James Bravo's Shotgun Bride. Christine Rimmer

it wasn’t as if she hadn’t given it her best shot. Three times. In high school and then again when she was twenty-one and finally with a bull rider she’d met at the county rodeo. Her high school love had married someone else and her second forever guy had dumped her flat. The bull rider had dumped her, too, the morning after their first night together. For her, same as for her mother, love had not lasted.

      And now she had a baby on the way. And her grandfather to care for. And Red Hill and her horses and a side business she loved. It was enough. She didn’t need the human magnet that was James Bravo, thank you very much.

      He asked again if she was okay.

      “I’m fine,” she lied and plastered on a smile. “It’s all taken care of. Before he died, Brandon saw to it that we have the kind of insurance that covers everything, no deductibles and no co-pays. So money is no worry. Everything is going to be okay.”

      He didn’t buy that lie. She could see that in those gorgeous eyes of his. But he didn’t call her on it. He only asked, “How’s Levi?”

      “They have him stabilized, they said, and they’re flying him to St. Anne’s Memorial in Denver for surgery.” She dropped her phone in her purse yet again and pulled his out. It was one of those fancy android phones with all the bells and whistles. “I’m sorry. I forgot to give this back to you.” She shoved it at him.

      He took it. “No problem.”

      “Thank you. For everything, up to and including not having my granddad thrown in jail.”

      A smile twitched at the corner of his handsome mouth. “You’re welcome.”

      She was just trying to figure out how to tell him gently to get lost, when he continued, “So you need to get to Denver? Come on, I’ll drive you.”

      And then, with no warning, he touched her.

      He wrapped his big, warm fingers around her bare arm right below the short sleeve of her T-shirt, causing a sudden hot havoc of sensation, like little fireworks exploding in a line, up to her shoulder, across to the base of her throat and then straight down to the center of her.

      She stood stock-still, gaping up at him, thinking, Just tell him that you’ll manage. Just tell him to let go and leave.

      “Let me drive you.” He said it low. Intensely. As if he knew what she was thinking and wouldn’t give up until he’d gone and changed her mind.

      She demanded, “Don’t you have to be in court or something?”

      He looked kind of amused—but in a serious and determined way. “Not today. Let me take you to Denver.”

      She longed to refuse again. But the truth was she needed to get to St. Anne’s, and she needed to get there fast. As soon as PawPaw was safely through his surgery, she could figure out the rest.

      James watched her face. He still held her arm and he smelled way too good. A little dusty, a little sweaty, with a faint hint of some manly aftershave still lingering even after all her grandpa had put him through. He demanded, “Have you called Carmen?”

      “Not yet.”

      “So it’s best to let me take you. You can make all the calls you need to make while we’re on the road.”

      * * *

      Ten minutes later, they were flying along the state highway on the way to I-25. She called Carmen.

      At the sound of her sister’s voice, the damn tears started spurting again. “Carm?” she squeaked, all tight and wobbly, both at once.

      And Carmen knew instantly that something was wrong. “Omigod, honey, what’s happened?”

      James reached over in front of her and dropped open the glove box. He pulled out a box of tissues. Was there anything the man wasn’t ready for? She whipped out a tissue and dabbed at her eyes. He put the box back and withdrew his big, hard arm.

      “Addie Anne. Honey, are you still there?”

      “I’m here. I’m okay. It’s PawPaw.”

      “Oh, no. Is he—”

      “He had a heart attack, but he’s still alive.” At least, he was half an hour ago. She explained about the helicopter to St. Anne’s and the emergency surgery that would happen there.

      “But...a heart attack? How...?”

      Addie squeezed her eyes shut as she pictured James tied to that chair, Levi yelling and waving his shotgun, the hole he’d blown in the basement ceiling. “Long story.” Dear Lord. Was it ever! And Carmen didn’t know about the baby yet, either. “I’ll fill you in on everything later, promise. But...do you think you can come?”

      “Of course I’ll come.”

      Relief flooded through Addie. Times like this, a girl needed her big sister’s hand to hold. “I’m so glad.”

      “I’ll be there as soon as I can. St. Anne’s, you said?”

      “Yeah. I’ve got nothing but the name of the hospital at this point.”

      “Don’t worry. I’ll find you. I can get family leave from work and figure it all out with Devin, see if his mom can come and stay with the kids.” Devin’s mother had moved to Laramie after her husband died. She’d wanted to be closer to her grandkids. “I’ll get everything arranged as fast as I can and then meet you there. Call my cell if...” Carmen faltered and then finished weakly, “If there’s any other news.”

      “I will. Love you, Carm.”

      “Love you, too...”

      They said goodbye. Addie disconnected the call and sagged against the passenger window. Too much was happening. Losing Brandon followed by constant morning sickness had been more than enough for her to handle. She had simply not been prepared to deal with her crazy grandpa kidnapping James Bravo and then having a heart attack on top of the rest. Pressing a hand against her roiling belly, she dabbed at her eyes and willed James’s fancy quad cab to get there superfast.

      * * *

      At the hospital, they were sent straight to the surgery wing, where her grandpa was being prepped for bypass surgery. Addie dealt with yet more forms. James took a seat in the waiting room and Addie went in with the surgeon to look at images of Levi’s heart and listen to a description of the surgery to come.

      James was waiting when she emerged. She knew the sweetest rush of gratitude, just to have him there. He was practically a stranger—or at least, no more than a casual friend—and she needed to remember that. Still, it meant so much to have someone waiting when she left the surgeon and his pictures of her grandpa’s blocked-up arteries. It meant the world to her not to have to do this alone.

      At the sight of her, he got up and came for her. “Addie,” he said. “You’re dead white. You need to sit down.”

      “I can’t... I don’t...” What was wrong with her words? Why wouldn’t they organize themselves into actual sentences?

      “Come on now.” He reached out and drew her close, into his height and hardness and warmth. “It’s going to be all right.” She let herself sag against his solid strength. It felt way too good there, pressed tight to his side, his big arm banded around her.

      But then her poor stomach started churning again. And this time, she couldn’t swallow hard enough or breathe slowly enough to settle it down. With a sharp cry, she pushed James away and ran for the ladies’ room.

      At least it wasn’t far, a quick sprint across the waiting room. She shoved through the door and made for the first stall, knocking the stall door inward with the flat of her hand, flinging back the seat and bracing her palms on her thighs just in time. Everything started coming up as her long hair fell forward, getting in the way. She grabbed for it, trying to shove it back and keep her purse from dropping off her shoulder and spilling all over the floor, too.

      And