Jack fought the urge to hum a tune. He didn’t want to examine why helping her made him happier than anything in a long time. And why was he helping her? He had to be in his hometown in five hours. Beauchamp, Louisiana was a three-hour trip from Zachsville, so he didn’t have all day to get Luanne home and then on the road. It’s not like he could call and say he wouldn’t be there to present the scholarship he’d created in his mother’s name.

From the corner of his eye, he saw his passenger fidgeting. “You doing okay over there, Luanne?”

“As fine as I can be stuffed into this huge dress and tiny sports car. What exactly are you compensating for with this vehicle, Jack?”

“Not a thing, Thumbelina. Not. A. Thing.” He flashed her the smile, the one that worked with every woman but her.

She rolled her eyes. “That’s what they all say, pretty boy. Just get me home in one piece, please.”

“Alright, but you’re no fun.”

His Porsche 911 ate up the twenty miles between the wedding venue and Luanne’s house. He tried not to speed, but, please, in this car it was a crime to go the speed limit.

“So what’s your plan?” He watched in fascination as she peeled false eyelashes from her lids.

She shrugged. “I don’t have one past gettin’ away from Zachsville.”

“What about your law practice?”

“I’ve cleared my case load for the next month. We’d planned a three-week honeymoon in Europe. So I have some time to figure out what I’m going to do.” She played with the eyelashes she’d removed. They looked like two caterpillars resting in the palm of her hand.

“You gonna tell me why you’re running?”

The look she gave him nearly put him in the grave. “No offense, but I’m not spilling my secrets to you, Jack.”

He chuckled. “Why do people always start a sentence with no offense when they’re about to say something offensive? Besides, that was our deal.” He smoothed his hand over the top of the steering wheel. “Tell me. I’m kind of a neutral party. It might help.”

“I doubt it. But if you must know, I caught Doug with another woman right before you found me.”

“You must be heartbroken.”

“I’m devastated,” she said on a tiny sob, then turned to look out the window.

Bullshit. Oh, she was upset alright, but somehow he knew it had nothing to do with that idiot she was supposed to marry. If she didn’t want to talk about it, that was her business. He might be unhealthily fascinated with her, but whatever was going on with her was messy, and he didn’t do messy.

Then she swiped a tiny tear from her cheek, and he was a goner.

Damn. Apparently he did do messy with this woman.

* * *

Luanne grabbed the top of the monstrosity she was wearing, and readjusted it. “I’ve got to get out of this dress. You can’t believe how uncomfortable this thing is.”

“It’s not the type of dress you said you—”

“No! We will never speak of that.” She held her hand up between them. “Do you hear me, Jack Avery? Never.”

“I’ve wanted to talk to you—”

“I mean it, Jack. No more.”

“I’m sorry I—”

“I’m warning you, Jack.”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

“Oh, my Lord, you’re not going to stop until I talk about the single most mortifying night of my life. Are you, asshole?” She threw her arms open. “Go ahead, Jack, complete my humiliation.” She knew it would probably be best to clear the air between them and purge the entire event from her life. But the thought of reliving that night was more than she could take today.

“That’s not what I’m trying to do. I’m just saying, I understand. You had too much to drink and said some things that were…a little out of character.”

She buried her face in her hands and groaned. “Please stop talking.”

“Fine. But it wasn’t that big of a deal.”

That was total crap, and they both knew it. It was a huge deal. One that made him lay skid marks from her front door to the end of her street. “Can we talk about something else, please?”

“Sure, let’s talk about that loser Doug Divan. You really dodged a bullet with that one.”

She picked up a St. Christopher medal from the console and examined it. “I’m afraid to ask, but why do you say that?”

“Do I have to spell it out?” He plucked the medal from her hand and slipped it into his coat pocket.

Whatever. She didn’t want to see his stupid charm anyway. “I guess so, because I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Your name would’ve been Luanne Divan and darlin’ you would’ve lost any and all street cred with a name like that.” He snuck a peek at his watch.

“Good point.” It had never occurred to her what the two names might sound like together, since she’d never intended to take Doug’s name.

“Actually, it’s that weasel who dodged the bullet.” He laughed. “You would’ve chewed him up and used his bones to build yourself a new shoe closet.”

He was right. It was the most appealing thing about her ex-fiancé. She would’ve run the show, exactly the way she liked it. “Never underestimate the appeal of a finely constructed shoe closest, Jack. Women have married and killed for less.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Can I stop you?” She gave him her man-eater stare but knew it wouldn’t stop him.

“Why would you ever consider marrying him?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

She picked at one of the many ruffles on her dress. “It was my father’s idea.”

His look of confusion almost made her laugh. She understood. Why would an intelligent, professional woman let her father choose the man she would marry in this day and age?

“He…ah…” How to explain this without sounding completely pathetic? She may as well tell him the same lie she’d been telling herself for the last six months. “He was concerned about me and wanted to make sure there would be someone to take care of me after he was gone.”

“Ha!” Jack’s bark of laughter boomed through the car. “Why in the world would he think you needed someone to take care of you? You’re the most capable woman I’ve ever met.” He turned off the highway onto the main drag of her little town.

Happy sparks sizzled and popped in her chest at his high praise. “Thank—”

“For that matter, why would you think you needed someone to take care of you? Or was it about that thing I’m not allowed to talk about?”

“Oh for the love of… No, Jack, it’s not about that.” Thank God, they were almost to her house.

One more mile and he’d need that St. Christopher medallion as protection against her.