by Lori Wilde
Nate snorted. “I’ve seen those books. My sister loves them, but for some reason those guys never keep their shirts on.”
She gathered her wrap, large purse, and sunglasses as he located his sports jacket. Since the tornado had blown through, the good weather was supposed to hold up, but you never knew in Texas. He opened the door with a flourish and bowed her through it.
“Ma’am.”
The glance she gave him over her shoulder as she sashayed past made him feel hot and cold all over. Maybe his dad was right and he should just blurt it out—tell her that she was The One . . .
Even as he formed the thought, she was walking away from him, her gaze fixed on her cell phone. Nate let out his breath. They had all afternoon to spend together at a wedding; there was plenty of time to declare himself, if that’s what he decided to do.
* * *
Della sighed with pleasure as they were escorted into the tiny wedding chapel at the Hawk Creek Ranch. Nate had told her it no longer served a real congregation but was available for special weddings. Meg Stoddard, whom she’d gone to school with, was Brady Cutwright’s best woman and the Stoddard family owned the land, making it the perfect place for the celebration.
A long white carpet had been laid from the back of the chapel to the front and a country band off to one side played something soothing. There was no sign of Travis Whitley yet. Nate carefully took off his hat and placed it on the bench behind him as Brady and Meg walked up the aisle to await the bride.
Nate leaned down to whisper in her ear, “Brady looks calm enough.”
“Did you think he’d bolt like a wild horse?”
“Nope. He loves that woman. I could see it in his eyes.”
Della wondered what it would feel like to be loved that way—to have a man who put you first, loved you to distraction, and respected the heck out of you. Maybe a man like Nate Turner.
The music changed and the packed congregation stood as the bride, accompanied by her man of honor, Air Force Major Shane Freemont in full-dress uniform, walked down the aisle. Ellie wore a white chiffon dress with cowboy boots and a hat with a veil that made Della smile. The expression on Ellie’s face as she reached Brady brought a lump to Della’s throat and she fumbled for her handkerchief.
Nate took her hand and gave her his handkerchief. “You’re a crier? I should have guessed.”
She dabbed at the corner of her eyes with the starched cotton. “Don’t say anything. You’ll just make me worse. I have to get through this.”
He chuckled and brought her hand to his mouth for a kiss. “You’ll be fine. Concentrate.”
It was hard to concentrate with him standing beside her, holding her hand and rubbing little circles on her skin. She turned her attention to the vows being exchanged by the couple and almost lost it again. This was what love meant. This was what she wanted.
It didn’t take long for the service to end, and the happy couple progressed down the aisle grinning from ear to ear. Everyone followed them out for the pictures, which seemed to take forever. Still feeling guilty about gatecrashing the wedding, Della tried to avoid being in the group pictures, but Nate kept a firm hold of her hand and coaxed her into joining him. The only other person who was as reluctant to be photographed as she was Travis, which made her feel terrible about surreptitiously snapping pictures of him every chance she got.
Just as they’d left the hotel, Wade had sent her a text saying he could get double the money if she scored a photo of Travis drunk or misbehaving, which had made her feel physically sick.
The wedding reception was being held in the same converted barn as the rehearsal dinner except there were twice as many people, which made the place much louder. She spied Travis sitting in the quietest corner of the room, his hat low down, shielding his face. She almost wished he hadn’t come so she could just tell her stinking boss what to do with his assignment and his threats—except she couldn’t do that with her sister depending on her.
Nate went off to congratulate the groom, leaving Della free to ease toward Travis, her cell phone at the ready. She’d taken a million pictures of him already, but none of them were great. If he would just look up, she could get some decent shots of his face and hope they would be good enough for Wade. Travis certainly hadn’t brought a woman with him, gotten drunk, or misbehaved. Hopefully when she gave Wade the pictures, he’d stop threatening her and then not use them after all.
She had time to take a few shots before realizing the light probably wasn’t good enough. If she came in from the other side, she could use her proper camera . . .
“You okay?”
She jumped as Nate came up behind her, two glasses of champagne in his hands.
“Yes. I was just thinking about taking some pictures.” She patted her purse. “I brought my digital camera with me just in case. It’s so beautiful in this part of Texas.”
He handed her the glass of champagne, his gaze sweeping the area and the distinct lack of wedding guests.
“I bet Ellie and Brady would love more pictures to choose from. Brides and grooms can’t seem to get enough of them these days. The last wedding I went to they even had those disposable digital cameras on each guest’s plate.”
She sipped at her champagne, her throat suddenly dry. “Did you work out where we’re sitting?”
He nodded to where Travis was already seated. “Over there, at the back with a group of Brady’s old college friends, including the obnoxious Steve, I’m afraid.”
“We’ll just ignore him and talk to Travis.” Della pocketed her phone and took Nate’s arm. “We might as well go sit down. I think Meg’s about to call us all to order anyway.”
* * *
The food was good, but Nate hardly tasted it. He wasn’t stupid and by his count, the only pictures Della had been taking for the past two days were of Travis. Sure, she was trying to be subtle about it, but he wasn’t fooled. But why was she so interested in the country-western star? She’d insisted he wasn’t her type, so why all the pictures?
