Hook, Line and Shotgun Bride. Cassie Miles
“Like moving you and Benjy to Neil’s house?”
She hadn’t planned on making that move until she and Neil got back from their two-week honeymoon in Baja. Even then, it would be difficult. His house was far from her work, her favorite market and everything she was familiar with. “It’s so inconvenient.”
“But safe,” he said.
It hadn’t escaped her notice that he was wearing his holster under a lightweight summer blazer. Shane definitely took her intruder seriously.
Not like Neil. She didn’t like the way he’d reacted last night. In his opinion, she was having panic attacks, and he wasn’t going to change his mind. Though she admired her fiancé for his decisiveness, she wished that he’d listen to her side of the story.
“After you’re married,” he said, “how are you planning to run Waffles? You’re at the south end of the metro area in Littleton and Neil’s almost in Boulder.”
“Neil wants me to quit.”
“But you don’t want to.”
“I don’t know.” She’d given the issue so much thought that her head ached. “It’s a bridge I’ll cross when I come to it.”
She turned off the main road into the four-block area known as Old South Clarkson Street. With several boutiques and restaurants, it was a pleasant, neighborhood place for specialty shopping. On weekends, traffic closed down in the morning for a farmers’ market.
She drove past Waffles, pleased to see that the tables they set up on the sidewalk for summer were all filled. Around back in the alley, she pulled into her parking space.
“Why are we stopping here?” Shane asked. “I thought we were going to look at a dress.”
“It’s only four stores down.”
She hopped out of the car and started down the alley. Though Shane’s legs were a mile longer than hers, they walked at the same relaxed pace. When they were together, life seemed to take on a more natural tempo, almost as though he carried the easygoing mountain lifestyle with him.
“There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” he said. “You’re not the only one who’s making changes.”
He was always steady and predictable, someone she could count on. “What are you up to?”
“I’m moving to Denver.”
“Leaving the mountains? You?”
“I’m turning thirty this year, and I looked around and saw that I was doing the same thing every day. Arresting the same drunks on the weekend. Driving the same roads. Living in the same house I was born in.”
“Is this because your parents aren’t in Silver Plume anymore?”
“Maybe so.” He shrugged. “Mom and Dad moved to Phoenix two years ago. And my sister’s in New York City. But this really isn’t about family. It’s about me.”
“And you want to try something different.”
“I’m taking a job with a Denver-based security firm. At first, I’ll be doing bodyguard work, but there’s training available. I want to get into computers. And I’ve been learning to fly a helicopter. Man, there is nothing like being up in the sky.”
When she looked up at him, she saw a spark of excitement in his blue eyes. “I’m happy for you, Shane.”
“Time goes fast. I didn’t want to turn around and find myself turning into a sixty-year-old man who never left Silver Plume.”
She opened the rear door to Linda’s Dress Shoppe and went inside. There was nobody in the storeroom, which was typical. She called out, “Anybody home?”
Linda, the proprietor, stuck her head into the back room. “Hi, Angela. I’m busy out here. You go ahead and put on the gown. I’ll be with you in a minute.”
There was an informal sewing area in the corner with tables for cutting fabric, a couple of armless dress forms and a rack of clothes zipped into black garment bags with Linda’s logo emblazoned on the front. A hot pink label stuck to one of the bags had Angela’s name.
Since she hadn’t wanted a fancy gown for her second marriage, she’d picked out a strapless dress with a bit of lace and a matching jacket to cover her shoulders when it got colder at night.
Shane stood beside a sewing table. “This is strange.”
“What?”
“Right here, next to the scissors and spools, there’s a kitchen knife.”
When she took a closer look, anxiety shot through her. “It’s a boning knife. And it’s mine.”
“How do you know?”
“The red dot on the handle.” No one was allowed to touch her chef knives. When she wasn’t using them, she kept them tucked away in a locker in the restaurant office.
She unzipped the garment bag, pushed the plastic aside and stared in shock. Her wedding gown had been slashed to ribbons.
Chapter Four
Unable to believe what she was seeing, Angela tugged the ragged edge of the ripped white fabric. The skirt had been sliced multiple times. Bits of lace hung like entrails around the bodice. The gown was ruined beyond repair.
Scared and confused, she turned away. On the table was the boning knife—her knife! Was it possible that she had done this? She couldn’t remember. Had she suffered a blackout?
The thought terrified her. True, she hadn’t been in her right mind lately. The lack of sleep and stress had taken their toll. Last night, she’d imagined headlights crashing through her kitchen window. But she hadn’t gone completely insane. Not yet, anyway.
Shane touched her shoulder. In a low voice, he asked, “What do you want to do?”
For one thing, she didn’t want Linda to see this disaster. The owner of the dress shop would have too many questions, and Angela didn’t have answers. “Get me out of here.”
“Done.”
He tossed the knife into the garment bag with the dress and zipped it up just as Linda bustled into the back room with her long, silk scarf flowing behind her.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” she said. “I had a mixup with the register. Thought I’d lost a hundred and fifty bucks. Then I remembered that I went to the bank last night.”
Linda was a lovable scatterbrain. But not crazy. Not like me. She thought of Neil’s diagnosis that she needed to see a psychologist. He might be right.
While Shane introduced himself, she gathered her wits, hoping to appear normal. Not that she needed to worry. When she was with Shane, other women hardly noticed her existence. Even without his hat, he was one hundred percent sexy cowboy.
He beamed a slow smile at Linda and said, “Angela is having second thoughts about the dress. She wants to take it home and decide if this is actually what she wants to wear.”
“Brides are all the same.” Linda grinned up at him. “Always fussing about the details. When I got married, I was as nervous as a squirrel on a highway, jumping from one median to another.”
When Angela forced herself to speak, her voice seemed to be detached from her body. “Remember that white suit I tried on before?”
“Indeed, I do. To tell the truth, I liked you better in that outfit than in the gown. The suit seemed more.” Linda flipped the end of her scarf and chuckled. “More suitable.”
“We’ll take both of them with us,” Shane said. “Then, Angela can make her decision later.”
“Fine