Which meant that Slate would keep walking—right out of her life. And she would never again see those hazel eyes sparkle with teasing humor or his lips turn up in that cocky smile. Never again snuggle against his hard chest or spend a passion-filled night in his arms—
“No!” The word gushed up from deep inside her and ricocheted off the ceiling of the tiny room.
Faith Aldridge might not belong in Bramble, but Faith Scroggs did. After three weeks of living in Texas, the sweet conformist was pushed out by a determined rebel who wasn’t about to let the only man she would ever love disappear from her life for a second time.
At least, not without a fight.
Striding to the door, she pushed through the people still crowded in the hallway.
“Step back, everybody,” Kenny said. “Hope’s on the warpath.”
The men and women hurried to get out of her way. Still, by the time Faith got through the sea of townspeople, Slate was already halfway across the dance floor.
“Slate!”
He didn’t even break stride, and she was forced to sprint to catch up with him. She grabbed the back of his western shirt, but he only pulled her along behind, the slick soles of Hope’s borrowed cowboy boots sliding across the wooden dance floor.
“Slate, wait.”
“Let go, Faith.”
“No!” Her grip tightened, and her heels dug in. There was a loud rip as his shirt tore. And finally he stopped and turned to her, his eyes emotionless and terrifying.
“What do you want, Faith?”
She tried to smile, but her lips quivered. “You asked me that before, and the answer hasn’t changed.”
“I believe, at the time, we were talking about sex.”
Someone in the crowd snickered, and Faith blushed, but she refused to back down. “You’re right, we were. And I want that, too.”
One golden brow lifted. “Too?”
It was so much easier to be tough when she wasn’t looking into a pair of eyes the color of her world. Lowering her gaze, she stared at the pearl snaps of his shirt and tried to organize her thoughts into coherent words. But with her heart jarring up against her ribs and her palm sweating through the cotton of his sleeve, she couldn’t be eloquent.
All she could be was truthful.
“I know you’re upset because you think I didn’t trust you. But it wasn’t about trusting you as much as it was about trusting myself—or, at least, trusting my heart. All my life I’ve tried to make other people happy. I guess the need to please the people I love has always been stronger than the need to please myself.” She took a deep, quivery breath. “And when I discovered Hope was pregnant”—there was an audible gasp, but too much was at stake for Faith to notice—“I figured leaving was the best thing to do—after all, an entire town couldn’t be wrong.”
“Hope’s what—” Slate started, but Faith refused to get sidetracked.
“It doesn’t matter. Because I don’t care if my twin sister, who I so desperately want to love me, suffers a broken heart—or if the entire town thinks you two should be together—or if you and Hope really are more compatible. I don’t care about anyone or anything. Because after thirty years, I am finally going to listen to my heart and go after what I want.”
“Which is?” Slate asked, drawing Faith’s gaze up to eyes that no longer looked so vacant and defeated.
She released her breath. “I want red shoes—lots and lots of red shoes.”
“Shoes?” A woman right behind her spoke. “Did she say shoes?”
“And I want pink lipstick—a drawer filled with it. And tight jeans and… I want pets—a lot of pets. Like a Labradoodle who is sturdy enough to withstand my coddling.”
“What the hell’s a Labradoodle?” someone asked.
A sparkle entered Slate’s beautiful eyes, prompting her
to continue. “And I want to be a teacher and live in a small town.”
“Now there’s something we can finally agree with,” another person said.
“And I want a truck with a long bench seat for snuggling. And a front-row seat at Bramble High football games.”
“The girl has good taste,” a man piped up.
“But most of all I want to spend my days with a gifted coach—and my nights with a loving cowboy.” Tears moved to the back of her throat, making it difficult to talk. “Even if that cowboy doesn’t love me as much as I love him. I just want to be near him—to watch him coach his kids and build his home. And that’s why I came back. Not for my sister. Or my parents. Or even for you.” She rested a hand on her chest. “I came back for me—for my heart’s desire.”
