin to explain why. He took a step toward her, just one step, that was all. Maybe it was best that he held his ground. “I guess this is goodbye.”

“Yes.” She shrugged out of his jacket with graceful movements and handed him the garment. “Here’s hoping we both have better luck on our next blind dates.”

“Sure.” It was all he could think to say. Max Decker, the man who had a comeback for any occasion, stood speechless as she cast him one last look. Her gaze met his like a bolt of electricity and it jarred through his system, leaving him rooted to the spot.

Amazing. He watched as she glided away, unaware of what she’d done to him with one single glance. His heart had stopped beating. The blood stalled in his veins. He struggled for air as she walked away with her gentle, easy gait, her sleek straight hair brushing her shoulder blades with each step.

Why was he captivated? Was it sympathy for her or something more? She opened the door without looking back. He watched her sister look up and spot the patrol car, and dismay crossed her face. The sisters hugged, and from half a parking lot away, Max turned, tangled up with too many emotions to name.

“Was that your date?” Paulson had retreated to the driver’s side of the car and was leaning on the edge of the roof, grinning knowingly. “She’s real pretty. Too bad it had to end like that.”

Max shook his head, but he didn’t need to say a word. Dobbs was already answering.

“She wasn’t Alice. It was my idea to set him up with Alice. So, what gives?”

“The same old thing. The lady wasn’t looking to be a cop’s wife.” Who could blame her? He didn’t. “I gotta go. Got a shooting across town. You jokers try not to get into trouble out there tonight.”

“You know us. We’re nothing but trouble.” Dobbs winked, but there was no smile in his eyes. Their work was like that. They could kid around all they wanted, what they did was serious. “See ya, Decker.”

Max nodded once, waiting until the cruiser had rolled before he took one last look at the bakery. Brianna was at a table toward the back, and all he could see of her was the cascading length of her blond hair and the curve of her back. Emotion tugged within him and he closed it down.

Time to go. He yanked open his truck door, realizing his coat was fisted in one hand. Brianna. He smelled her soft, sweet perfume on the garment, something gentle and innocent. Tenderness swept over him, tenderness he didn’t want to feel.

Chapter Three

“Are you sure you’re okay, Bree?”

“Fine.” Sweat streaked down her spine, but other than that she was perfectly okay.

As she waited for her sister to take one look around the bakery’s kitchen and make sure everything was in order and all appliances turned off, she reminded herself of how this night was different.

The moon was big and round, casting plenty of light to chase away the shadows around the back door. They weren’t alone—all the other workers were waiting outside the door in the comforting glare of the security lights. It was March, not a hot summer night. Most of all, there was no gunman, no ricochet of bullets firing and no terror. She breathed in the fresh air, let the peace of the evening roll over her and faith reassure her.

“Then let’s roll.” Brandi gave the door a tug.

Glad to be leaving, Bree stepped into the back lot. There were goodbyes as the other two workers broke apart, heading off to their nearby cars. Everything was fine. There would be a day when she didn’t worry so much, or feel as if the other shoe was about to drop.

“So that hunky guy is a detective, huh?” Brandi asked with just a tad too much of a smile.

Oh, she so knew what her twin was up to. She was trying to distract her from the memories. Really. “Don’t start jumping to conclusions.”

“Why not? He and that gorgeous woman he talked with never did wind up at the same table together. I happened to notice.” Brandi grinned as she sorted through her keys to unlock the passenger door of her battered little pickup. The poor thing had seen much better days ten years ago. “He could like you.”

“You are a meddler, sister dear.”

“I know.” Cheerfully, she opened the door and circled around to the driver’s side. “He seemed awfully nice. Manly, you know, as in solid, strong, mature.”

“Oh, I know.” Did she! She could still feel the weight of his leather coat on her shoulders, warm from him and faintly pine scented. Nice. “He wasn’t interested in me.”

“How can you tell?”

“Uh, he didn’t ask for my last name or my number.” Not that she’d expected him to. She dropped onto the seat, slid her bag on the floor and banged the door shut. “This is the last time I’m going on a blind date.”

“Be careful. You’ve said those words before.” Brandi turned over the ignition and gave the truck gas, hoping the engine would catch. It rolled over and over. “Blind dates aren’t so bad.”

