Stop The Wedding!. Lori Wilde
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out long and lonesome.
Funny, she’d never noticed how empty the state was when she’d made the drive up from Florida fourteen months ago following Chet, more for fun and adventure than true love. Her friends raved about falling in love, finding that special someone, but Tara had never been that lucky. She’d liked lots of guys, sure, and had plenty of friends, but she’d never had that special connection with a guy.
Sometimes, she wondered if there was something wrong with her, some secret inability to experience love the way others did. Her mother told her it was simply because she just hadn’t met the right man yet. The guy who would make her happy to give up her independence and settle down.
Tara sneaked a glance over at Boone and her heart did this strange little tightening thing. She was grateful for Boone’s company, even though he was trying mighty hard to pretend he was asleep.
The plan he’d given her—the control freak—detailed driving to Billings tonight, catching a few hours of sleep in a truck-stop motel and then hitting the road again at dawn. He’d programmed all their stops into his GPS and given her an estimated time frame for how long each stop should take. He’d made no allowances for detours. He was methodical and prepared. It drove Tara bonkers. How in the world could you truly experience life if you never strayed from the beaten path? If all your time was carefully plotted, where did spontaneity come in?
Boone had the passenger seat pushed back as far as it would go and he wore a Minnesota Twins baseball cap pulled down over his face. His breathing was slow and steady, but he had his arms crossed over his chest. Her gaze drifted down to his right leg encased in the metal brace. He had to be hurting from the day’s efforts, but she hadn’t seen him take a pain pill. He’d even refused the beer she’d offered him at her impromptu goodbye party.
Leaving Bozeman was more difficult than she’d thought it was going to be and it was all because of the man sitting beside her. She was excited about seeing her family again and happy that she wouldn’t be spending another winter in Montana, but for all his gruffness, she was really going to miss Boone.
Her cell phone rang. Who was calling her this late at night? She couldn’t see the caller ID in the dark, so she just answered it through the hands-free device that broadcast the conversation throughout the car. She tried to whisper so as not to disturb Boone. “Hello?”
“Tara? I can’t hear you,” said her older sister, Kate.
“I’m here.” She raised her voice and cast a glance over at Boone to see if she was bothering him.
“Why are you calling so late? Is something wrong?”
“I’m at the hospital with Mom. She came through the surgery with flying colors and most likely she’ll be released tomorrow.”
Tara breathed out a sigh of relief. “That’s good. I regret that I couldn’t be there for the surgery.”
“It’s okay,” Kate said. “You’re coming home now.”
“I’m sorry this is all falling on your shoulders.”
“It’s not. Everyone is pitching in. Joe and Matt are staying at the house with Dad. Erin and Dave are flying in tomorrow.”
“I’m still several days away.”
“No worries. You’ll be home to help drive her to chemo treatments once she recovers from the surgery. Really, the doctors say she’s got an excellent chance for a complete recovery.”
“Still, it’s scary to think of losing her.”
“I know,” Kate said softly. “She’s really happy you’re moving back home for good. We’ve all missed you.”
Guilt nibbled at Tara. Her mother had been her biggest cheerleader, always urging her to follow her dreams and her heart, but she couldn’t help feeling selfish that in her wanderlust, she’d left her family behind. While she loved adventure, Tara was a traditionalist at heart. Family meant a lot to her. It was time she went home.
“I’ll call in the morning,” Tara said.
“You be careful on the drive. Don’t rush. We’ve got everything covered here.”
More guilt. “’Night, Kate.”
“Good night, Tara.”
She cut off the call and peeped over at Boone again. Had he heard her conversation? The guilt turned into another feeling she couldn’t quite identity, a cross between regret and wistfulness. He hadn’t moved a muscle.
The car’s headlights cut a swath through the darkness, the single illumination on the silent highway. A shiver of loneliness passed through her and, for a second, she felt as if she were completely alone on the surface of the moon.
Up ahead, she could see the lights of Billings, and an impish part of her wanted to drive on through without stopping. Throw off his best-laid plans; prove to him there was nothing wrong with a little impulsiveness. She would have done it, too, except she had no idea how far away the next town was.
“Take the next exit,” Boone said.
Tara startled. “You’re not even looking at the road. How do you know the exit to Billings is coming up next?”
“I have an acute sense of time. At the speed you’re driving, we should be coming up to Billings.”
She shifted her gaze to the clock in the dash. He was right on the money. “Dude, that’s a freaky skill.”
He shrugged, didn’t bother to lift the cap off his face. There’d be no making end runs around this guy.
“Is the whole trip going to be like this?” she asked.
“Like what?”
“I’m only asking because if you’re going to be quiet as a corpse the whole way, I want to dig out my earphones before we hit the road in the morning so I can listen to some tunes.”
“You’re not supposed to wear earbuds while you’re driving.”
“Yeah? Well, it’s only common courtesy to have a conversation with the person who’s driving you to Miami. I mean it’s miles and miles of driving. If you can’t at least talk to me, then you’re forcing me to break the law.”
“You don’t have to wear earbuds. You can play whatever you want on the radio.”
“So, in other words, you’re not going to talk to me.”
He heaved a sigh, swept the cap from his face and sat up in the seat. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Nothing now. We’re almost to the truck stop.” She sailed up the exit ramp.
“Why don’t you talk,” he said. “Tell me something about yourself. Your hopes, your dreams, your secrets.”
“Now you’re making fun of me.”
“Hey, you’re the one who wanted to talk.”
“You’re impossible.” Peeved, Tara reached over and clicked on the radio. The Black Keys were singing “Howlin’ for You.” She turned up the volume. Loud.
Boone winced.
“Too loud?” She smiled sweetly.
“No.” He settled a hand on his knee.
“Is your knee hurting?” Contrite, she turned down the music.
“I don’t need your pity. Crank the damn music.” He reached over and turned the volume back up again.
“You’re a real sorehead, you know that?”
“I wasn’t always,” he mumbled.
She wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. She turned down the music. “What did you say?”
Silence settled over the car.
“I