There was a chorus of “ahs” and “ain’t that sweet.” But Faith wasn’t interested in what the town thought; she was only interested in what the man before her thought. Thankfully, he didn’t waste any time letting her know.
One second Slate was staring down at her, and the next he gulped a big breath of air and tugged her up in his arms.
“Well, that’s just fine with me, darlin’.” He pulled back and looked down at her, his eyes sparkling. “Because you’re my heart’s desire and have been ever since you kissed me and knocked off my hat.” Then he gave her the world. “I love you, Faith.”
“I love you, too, Slate.” She tipped her head up for a kiss. But before his lips touched hers, a large fist came out of nowhere. And Faith watched in disbelief as Slate’s head snapped back, then popped forward.
He wobbled in place for a few seconds before he regained his balance and held a hand to his eye. “What the hell, Burl?”
“What the hell!” Her father took a step closer, his eyes bugging from a face suffused with anger. “You hit my daughter, and you ask me what the hell? Jenna, get my gun from the truck!”
“No!” Faith finally recovered from her shock enough to step in between the two men. “He didn’t hit me!”
Burl looked confused for only a second, before his eyes narrowed again. “Jenna, get my gun.”
“Now, Burl,” her mother said, stepping up. “You can’t shoot Slate—at least not until after the play-offs.”
“I don’t intend to kill him,” Burl said through his teeth.
“Oh.” Jenna glared at Slate before she turned and pushed her way through the crowd.
“Didn’t you hear me?” Faith asked. “Slate didn’t hit me.” She couldn’t believe he would actually shoot Slate, but stranger things had happened in that town.
Burl pulled his attention away from Slate and turned it on Faith. His gaze halted on her nose, and his jaw tightened. “I’ll get to you later, Little Miss. After the way you ran off and scared your mama and me, you’ll be getting a piece of me soon enough. Now step out of the way.”
Since Burl had never shown any kind of anger toward her, Faith almost obeyed. But her fear for Slate’s safety overrode her usual compliance. “I’m not going to let you hit Slate again. Especially when he didn’t deserve it in the first place.”
“It’s all right, darlin’.” Slate moved her out of the way. “This is between me and your daddy.”
“You’re damned right it is,” Burl growled. “My daughter
left without saying a word and then comes back with a broken nose. Why, I should beat you within an inch of your life and then shoot you.”
Slate didn’t say anything, nor did he look like he was going to back down.
“Stop this,” Faith said. “Slate didn’t hit me.”
“Then who did?” both Slate and Burl asked at the same time.
Not wanting to throw her sister under the bus, she hedged. “It doesn’t matter who did it, it wasn’t Slate.” Her eyes widened as Burl reached for the very large gun Jenna had returned with.
“Mama!” The word just sort of popped out of Faith’s mouth. Jenna lit up like the floodlights on Bubba’s truck. Unfortunately, it didn’t make her side with Faith.
“Now, Faith, honey, don’t worry your head over it. Burl will only wing him, and he deserves a lot worse for hittin’ you.”
“But he didn’t hit me!”
“Now, nobody believes that.” Her mother patted her arm. “Not with the way you love Slate. Lovesick women, regardless of how stupid it is, have a tendency to protect their men.”
Faith opened her mouth, but before anything came out, Hope shoved her way through the crowd, followed by Shirlene.
“Does it look like your stupid plan worked, Shirl?” Hope hopped up on the dance floor next to Burl.
“Now don’t go making judgments, Hog, until we have the facts.” Shirlene looked at Burl. “Are we having a shotgun weddin’?”
“Slate hit Faith,” Jenna explained.
“No, he didn’t,” Shirlene said, although it was hard to hear her over Hope’s loud laughter.
When Hope finally stopped, she sent Burl a saucy grin. “Slate didn’t hit her, Daddy. I did.”
“You did what?” Burl yelled.
“Don’t freak out. It was an accident—yow!” She rubbed her arm where Jenna had reached out and pinched it.
Jenna poked a finger in her face. “How many times do I have to tell you, young lady? We don’t hit family.”
