way across the drive. He took the stairs two at a time and entered through the open doorway.
Phoebe stood with her back leaning against the tiny kitchenette counter, a cup of tea in her hands. The liquid sloshed over the sides because her hands shook so badly.
For a long moment, Nash stared. Her cheeks were pale, her green eyes dark, surrounded by shadows. As he crossed the room, her gaze sought his and her bottom lip trembled like her hands. She caught it between her teeth and her eyes filled.
Nash did the only thing he could. He took the cup from her, set it on the counter and then pulled her into his arms.
She rested her cheek against his chest, her fingers curling into his T-shirt. “I don’t know how this all happened or why.” A shiver shook her body, despite the heat already building outside.
“Tell me about it,” he encouraged.
“I was supposed to get married yesterday.”
“Already got that part.”
She turned her face into his shirt and pressed her forehead to his chest, not looking up as the story spilled out. “The ceremony was about to begin when I realized I didn’t love him. I almost married a man my father picked for me. Not one I loved.” She waved a hand and then clutched his shirt again. “I don’t know how I let the wedding plans go that far. Stupid, I guess. Gullible and stupid. I was about to go to him and tell him I couldn’t marry him when the best man showed up and said they couldn’t find the groom.” She laughed.
The mirthless sound made Nash’s heart contract. He stroked her curly auburn hair, wondering how any man could walk away from this woman. “He must have been a fool.”
“I thought he’d jilted me. The irony wasn’t lost on me, but I was angry. With myself. With my father. With Ryan. I looked for him. When I realized he wasn’t in the church, I went outside, thinking he might be in the garden. He wasn’t. And there it was. The convertible he should have been driving away from the church with me inside.”
She leaned back and stared up at him, a film of tears making her eyes shine brightly. “For the first time in my life, I did what I wanted to do. Not what my father or mother wanted me to do. I got into that car and drove away from the church, from my life and from everything I knew. I was tired of being something I wasn’t. Someone I didn’t know or care to be.” She smiled as the first tear trailed down her cheek.
Nash reached up to brush it away with his thumb, then he leaned forward and kissed her cheek.
“I didn’t want to go back to live under my father’s thumb, or marry a man of his choosing. I wanted to be independent. Live life as I saw fit.” She threw her hands in the air, turned away and paced the three steps needed to cross the length of the available floor space. “Then the flat tire, the wreck and the body in the trunk. I got scared. I didn’t know what to do. I thought I would be accused of murder.” As her words poured out in a jumble, she raked a hand through her hair and spun toward him, her eyes wide. “I don’t want to go to jail. I didn’t do anything wrong. But I actually did because I didn’t tell anyone.” She extended her arms, her wrists held together. “You might as well arrest me. I’m sure I broke some law. But I didn’t kill my fiancé.”
Nash raised his hands. “Whoa! Slow down there. What are you talking about? Why would I arrest you?” Once again, he gathered her in his arms, hoping to comfort her. Then his mind picked two words out of her jumbled diatribe, and he froze. Slowly, he pushed her to arm’s length, his brows lowered. “Wait. What body are you talking about? What murder?”
She stood staring, her entire body trembling now. “I told you. Ryan was in that trunk. My fiancé. He was dead.”
8
A fter an hour and a half in the sheriff’s office, and a painfully thorough interrogation by the sheriff himself, Phoebe asked, “Now what? Am I going to jail?”
The sheriff shrugged. “We
Phoebe stood with her back leaning against the tiny kitchenette counter, a cup of tea in her hands. The liquid sloshed over the sides because her hands shook so badly.
For a long moment, Nash stared. Her cheeks were pale, her green eyes dark, surrounded by shadows. As he crossed the room, her gaze sought his and her bottom lip trembled like her hands. She caught it between her teeth and her eyes filled.
Nash did the only thing he could. He took the cup from her, set it on the counter and then pulled her into his arms.
She rested her cheek against his chest, her fingers curling into his T-shirt. “I don’t know how this all happened or why.” A shiver shook her body, despite the heat already building outside.
“Tell me about it,” he encouraged.
“I was supposed to get married yesterday.”
“Already got that part.”
She turned her face into his shirt and pressed her forehead to his chest, not looking up as the story spilled out. “The ceremony was about to begin when I realized I didn’t love him. I almost married a man my father picked for me. Not one I loved.” She waved a hand and then clutched his shirt again. “I don’t know how I let the wedding plans go that far. Stupid, I guess. Gullible and stupid. I was about to go to him and tell him I couldn’t marry him when the best man showed up and said they couldn’t find the groom.” She laughed.
The mirthless sound made Nash’s heart contract. He stroked her curly auburn hair, wondering how any man could walk away from this woman. “He must have been a fool.”
“I thought he’d jilted me. The irony wasn’t lost on me, but I was angry. With myself. With my father. With Ryan. I looked for him. When I realized he wasn’t in the church, I went outside, thinking he might be in the garden. He wasn’t. And there it was. The convertible he should have been driving away from the church with me inside.”
She leaned back and stared up at him, a film of tears making her eyes shine brightly. “For the first time in my life, I did what I wanted to do. Not what my father or mother wanted me to do. I got into that car and drove away from the church, from my life and from everything I knew. I was tired of being something I wasn’t. Someone I didn’t know or care to be.” She smiled as the first tear trailed down her cheek.
Nash reached up to brush it away with his thumb, then he leaned forward and kissed her cheek.
“I didn’t want to go back to live under my father’s thumb, or marry a man of his choosing. I wanted to be independent. Live life as I saw fit.” She threw her hands in the air, turned away and paced the three steps needed to cross the length of the available floor space. “Then the flat tire, the wreck and the body in the trunk. I got scared. I didn’t know what to do. I thought I would be accused of murder.” As her words poured out in a jumble, she raked a hand through her hair and spun toward him, her eyes wide. “I don’t want to go to jail. I didn’t do anything wrong. But I actually did because I didn’t tell anyone.” She extended her arms, her wrists held together. “You might as well arrest me. I’m sure I broke some law. But I didn’t kill my fiancé.”
Nash raised his hands. “Whoa! Slow down there. What are you talking about? Why would I arrest you?” Once again, he gathered her in his arms, hoping to comfort her. Then his mind picked two words out of her jumbled diatribe, and he froze. Slowly, he pushed her to arm’s length, his brows lowered. “Wait. What body are you talking about? What murder?”
She stood staring, her entire body trembling now. “I told you. Ryan was in that trunk. My fiancé. He was dead.”
8
A fter an hour and a half in the sheriff’s office, and a painfully thorough interrogation by the sheriff himself, Phoebe asked, “Now what? Am I going to jail?”
The sheriff shrugged. “We
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