Rancher to the Rescue. Jennifer Faye

Rancher to the Rescue - Jennifer Faye


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wedding? I’m sure people will understand.”

      She shook her head. “No, they won’t.”

      He didn’t have time to make her see reason. “I have to go back to the church. My grandmother is waiting. I can’t abandon her.”

      Meg’s brow creased as she worried her bottom lip. “Then I’ll wait here.”

      “What?” She couldn’t be thinking clearly. “I can’t leave you here. You’re not well.”

      “I won’t go back there. I can’t face all of those people…especially my mother. And when the press spots us together they’ll have a field day.”

      “You can hide on the floor again.”

      She shook her head. “We were lucky to get away with that once. With all of the guests leaving, the chances of me staying hidden are slim to none.”

      She had a good point, but it still didn’t sit right with him. “Leaving you here in the middle of nowhere, in this heat, isn’t a good idea.”

      “This isn’t the middle of nowhere. I’m within walking distance of town. I’ll be fine. Just go. Your grandmother is waiting. There’s just one thing.”

      “What’s that?”

      “Leave me your cell phone.”

      He supposed it was the best solution, but he didn’t like it. Not one bit. But the chance of discovery was too great. Not seeing any other alternative, he pulled the phone from his belt and handed it over.

      “You’re sure about this?” he asked, hoping she’d change her mind.

      She nodded.

      “Then scoot around to the other side of that rock. No one will see you there—unless that veil thing starts flapping in the wind like a big flag.”

      “It won’t.” She wound the lengthy material around her arm. A look of concern filled her eyes. “You will come back, won’t you?”

      He didn’t want to. He didn’t want anything to do with this mess. All he wanted was to go home and get on with his life. But he couldn’t leave her sick and stranded.

      “I’ll be back as fast as I can.”

      Meghan Finnegan watched as the tailgate of the cowboy’s pickup faded into the distance. The events of the day rushed up and stampeded her, knocking the air from her lungs. How could Harold have waited until she’d walked up the aisle to tell her he’d suddenly changed his mind?

      He didn’t want her.

      And he wanted her to get rid of their unborn baby—a baby they’d agreed to keep secret until after the ceremony. Meghan wrapped her arms around her midsection. She loved her baby and she’d do whatever was necessary to care for it.

      She sagged against the rock before her knees gave out. Sure, she knew Harold hadn’t wanted children—he’d made that clear from the start. And with her rising television career she’d accepted that children wouldn’t fit into her hectic lifestyle. But this was different—it had been an accident. When she’d told Harold about the pregnancy a few weeks ago he’d been stunned at first but then he’d seemed to accept it. What in the world had changed his mind?

      The sound of an approaching vehicle—perhaps departing wedding guests—sent her scurrying behind the outcrop of large rocks. She wasn’t ready to face the inquiring questions, the pitying stares or the speculative guesses. At twenty-eight, she’d prided herself on having her life all planned out. Now she was pregnant and she didn’t have a clue what her next move should be.

      She sank down on a small rock and yanked out scads of hairpins in order to release the veil. At last free of the yards of tulle, she ran her fingers through her hair, letting it flow over her shoulders.

      She glanced down at the black phone in her lap. She should probably call her family, so they didn’t worry, but there was no way she was going to deal with her mother, who would demand answers. After all, her mother had been instrumental in planning this whole affair—from setting up her initial date with the boy-next-door who’d grown up to make a fortune in the computer software business to making the wedding plans. In fact the preparations were what had finally pulled her mother out of her depression after cancer had robbed them of Meghan’s father less than a year ago.

      Not that all of the blame could be laid at her mother’s feet. Meghan had been willing to go along with the plans—anxious to put her father’s mind at ease about her future before he passed on. And, eager at last to gain her mother’s hard-won approval, she’d convinced herself Harold was the man for her.

      Then, as the “big day” approached the doubts had started to settle in. At first she’d thought they were just the usual bridal jitters. But Harold had started to change—to be less charming and thoughtful. It had been as though she was really seeing him for the first time. But her options had vanished as soon as the pregnancy strip displayed two little pink lines.

      Meghan’s hand moved to her barely-there baby bump. “It’s okay, little one. Mommy will fix things. I just need some time to think.”

      First she had to call her family. She carefully considered whom to contact. Her middle sister Ella? Or her little sis Katie? At the moment they weren’t all that close. Since their father’s death the family had splintered. She’d hoped the wedding would bring them all together again, but nothing she’d tried had worked.

      Never having been very close with her youngest sister, she dialed Ella’s number. The cell phone rang for a long time. Meghan had blocked Cash’s number and now she worried that her sister might think it was a prank call or, worse, a telemarketer and not answer. Maybe that was for the best. She could leave a message and have no questions to field.

      “Hello?” chimed Ella’s hesitant voice.

      “Ella, it’s me. Meghan.”

      “Meghan—”

      “Shh…don’t let anyone know you’re talking to me. I’m not ready to deal with Mother.”

      “Wait a sec.” The buzz of people talking in the background grew faint, followed by the thud of a door closing. “Okay. I’m alone. What happened? Why’d you run off? Where—?”

      “Slow down.”

      Her first instinct was to tell Ella she was stranded on the side of the road. In the past they’d shared all sorts of girly secrets—right up until Ella’s engagement had ended abruptly seven months ago. Her sister hadn’t been the same since then. Now, it wouldn’t be right to burden her sister with her problems—not when Ella still had her own to figure out.

      Meghan heard herself saying, “Don’t worry. I’m fine. I’m with a friend.”

      “But why did you run out on the wedding? I thought you wanted to marry Harold? He acted so broken up and shocked when you took off.”

      “What?” Her mouth gaped as her fingers clenched the phone tighter to her ear.

      “Harold barely held it together when he told the family that he didn’t have a clue why you ran out on him.”

      “He knew…”

      That low-down, sniveling, two-faced creep. Her blood boiled in her veins. How could he turn the tables on her when he was the one who’d done the jilting?

      He was worried about his image. It always came back to what would look best for him and his company. Why should he take any of the blame for the ruined wedding when she wasn’t there to defend herself?

      “Meghan, what did he know? Are you still there?”

      “He lied,” she said, trying to remain calm so she didn’t say something she’d regret later. But she couldn’t let her sister believe Harold’s lies. “He knew exactly why I left.”

      “It’s okay,” Ella said as sympathy oozed


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