“No,” Hope fumed. “We just point guns at close friends.”
Burl lowered the gun. “Sorry about that, Slate.”
“No harm done, Burl. I should be able to see in another month or so.” Slate tentatively touched his eye before he glanced over at Hope. “I should’ve known you were behind this charade, Hog.”
“Well, you’re wrong. The entire switching-places idea was Shirlene’s.”
Shirlene looked expectantly at Slate. “Please tell me it worked, Slate. Or I’ll never hear the end of it.”
Slate’s gaze traveled to Faith. “If your plan was to get me to tell Faith that I love her”—he smiled a heart-melting smile—“then it worked.”
A mutter of confusion broke out in the crowd.
“Love Faith? I thought he loved Hope.”
“ ’Course he loves Hope. He just told her.”
“But that’s not Hope, that’s Faith.”
“So he loves Faith, too?”
“Well, maybe he’s hopin’ for a little twin action before he gets married.”
Faith couldn’t keep the smile off her face as she looked up at Slate. “So are you going to tell them?”
He groaned, but turned to the crowd. “There’s something I need to make clear to y’all. Something I should’ve made clear a long time ago.” He cleared his throat. “I’m not marrying Hope. Hope and I are just friends.” He glanced over at Hope, and his eyes narrowed. “Friends who need to have a good long talk.”
Hope shook her head. “Sorry, cowboy, but I’m all talked out.”
Slate frowned, but stayed on course. “And I realize I shouldn’t have let y’all go on believing that we were more than that. I guess I didn’t want to disappoint the folks of Bramble, seeing as how I pretty much consider y’all my family.”
The look of contentment and pride on each face was easy to read as Harley stepped up.
“Why, you could never disappoint us, Slate. And don’t you worry about the weddin’ preparations. The pig centerpieces can go back into storage, the inside of the town hall looks great painted purple, and the silk flowers Darla can use on next year’s homecomin’ float. Of course, I don’t know what we’ll do with the weddin’ dress.”
A cocky smile slipped over Slate’s face as he reached out and tucked Faith under his arm. “Actually, Harley, I’ve been thinking about that.”
“O
H,
S
WEET
L
ORD.
” Jenna stepped into the room, her eyes filling with tears. “You look so beautiful, honey.”
“Thank you, Mama,” Faith said. “It’s the dress.”
Jenna wiped at her eyes with the tissue she’d held in her hand ever since entering the church. “No, it ain’t. It’s the woman wearing it.”
Faith turned back to the mirror and wondered if her mother wasn’t right. She did look prettier than she ever had. The bruises were gone, the bump on her nose barely noticeable, her blue eyes sparkled, and her cheeks were flushed with excitement and a little bit of nerves.
Still, the dress didn’t hurt. Instead of the nightmarish purple and gold creation Darla had made, Faith wore the simple dress her mother had been married in—a floor-length, antique-white gown with three tiers of aged lace and a wide satin ribbon that tied just beneath the bodice. On her feet, she wore off-white cowboy boots with inlaid red hearts running up the sides—a wedding gift from Slate, along with two tickets to an all-inclusive Mexican resort.
Of course, they couldn’t go until after the Dawgs took state. And with the way her life had been going, Faith had little doubt that they would.
The door flew open, and Hope clomped in, cussing as she tripped over the purple satin hem of her dress. “This isn’t funny, you know.” She flopped down in the chair across from the mirror and hooked a leg over the arm, the stiff petticoats forcing the hideous purple satin almost to her chin. “This is the most god-awful dress I’ve ever seen.”
“Hush now, Hope. We don’t want to hurt Darla’s feelings.” Jenna closed the door.
“Which is the only reason I agreed to wear it.” She tugged up the strapless bodice. “But I don’t know why Shirlene couldn’t have worn it.”
“Because Shirlene is too busty, and Jenna Jay and Tessa are too tall.”
“Are you saying I’m short and flat-chested, Mama?” Hope attempted to tug out a purple silk rose from her bouquet, but Darla’s super-industrial-strength hot glue was tug-proof.