Stop The Wedding!. Lori Wilde
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nonsense?”
“In this case, yes.”
“You’re getting yourself worked up over nothing.”
“It’s not nothing. Each detour is taking me farther away from my sister.”
“I don’t think distance is the only obstacle between you and your sister.”
“No?”
“The crux of the problem could be your sanctimonious attitude. Believe it or not, Boone, you don’t have all the answers.”
“Yeah? Well, you ignore the damn questions. You stick your head in the sand, pretending the world is a good place.”
“The world is a good place.”
“Wearing rose-colored glasses doesn’t change reality.”
“What would you have me do?” she exclaimed. “Sit on my porch and glare at everyone for the mess the world is in? Dwelling on problems and difficulties doesn’t make the world a better place. Bitching and griping doesn’t improve things. My positive outlook might not feed a starving child in the Congo, but it damn well makes my world a better place to live in. I light up people’s lives, that’s more than you can claim, Toliver.” She stared straight ahead, hands gripping the wheel, her chin quivering slightly.
Friggin’ hell, he’d hurt her feelings. Okay. He was a jerk. He admitted it. Why had he taken his anger out on her? She was an innocent bystander and he’d lashed out at the nearest person.
Well, what did she expect? He’d tried to warn her off. He was damaged. Couldn’t she see how messed up he was? Why did she try so hard to salvage him? He didn’t deserve her attempts. Why had he bitten her head off? He hadn’t wanted to hurt her. In fact, he’d wanted to do the exact opposite. Pull her into his arms. Kiss her until neither one of them could stop. He was a control freak know-it-all whose world had been knocked topsy-turvy. He was a lost cause and he resented her trying to save him.
“Sitting there spouting happy-happy, joy-joy mantras isn’t going to get us to Miami any faster,” he mumbled, ashamed but not knowing how to back down.
Tara jerked her head in his direction, flames flashing in her eyes. “You want out of this traffic jam?”
“Yes. Yes, I do.”
“Fine.” Tara set her determined little chin and whipped the steering wheel hard to the left. The Honda hopped onto the grass median, the U-Haul creaking and groaning behind them.
“What are you doing?”
“Making everything right in Boone’s dark world.” She jammed her foot down hard on the accelerator.
The Honda rocketed forward.
Boone grabbed the grip strap, clenched it in his fist. “You’re gonna get the cops after us. You’re gonna bust an axle. You’re gonna—”
“If you can’t say something productive, shut up!” Tara yelled, struggling to control the car.
Shocked, Boone clamped his mouth shut. They bounced and jostled over the uneven terrain. Cars honked at them. Tara’s gaze was fixed straight ahead. He had visions of the U-Haul getting stuck in the median, but miraculously, she traversed it and joined the flow of traffic headed in the opposite direction.
She changed lanes, easing over and taking the next exit.
He started to ask where she was going, but decided against it. He was afraid of what she might do next. She was quicksilver, unpredictable, and damn if that didn’t excite him.
At the intersection, which in Nowhere, Nebraska, consisted of nothing more than a two-way stop sign, she went back the direction they’d been traveling, but instead of merging onto the freeway, she took off down a one-lane dirt road that ran through the cornfields. She sped along, dust billowing out behind them.
“Happy now?” She glared.
“Tara—”
She raised a palm. “I don’t want to hear about it, Boone. You got what you wanted. We’re no longer stuck in traffic and we’re headed south to Miami.”
“Tara—”
“No, I’m not going to listen. I know what you’re going to say. I’m an airhead, a flake. It was a very stupid thing, jumping the median. I probably broke a dozen laws. I’m sure I screwed up something on the U-Haul and that’ll cost money, but you are on your way. You got what you wanted. So be happy. I don’t want to hear whatever criticism you’ve got loaded up for me.”
“Tara,” he insisted softly.
She heaved a big sigh and for the first time since she broke ranks from the traffic jam, she switched her attention to meet his eyes. “What? Just what the hell is it, Boone?”
“I’m sorry.”
Wednesday, July 1, 6:55 p.m.
WELL, BOONE’S APOLOGY was unexpected. She hadn’t known the man was capable of remorse.
“And thank you,” he added.
She eyed him suspiciously. He didn’t look like he was being sarcastic. Still, he had the power to crush her to dust with his biting commentary, so she didn’t trust his earnest tone.
“I was acting like a tool.”
“Yes, you were. A right contentious hammer. Bam, bam, bamming me flat as an innocent nail.”
“I could blame it on my military training, but I won’t.”
“Contrite and taking responsibility? I guess this means I have to forgive you,” she answered, softening already.
She was so easy. She had every right to stay mad at him, but the truth was she hated hanging on to resentment. It was so much easier to forgive than pout.
“You’re right,” he conceded. “I do have control issues.”
She fake-gasped. “Shocker.”
His lips pulled straight back in a wry smile. “The army psychologist said it was because my mother abandoned me, but I don’t believe in that blame-it-all-on-your-mother mumbo-jumbo. Fact is, I can sometimes be hard to handle when things don’t go my way.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“I’m working on it. Forgive me?”
Hey, if he had the guts to admit when he was wrong, she had the grace to accept. “Water under the bridge.”
They were traveling deeper and deeper into endless cornfields and they hadn’t passed one single vehicle in the past fifteen minutes they’d been on the one-lane road. The sun was slipping toward the horizon. She suppressed the urge to turn around and go back the way they’d come. Only road construction waited for them back there. This was her bluff to snap Boone out of his grumpiness and she was stuck with it.
Hell, she wished she could turn the car over to him. Give the man the control he longed for. Sit back, relax and not have to worry about the trailer she was hauling behind her. But that was out of the question.
“How’s the knee?” she asked.
“You don’t have to keep asking about it. You’re not my mother or my nursemaid.”
“Don’t get all defensive. I’m asking because I feel guilty for bouncing you all over the interstate.”
“I’ll live.” He shifted in his seat.
She sneaked another quick glance at him. He looked amused and that surprised her. “What is it?”
“You