When she left the table to powder her nose, she left her phone behind but took her purse. She was away long enough for Nate to start to get worried, but just then Travis spoke up.
“Nate, have you ever thought about going into private security?”
“In what way?”
Travis smiled. “As in head of my security team. I bet I could pay you a lot more than you’re making now.”
“I bet you could, but I love my job, and you probably need someone with way more experience than me.”
“True, but he still wouldn’t be a friend. This is the first time I’ve been out of my house without being pursued for almost a year. It’s awesome.” A muscle twitched in Travis’s cheek. “I’ve had security teams that have taken payment to let women into my house, called select paparazzi when I’m at the dentist, and generally screwed with my life.”
“I wouldn’t do that.”
“Hell, I know. That’s why I’m asking you.” Travis hesitated, leaning in closer. “It’s crushing me, this business. It’s taken away all the joy I had from performing, and made me a prisoner in my own house.”
“I’m sorry that’s happening to you, but I still don’t want the job.”
“I’ll pay you half a million bucks a year.”
For a second Nate forgot how to breathe. “You’re kidding, right?”
Travis winked as he stood up. “Nope. Think about it, okay?”
Holy cow . . . Nate stared down at his cell, his fingers sliding across the screen even as he realized he still held Della’s phone and that he was flipping through endless pictures of a totally unaware Travis Whitley. Hundreds of pictures . . .
He put the cell in his pocket and headed out to find Della, his good mood rapidly deteriorating as he found her snapping away at the interior of the barn with her digital camera.
Her warm smile stopped him in his tracks.
“I’m sorry, Nate. I got distracted. Were you worried about me?”
; He tried to compare her apparently genuine pleasure at seeing him with what he’d seen on her phone. When he didn’t reply, she put her camera away, her smile disappearing.
“Are you okay?”
He held out her cell. “You left this on the table.”
“Oh, thanks, I meant to put it in my purse and forgot.” She held out her hand but he didn’t turn it over. “What’s up?”
“Why all the pictures of Travis?”
She went still, the color rushing into her cheeks. “What?”
“I didn’t mean to pry, but you must have taken hundreds of snaps of him and only one of the bride and groom.”
She snatched the phone from his grasp. “Why wouldn’t I want to take his picture? He’s famous.”
“And he asked to be left alone at this private, family wedding.” He considered her carefully. “What’s going on, Della?”
Her chin came up and she looked him right in the eye. “Maybe I’m just a . . . a little obsessed with him, okay?”
“Like you’re a professional stalker?” He thought of the way she’d written Travis’s name again and again on the notepad and her initial reluctance to meet the star. Nothing added up and he hated that.
“Yeah, why not? Everyone needs a hobby.” She waved her arms around. “I can’t help myself. He just does something to me that makes me want to hang around him all the time, read every scrap of information I can find about him on the internet, and one day, if God is willing, marry the man!”
Nate let out a slow breath. She was either being sarcastic or was totally off-the-charts nuts. “Is that why you agreed to spend time with me? Just to get close to Travis?”
“Yes! No! That’s—” She bit down hard on her lip. “Dammit! Why did you have to put it like that?”
“Because I thought you liked me. I thought—” He shoved a hand into his pocket and took a step back, his heart banging in his chest. “But it’s all good. Maybe if you ask him nicely, Travis will give you his room number and you won’t have to waste your time shacking up with me. Hey, maybe I’ll go ask him for you. How’s that sound?”
He turned his back on her.
“Nate, I don’t want to spend time with Travis. I—”
But he was beyond listening. Sometimes it really paid to ignore his softer side and focus on the reality of a situation. At least he’d learned to do that. The fact that it still hurt made no difference. He’d survive. He’d toughen up until one day the stupid Turner tradition that there was a perfect woman out there just waiting for him would die a natural death and he’d move on. Willing himself not to weaken, he headed for the bar and ordered a beer. The wedding went on around him, but he pretended not to care.
Chapter Four
The ride back to the hotel was made in complete silence. Della tried twice to talk to Nate, but he was having none of it. She might as well have been some kind of suspect he’d picked up in his patrol car. And heck, she felt like one. After a few minutes she subsided into a miserable guilty stillness as tears threatened to overwhelm her. She’d hurt him. She’d seen it in his eyes before he’d walked away from her.
She briefly closed her eyes as the glare of another car’s headlights passed them on the other side of the road. Why had she panicked and said all that stupid stuff? Why hadn’t she told Nate the truth? Why had she agreed that she was a stalker of all things? But she knew why. Better he thought she was a weirdo than a temporary member of the paparazzi intruding on Travis Whitley’s personal space.
He held open the door into the hotel and walked her up to the room, key card in hand. She immediately made a dash for the bathroom, hoping a few moments alone might inspire her about how to talk to him, how to take that stubborn look off his face . . . but nothing occurred to her and she reluctantly walked back into the bedroom, only to find him packing his things.
“What are you doing?” Della croaked.
He spared her only a brief glance. “Giving you some space. Don’t worry; the room’s paid for until tomorrow.”
