Chapter Two

      Something heavy stretched out on Marissa’s legs. She tried to move and it growled long and low. She froze, peeking up at the bloodhound that stretched across her. The movement brought another soft noise from the animal—it wasn’t quite threatening, but was more of a warning growl. She looked up at the ceiling as another wave of something that felt like grief washed over her.

      Today she should have woken up in Hawaii. She should be Mrs. Aidan Dean. Instead she was on her grandfather’s couch somewhere outside Bluebonnet Springs, Texas. Sometime in the night she’d decided she would never again play the fool. She would be stronger. More independent. She wouldn’t back down or give up. Aidan had hurt her badly. But he hadn’t broken her.

      At least her grandfather had given her a place to stay the night. Last night, after Alex Palermo had left, they’d eaten bologna sandwiches in silence as he watched a game show. After the show ended he’d declared it bedtime. He’d tossed her a quilt and a pillow before he headed to his room. At the door he’d warned her about Bub, without telling her who Bub might be.

      She guessed that Bub was the dog stretched out next to her.

      “Get down,” she insisted. Bub just sprawled a little more and rested his head on her belly. “No, really, I don’t like dogs. Go,” she muttered, moving her legs. Bub growled again but nestled in closer.

      She closed her eyes to regroup and must have dozed off again. A rooster crowed, something banged loudly against the roof and she jumped. Bub rolled off the sofa. He landed with a thud, shook his entire body and stared at her with meaningful contempt in his sad eyes. Marissa ignored him as she got to her feet and looked around.

      In the light of day, the camper was small and cluttered. Magazines were stacked on tables. The kitchen was just a tiny corner with a minifridge and stove, a single sink and a few cabinets. A mirror hung on a closet door. She took a cautious peek at the woman in the reflection. The woman looking back at her had long hair that hung in a tangled knot. The wedding dress, a monstrous creation with too many sequins and ruffles, was wrinkled and stained. She didn’t know herself. Maybe once, a long time ago, she’d known what she wanted. She might have had her own dreams. But over the years she’d lost sight of the dreamer, the achiever, and she’d fought hard to become the person her parents wanted her to be. She’d lost herself.

      When she left the wedding venue and headed for Bluebonnet Springs yesterday, that might have been an awakening. A rediscovery of the girl she’d left behind.

      Looking back, she realized nothing about this wedding had been her choice, her style. The wedding venue, the dress, the flowers and the cake had all been picked by her mother. Guilt had robbed her of the ability to speak up for herself. She was her mother’s only child. This would have been her mom’s only wedding to plan. And on every last thing, Marissa had conceded to her mother’s desires.

      Because of guilt.

      Looking at her hair, she realized that she’d been giving up pieces of herself for a very long time. And now, because of Aidan, it was time to start taking back some of her independence.

      She headed for the kitchen and rummaged through drawers until she found what she was looking for. She pulled out the clips and pins from her hair, then grabbed it up, leaned forward and cut it with scissors she’d found in a junk drawer.

      The sound of scissors slicing through hair brought her back to reality. She looked at the long chunk of hair in her hand and straightened to look in the mirror at the ghastly sight.

      “What have I done?”

      Next to her the dog whined. She glanced down at the beast stretched out at her feet. He looked up at her with soulful eyes and six inches of drool hanging from his mouth.

      “Did I really do that?” she asked him. In answer he put his head on his paws and closed his eyes. Of course he didn’t have an opinion. She returned her attention to the rather uneven layers of hair.

      She snipped away the longer pieces, shortening her hair by another two inches. She looked in the mirror and winced. Her hair was now just above her shoulders. It wasn’t the best cut in the world but it felt good to be rid of the weight. She brushed it out with her fingers and then tossed the long locks she’d cut in the trash and dropped the scissors back in the drawer.

      Now to find her grandfather. She opened the front door and was greeted by a sunny December day. There was a hint of chill in the air and the smell of wet earth. And no sign of Dan. She stepped back inside, leaving the door open a crack.

      The camper wasn’t big, maybe thirty feet in length. She walked to the hallway and peered into the empty bathroom.

      “Dan? Are you here?” She took another cautious step. “Dan?”

      And then she heard the coughing, the same as the previous evening, almost as if he couldn’t catch his breath. She knocked on the closed bedroom door.

      “Dan? Are you okay?”

      The coughing fit lasted a few more seconds. “I’m fine. Can’t you leave a man in peace?”

      “Not if he sounds like he might need help,” she said through the closed door. “Do you need help?”

      “No, I don’t need help. Not unless you plan to feed livestock for me.” Through the thin door she heard a raspy chuckle.

      “Okay. I think I can do that.”

      “You don’t know a cow from a bull.” He began coughing again.

      “Do you need a doctor?”

      “Call your folks and tell them to come get you,” he said at the end of the spell, his breathing sounding off, even through the door.

      “I texted them yesterday but my phone didn’t charge last night.”

      “Deliver me from nosy relatives and do-gooders,” he grumbled. But she thought he sounded pleased. Or maybe she wanted him to be pleased.

      “You rest. I’ll figure out the difference between a cow and a bull.”

      “Don’t get too close to that bull or you’ll be on the business end of his horns. City gals. Land sakes, they drive a man nuts.”

      “I’ll yell if I need help.” She looked down at the wedding dress. She guessed it wouldn’t do any good to ask for clothes.

      As she headed out the front door and down the steps, careful to avoid loose boards, something red and winged came flying at her. She jumped off the porch and ran but it kept up the chase. The dog began barking and joined the fray. Chickens scattered, squawking in protest.

      The crazy thing jumped at her, claws ripping at her dress, and a vicious beak tried to grab hold. She headed for the beat-up old truck parked to the side of the driveway, and when the doors wouldn’t open, she climbed in the back, the dress tangling around her legs. She fell in a heap of white, but then she scrambled to her feet, grabbing a rake that had been left in the bed of the truck.

      A truck eased down the drive and stopped a dozen feet from where she stood. Through the window, even with the glare of early morning sun, she could see the cowboy from the previous evening. His wide grin was unmistakable.

      The rooster must have known she’d been distracted. He flew at her again. She was ready this time and gave him a good smack with the rake. He made a stupid chicken noise as he fell to the ground, squawking and fluttering his wings.

      Alex Palermo got out