Rancher to the Rescue. Jennifer Faye

daughter was pregnant by the boy-next-door—the same guy who’d dumped her and their baby at the altar.

      “But, Meghan, you have to—”

      “No, I don’t. Not this time. You and Katie are going to have to deal with her. I need some space to figure things out. Until I do, I won’t be of any help to anyone.”

      Ella huffed. “So when are you coming home?”

      She wanted to go to her apartment and hide away, but she wouldn’t have any peace there. And there was no way she was going to her mother’s house.

      “I don’t know. I have two weeks planned for the honeymoon so don’t expect to see me before then. I’m sorry, Ella. I’ve got to go.”

      There was nothing left to say—or more like nothing she was willing to say at this point. She knew Ella was worried and frustrated, but her sister was smart and had a good head on her shoulders. She’d figure out how to manage their mother.

      As Meghan disconnected the call her concern over her family was replaced by nagging doubts about the cowboy returning for her. She glanced down at the new-looking phone with a photo of a horse on the display. Surely he wouldn’t toss aside his phone with his photos and numbers inside?

      He’d be back…

      But then again she’d put her faith in Harold and look where that had gotten her. Pregnant and alone. Her hand moved to spread across her abdomen. She’d barely come to terms with the fact there was a baby growing inside her, relying on her. And she’d already made such a blunder of things.

      CHAPTER TWO

      CASH ARRIVED AT the church in time to witness the groom taking his moment in the spotlight, blaming everything on Meg in order to gain the public’s sympathy.

      The nerve of the man amazed Cash. Meg was distraught to the point of being physically ill, and here was Harold posing for pictures. His bride might have walked out on him, but Harold sure didn’t look like the injured party. A niggling feeling told him there was more to this story than the bride getting cold feet.

      Ten minutes passed before he pried Gram away from consoling the groom’s family and ushered her to his pickup. At last they hit the road. Gram insisted on regaling him with the tale of how the bride ran out of the church without explanation and all the wild speculations. Cash let her talk. All too soon she would learn the facts for herself.

      When he reached the two-lane highway he had only one mission—to tramp the accelerator and get back to the sickly bride. By now she must think he’d forgotten her.

      Nothing could be further from the truth.

      “Cash, slow down,” Gram protested. “I don’t know what you’re in such an all-fired-up rush for. There’s nothing at the Tumbling Weed that can’t wait.”

      “It’s not the ranch I’m worried about.”

      He could feel his grandmother’s pointed gaze. “You aren’t in some kind of trouble again, are you?”

      He sighed, hating how his past clung to him tighter than wet denim. “Not like you’re thinking.”

      He glanced down at the speedometer, finding he was well beyond the limit. He eased his boot up on the accelerator. As his speed decreased his anxiety rose. It was bad enough having to leave Meg alone, but when she didn’t feel well it had to be awful for her.

      At last he flipped on his turn signal and pulled off the road.

      “What are we stopping for? Is there something wrong with the truck? I told you we should have gassed up before leaving town.”

      “The truck’s fine.”

      “Then why are we stopping in the middle of nowhere? Cash, have you lost your mind?”

      “Wait here.” He jumped out of the truck and rushed over to the rock.

      Meg wasn’t there. His chest clenched. What had happened to her? He hadn’t seen any sign of her walking back to town. Had someone picked her up? The thought made him uneasy.

      “Meg!” He turned in a circle. “Meg, where are you?” At last he spotted her, on the other side of the road. She gathered up her dirty dress and rushed across the road. “What in the world were you doing?”

      “I thought if any passing vehicles had taken notice of you dropping a bride off on the side of the road, it might be wiser if I moved to another location.”

      It seemed as though her nerves had settled and left her making reasonable decisions. “Good thinking. Sorry it took me a bit to get back here. Picking up my grandmother took me longer than I anticipated—”

      “Cash, who are you talking to?” Gram hollered from inside the truck.

      “Don’t worry,” he said, “that’s my grandmother. Your number-one fan.”

      “Really? She watches my show?”

      “Don’t sound so surprised. From what Gram says, you’ve gained quite a loyal following.”

      “I suppose I have. That’s why the network’s considering taking the show national.”

      So she was a rising television star. Maybe Harold hadn’t been up for sharing the spotlight? Cash liked the idea of Meg being more successful and popular than a man who played up the part of an injured party to gain public sympathy.

      “Cash, do you hear me?” Gram yelled, her voice growing irritated.

      “We’d better not keep her waiting,” he said. “If she gets it in her mind to climb out of that truck without assistance I’m afraid she’ll get hurt.”

      Meg walked beside him. “Your truck could use a stepladder to get into.”

      “When I bought it my intent was to haul a horse trailer, not to have beautiful women using it as a taxi service.”

      He noticed how splotches of pink bloomed in her cheeks. He found he enjoyed making her blush. Obviously Harold, the stuffed shirt, hadn’t bothered to lather her with compliments. No wonder she’d left him.

      “Before I forget, here’s your phone.” She placed it in his outstretched hand. “I hope you don’t mind but I called my family.”

      “No problem.” He knew if she were his sister or daughter he’d be worried. Turning his attention to his grandmother, he said, “Meg, this is my grandmother—Martha Sullivan. Gram, this is—”

      “The Jiffy Cook,” Gram interjected. Her thin lips pursed together. Behind her wire-rimmed glasses her gaze darted between him and Meg. “You stole the bride. Cash, how could you?”

      His own grandmother believed he was the reason the bride had run away from the church. The fact it had even crossed her mind hurt. He’d have thought Gram of all people would think better of him and not believe all those scandalous stories in the press.

      Before he could refute the accusation Meg spoke up. “Your grandson has been a total gentleman. When he saw me run out of the church with the press on my trail he helped me get away without any incidents. I’m sorry if it inconvenienced you, Mrs. Sullivan.”

      Gram waved away her concern. “It’s you I’m concerned about. Has this thing with my grandson been going on for long?”

      Any color in Meg’s cheeks leached away, leaving her pasty white beneath the light splattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. “I…ah…we aren’t—”

      “Gram, we aren’t together. In fact until she ran out of the church I’d never seen Meg before. She needed a lift and I was there. End of story. No one else knows where she is.”

      “My goodness, what happened? Why did you run away?” Gram pressed a bony hand to her lips, halting the stream of questions. Seconds later, she lowered her hand to her lap. “Sorry, dear. I didn’t mean to