“How can you say that? They’re terrible. Look at tonight. Disaster.”

“Sure, but it could have been worse.”

“How, exactly?”

“Uh, the building could have caught fire?” The engine finally caught and roughly idled. Brandi twisted in her seat to back out of the spot with a squeak of brakes and a whine from the transmission. “At least you met a nice guy. Okay, so he didn’t want to date you, but at least you know nice guys are out there.”

“As rare as hen’s teeth, but they exist.” Bree frowned, remembering how Max had made her feel. Small and dainty and utterly feminine, and incredibly, wonderfully safe. That was exactly how the right man ought to affect her.

Now, she simply had to find the right man for her. No easy task. “I mean it, I’m done with blind dates. Notice how you don’t go on any?”

“Sure, because I’m not looking for Mr. Right. Believe me, I’m in no hurry to find out he doesn’t exist.”

Yikes, that was exactly what she was afraid of down deep. Beneath her optimistic thinking and her stubborn faith, that in the end, there would be no Mr. Right and no happiness. She sighed, pushing away the dark shadows from her childhood. “Although a girl has to have hope.”

“Yes, and you keep holding on to it,” her sister agreed. “And I will try to somehow. Despite my totally pessimistic attitude.”

“Hey, careful. That’s an attitude I’m trying not to catch.”

“Which is why I’m keeping my opinions to myself.”

Bree grinned. She could always count on her sister to be supportive, even if she didn’t agree. Their family was broken and scattered, and she had half brothers and half sisters she hadn’t seen in years. Mom had never been exactly what you could call reliable, and Dad, well, he’d been in and out of prison most of her life. Not exactly model parents or the kind a girl could ever depend on, which made her sister a double blessing.

The lights of Bozeman flashed by as they drove along in companionable silence. Despite the theft of her car and her no-show date, the evening didn’t feel like a loss. She smiled, snuggled safely into the car’s bucket seat, thinking about Max. Not that she would ever see him again—what were the chances?—but it didn’t hurt to hold the memory of meeting him close, like her own little handful of a dream.

The headlights spotlighted their rented duplex, and the truck squeaked to a stop on the concrete driveway. As they pulled into the carport, reality set in. They were home. Tonight she had a lot to be thankful for—that the only thing taken from her was her car. Tomorrow there would be the insurance agent to call and transportation to figure out.

But as she opened the car door, she thought of Max and how he had offered her his coat. Memories of his kindness warmed her as she followed her sister inside, where the heater clicked on and she felt safe.

It was well past midnight, and he still couldn’t get the young woman out of his mind. Max hit the garage door button, sorting through his keys while the door cranked shut. He unlocked his door, thinking of how she had looked standing alone in the light of sunset with his coat too big on her delicate frame.

Bree was an image of goodness and loveliness he wanted to believe in. But could he? He didn’t like to admit it, but he’d lost his ability to believe in people. He was struggling to believe in a lot of things. The lock tumbled, he opened the door and stalked into his kitchen.

A single light over the sink shone, casting an amber glow across the marble countertops. Looked like his kid brother, whom he was raising, had done the dishes and cleaned up. Good kid. Marcus was in bed asleep, and the place felt empty.

The town house was something he’d picked up because it beat paying rent. He’d been here nine months and had yet to feel as if he’d come home. Maybe it was because he’d learned that nothing was permanent. He knew from on-the-job training that life could change in a blink; he didn’t count on much lasting these days. He took one day at a time.

He pulled a can out of the refrigerator and popped the top. The lemony ice tea ran down his throat like comfort. He’d worked hard tonight. It felt good to mosey over into the living room, put his boots up on the coffee table and sit in the dark.

He was too wound up from his work to go up to bed; he wasn’t in the mood for TV. He took another long swig of tea and tried to blot out the ugliness of the night. He couldn’t forget the broken-down excuse for a house near the railroad tracks, children’s chunky plastic toys scattered around the filthy floor where a gun had been discharged. He couldn’t forget the father who was too high to realize where his toddler had wandered off to. They had found him playing on the tracks. It was a blessing no trains had ambled through. Social Services had been called, and now he would have another file of heartache on his desk.