A Wedding in the Family. Susan Fox

sun struck her slight body like a speeding freight truck. The sun was so bright that she had to squint her eyes to see before they could adjust.

      The wall of heat that had slammed into her now beat down oppressively. Her nervous breath began to go shallow, but she made herself step forward and walk in the direction she’d last glimpsed the cowboy.

      He was no longer in sight, but she had little choice but to keep going. By the time she reached the far end of the parking lot, she was panting with frustration. She turned to scan the assortment of cars and pickups. She saw a few men with hats, but none with the battered black Stetson the cowboy had been wearing.

      She ended up walking all the way back to the doors of the terminal before her arms gave out and she had to set down the heavy suitcases. Her fingers were shaking so much from the worry that she’d been abandoned in the hot sun, that she nearly dropped the cases. She did drop her handbag, scattering its contents on the hot concrete. Her eyes were blurry with perspiration as she bent to gather her things from the ground.

      A wave of dizziness and nausea made her straighten and press trembling fingers to her forehead. She was an abysmal traveler, never more so than on this trying mission for her grandmother. The enormity of the task was impacting her in the awful heat, and this shameful bout of bad nerves was mortifying.

      She didn’t pay attention to the big pickup that had rumbled to a stop along the curb a few feet away as she struggled to relax.

      “What’s the matter? Are you sick?”

      That low, gravelly drawl coming from so close beside her made her jump. Resisting the urge to glance up at the cowboy to see if the reluctant concern she’d heard in his voice was in evidence on his rugged face, she turned away and crouched down to gather her things from the concrete.

      “No—I—dropped my bag,” she said hastily as she picked up her wallet and cosmetics and shoved them into her handbag. The dusty toes of the cowboy’s enormous boots intruded into the perimeter of her downcast vision. Appalled at his nearness, she stood up.

      She was about to step back to reassert the huge distance she intended to maintain between herself and this rude man, when he caught her small chin with calloused, blunt-nailed fingers that were too strong to fight. The unexpected touch sent a cascade of pleasurable tingles over her skin that made her forget her queasiness. Then, despite the inherent power he could have used to manhandle her, he gently forced her face up and her wide eyes made unwilling contact with the harsh blue intensity of his.

      “Your face is as white as new cotton panties.”

      The deliberately crude comparison he made between her face and new lingerie insulted her. Profoundly. She reached up and tried to push his big hand away, but it didn’t budge. She grabbed his thick wrist, but the carefully manicured ends of her fingers barely touched nail tips with her thumb as she wrenched his hand away and took an angry step back.

      “I thought the Parrish family raised cattle, Mr. Whomever-you-are,” she declared with stiff dignity. “I had no idea they raised swine.”

      Once she’d delivered an insult to him which she considered every bit as obnoxious as the one he’d delivered her, she regained her composure. She glanced down, brushing and smoothing at her blouse and slacks, as much for something to do with her shaking hands as to recover her neat appearance.

      To Rye, she gave every impression of a small exotic bird smoothing down her ruffled feathers. She already looked as neat and elegant as any other self-obsessed socialite. But to see those fine, delicate little hands fluttering around to tug and smooth over her pricey blouse and pants was almost as amusing as her priggish attempt to insult him. The sight was also powerfully arousing.

      “Rye Parrish.”

      The sudden offer of a name identified the uncouth cowboy as the owner of the monstrous Parrish Ranch. Lillian’s head snapped up and she gave an involuntary gasp.

      “You are Rye Parrish?”

      A humorless smile flitted over his hard mouth. “None other,” was his terse response.

      Lillian arched a brow, but said nothing. Instead, she turned from him to reach for her luggage. He got to it first, so she followed to the dusty pickup parked at the curb. She winced when he swung her cases over the side of the truck box, but he managed to set them down gently enough next to the rest of her things. The casual strength of his fit, muscled body impressed her despite her reluctance to admire anything about him. The hostility he’d shown earlier reasserted itself when he opened the passenger door of the big pickup and motioned her in with a mocking flourish of his wide hand.

      She hesitated a moment, then stepped onto the running board and climbed into the tall vehicle. The door closed smartly beside her the moment she sat on the seat. She got her safety belt on by the time he rounded the pickup and got behind the wheel.

      “Ever been to Texas?” His question sounded mild enough as he twisted the key and the truck engine roared to life.

      Lillian couldn’t help that her soft, “No, I haven’t,” was wary. Particularly when his expression relaxed and those blue eyes gave her an all-encompassing glance that took in her neatly combed and pressed appearance. She got the impression that her careful grooming was somehow a mark against her.

      He glanced away as if he’d suddenly lost interest, starting the pickup off to drive toward the paved road that led to the highway. Lillian eventually made herself relax, grateful for the truck’s air-conditioning as Rye turned onto the highway and accelerated.

      She managed to feel a bit more at ease and found a surprising amount of enjoyment in the vast expanse of range land they passed through. Widespread herds of cattle could be seen from time to time, but the oil pumping stations that were visible from the highway seemed to pepper the land with amazing regularity. The novelty of speeding down the long ribbon of highway and rarely meeting another vehicle was astonishing to someone accustomed to the heavy traffic snarls of New York. The huge panorama that surrounded them was breathtaking. The sky was as vividly blue as it was endless, and Lillian realized with some surprise that something about the sheer size of it all was as soothing to her as it was overwhelming.

      

      Rye watched Ms. Lillian Renard’s wide-eyed attention shift to take in every cow, oil well and change in the landscape. Twice they’d sped over the top of a shallow hill. He’d heard her soft intake of breath as they’d reached the crest. The first time, he’d thought she was alarmed by something. The second time she’d done it, he’d realized that her little gasp meant she was favorably impressed by the panoramic view of the countryside they saw briefly from their higher vantage point. He hadn’t expected her to be interested in anything Texas or the Parrish Ranch had to offer.

      He still didn’t want to take her to Parrish. Because she was here to look down that perfectly formed aristocratic nose at his baby brother and object to his honorable intentions toward her spoiled, hotheaded sister, he didn’t want her anywhere near his home.

      It wasn’t as if he thought her sister was good enough to marry his brother. She sure as hell wasn’t. Rachel—or Rocky, as she insisted everyone call her—was very nearly the last female on the planet he could stand having around, much less wanted to see marry into his family. It had about killed him to keep his objections to himself, but he had. For his brother’s sake, he’d smiled, laughed at Rocky’s off-color jokes and ignored her none-too-subtle come-ons to him. He was deathly afraid that any hint of an objection from him would make his headstrong brother more determined than ever to marry her.

      But now Rocky’s high-toned sister was about to stick her nose into the mess. Her interference had the small possibility of spoiling everything, and Rye couldn’t allow that. He didn’t want anyone to put the lovers on the defensive and prompt them to an act of defiance that might end in the elopement he dreaded.

      The hell of it was that his careful patience these past interminably long weeks was beginning to bear a few promising bits of fruit. As he’d hoped, Rocky and Chad were starting to appear less than enchanted with one another. Rocky, when she got worked up, had a mouth on her