“But where are you going to sleep?”
“I’ve got somewhere to go.”
A tear trickled down her cheek and then another one. “Please don’t do this. If anyone should leave, it should be me.”
He carried on stuffing his belongings into his case as if he hadn’t heard her.
“Please, Nate. It’s not what you think—”
“Don’t say that.” He slammed the case shut and zipped it up. “I’m a cop. I’ve heard every excuse in the book and I really don’t want to hear them from you.”
“That’s not fair,” she whispered.
“Life’s not fair.” He swallowed hard. “Good luck with Travis and it was nice knowing you.”
The next minute he was leaving, closing the door with a definite click behind him.
Della started to shake and then her knees gave way and she sank to the floor and just let it all out. Nate was the best thing that had happened to her in years and she couldn’t have him because her life was a tangled mess of lies and obligations and . . .
“It’s not fair!” she repeated as she hugged her knees and rocked back and forth.
* * *
Nate halted in the hotel lobby and took another deep breath. She’d been crying when he’d left and now he felt like a complete heel. But what was the point of staying? He’d dealt with a few stalkers in his day job. If she were obsessed with Travis, she’d never have time for him. He might as well accept that his Turner intuition was wrong, wish her well, and move on.
Except that he didn’t want to. Except that he felt like his heart was being ripped in two . . .
“Hey, Nate.”
He looked past the reception desk into the dark recesses of the small bar and saw Travis sitting in one of the booths.
“Hey.” Grabbing his case, he walked toward his old friend.
“Trouble in paradise?” Travis pointed at his luggage.
“You could say that.” Nate slid into the seat opposite. “Can I still get a drink around here?”
“Sure you can; I’m Travis Whitley. Everything stays open for me.” Travis clicked his fingers and one of his bodyguards appeared. “Dec, get Mr. Turner whatever he needs from the bar.”
“A beer will do fine.”
“Yes, sir.”
Nate took off his hat and ran his fingers through his flattened hair. “Thanks, Travis.”
“You’re welcome.” When his drink arrived, Travis clinked glasses with him. “It was a great wedding, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah. Although I never thought I’d see Brady Cutwright marrying a vegan.”
“But he loves her. You can see it.” Travis sipped his drink. “She’s the perfect woman for him.”
“Yeah.”
“So, what’s up between you and the darling Miss Della?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Hell, I’m dying to know what made you abandon ship at midnight. You two seemed right together somehow.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“And she didn’t?”
“She’s obsessed with someone else.”
Travis shook his head. “Wow; women . . .” He hesitated. “Can’t you talk her out of it?”
“I didn’t even try.”
“Why not?”
“Because . . .” Nate paused as the beer soured in his stomach. “I don’t know why. There I was, thinking we had a future together, and then I found out she was just using me to get to someone else.”
“That sucks.”
Nate abandoned his beer. “Yeah.”
* * *
Della spent a long while taking off her makeup and changing into her pajamas, but nothing could stop her constantly rerunning that last awful conversation with Nate in her head. Where was he now? The town was still full of wedding guests, so where was he going to sleep? She didn’t want him out there alone, but if she went looking for him, she’d have to tell him the truth, and then she’d have to watch him walk away from her all ov
er again.
She grabbed her cell and skimmed through the hundreds of pictures of Travis she’d taken, ruthlessly deleting almost all of them. She paused to study the superstar’s face and felt another stab of guilt at the shadows in his eyes and the sense of vulnerability in his gaze. Whatever was going on in Travis Whitley’s private life was hurting him. If she gave Wade these pictures, that made her as bad as he was . . .
But if she didn’t, she’d lose her job, her promising career, and her income, which meant her family would be more desperate than ever. Even as she stared at Travis, her cell vibrated and she flipped through to text.
COME HOME RIGHT NOW! NEED TO GET PERRY TO ER!!!
With a gasp, Della slipped on her shoes, grabbed her purse, and ran toward the door. Her family only owned one car, and if her mom was out, then Adrianna was alone with the kids.
She didn’t bother to wait for the elevator, running down the stairs to the lobby hardly aware of who or what was around her. Reaching her car, she unlocked it, threw her purse on the seat, and started the engine. Except it wouldn’t start. She tried again and then again, her heart pounding so hard in her chest that she could hear it.
“Start, dammit!” She thumped the steering wheel. The battery had probably died. It had a habit of doing that, especially after a long trip like the drive from California.
“Della?”
She jumped as Nate’s face appeared at the open window with Travis behind him.
“What’s up?”
She gripped the wheel and stared straight ahead. “The battery’s dead. I need to get to my mother’s house.”
He reached in and patted her shoulder. “Then I’ll take you.”
* * *
Nate glanced at Della as he drove through the center of town. Her hands were clenched into fists and her face was a waxen image of her normally vibrant self. She still wore her pink pajamas and her hair was braided down her back; she looked as vulnerable as hell. He’d managed to persuade Travis to stay at the hotel and had promised to call if they needed anything.
“What’s going on, Della?”
“I need to get to my mother’s house.”