Rush was already halfway across the seat, shoving the passenger door open. “Get in.”
Lily didn’t hesitate, scrambling to yank up layers of her god-awful dress, and hopping onto the bench seat. She tried to pull the door closed, but the dress had taken over the front seat like it had a life of its own. She yanked again, falling back on the seat, her breasts threatening to spill out of the top.
The truck wasn’t built for a two-hundred-twenty-pound man, a military dog, and a bride in a dress the size of Texas. She yanked hard, pulling the dress up higher, and slammed the door closed behind her. And froze.
Riggs looked between the layers of gauzy white dress that surrounded him to the woman who had stolen his spot, clearly disgruntled. Rush nearly laughed. Riggs had retired from the military with him and was already used to the creature comforts of civilian life, but he still looked like a badass.
“He doesn’t bite,” Rush said gruffly.
A high whistle filled the truck. Rush recognized the sound. He glanced at the woman sharply, but she was already holding a red inhaler to her lips.
“Buckle up,” he growled, slamming the truck into gear. Snow sprayed as they tore away from the curb.
This was a mistake.
He knew it.
But it was one he made every time.
Chapter Three
“Can you breathe?”
Lily jumped, her heart still hammering away in her chest. Sheriff Rush Callahan already intimidated her on a good day, but scowling at her from across the bench seat, he looked downright lethal.
She’d seen her share of those cop shows, and the sheriff looked every inch the tough, hard cop, with black hair, a couple days of dark scruff on his jaw, and a tall, hard-muscled body that seemed to fill every inch of the cab. She’d sing like a bird if he ever interrogated her.
She nodded quickly, the medicine easing the tightness in her chest.I am a still lake.
At her feet, the massive dog tilted its head, staring at her with an expression she could interpret only as disdain and let out a low growl.
“Quiet,” Rush barked. Lily flinched before she realized he was talking to the dog, not her.
Adrenaline still pumped through her veins like wildfire as she processed what had just happened. She twisted around in the seat, pushing down the layers of tulle to look out the backwindow. The church doors flew open, and there stood Tucker, fists planted on his hips, his face twisted with fury. His mother hovered beside him, her lips pressed into a tight line of disapproval. Tucker’s eyes locked on hers as they sped away.
Holy shit. She really had done it.
A small, hysterical laugh burst out of her. It bubbled up, spilling over until she was clutching her stomach, her whole body shaking with laughter, tears streaming down her cheeks.
The sheriff shot her a sharp glance. “Put your head between your knees.”
“I’m fine,” she gasped, still laughing. Her chest felt looser than it had all day, her lungs working properly for once. Lord, she must look unhinged, but the absurdity was too much—it was just not how she saw this day ending.
Her fingers instinctively found the rose quartz pendant at her throat, the one thing she had insisted on wearing. She rubbed it between her fingertips, grounding herself.
She peeked at Sheriff Callahan from the corner of her eye. Not on her bingo card for her wedding day: Northfield’s sheriff driving the getaway car.
Her sisters called him “Sheriff Sexy” when he first came to town, striding around in his charcoal-gray uniform and silver badge, a tan Stetson shadowing his eyes. He was always impossibly composed and untouchable in the authority of his uniform, but Lily’s nervousness around him came from something else entirely. It was his rugged, unapologetically masculine presence that had always made her tongue-tied and feel slightly out of her comfort zone.
But here in the cab of his truck, he looked different. The Stetson was gone, replaced by a beat-up cap. The pressed uniform was now well-worn jeans and a shearling-lined coat pulled high against the cold, his broad frame even larger wrapped inside it. Her gaze drifted to the wheel, where his bighands gripped it tightly. His knuckles were bruised and scabbed, like he’d just been in a fight and won. A shiver of wariness curled through her at the blunt reminder of the differences between them.
Really, it was embarrassing every time they ran into each other in town. He was one of those people who made her forget how to act normal, so she just ended up smiling like a dummy while her face turned beet red. He must think her head was as fluffy as her dress.
The thought made another nervous laugh bubble up. Lily Hart, rule follower, people pleaser, had just blown up her life like a runaway bride in a rom-com.
The sheriff’s jaw was set, his eyes locked on the snow-covered road ahead as if this were just another day at the office for him. Tucker always made fun of her when she talked about people’s energy—he called her a hippie—but Lily was a big believer that the world could be nudged into more harmony if people just had the right vibrations. She liked to think she put out a light, peaceful energy—or she tried to, at least.
Sheriff Callahan’s energy was grounded and intense, like the steady hum of a storm about to break. It wasn’t loud or flashy, but it was impossible to ignore. It was calm, and controlled, and it carried a weight of authority that made people straighten up and listen. He was the kind of man who solved problems and didn’t think twice about it.
