Luanne dabbed at the cut near Jack’s hairline with a wet paper towel, while he griped and moaned. Her patient sat on the closed toilet lid of the gas station restroom they’d pulled into as soon as they were out of town. The smell was almost as bad as his complaining. Almost.

“Ouch. That big son-of-a-bitch has a nasty left hook.”

“I don’t think you need stitches. A Band-Aid should work.” She rifled through the plastic grocery bag from the convenience store and pulled out some antibacterial ointment and Band-Aids. “Hold still.”

“Damn it, that stings. Are you sure you got the right thing?”

She held the tube in front of his face. “It’s the right thing. Don’t be such a baby. Now, put that bag of frozen peas on your jaw and let me handle this.”

“What the hell happened back there?”

“I don’t know. Tank said he was supposed to keep me there until my dad arrived.” The bitter reality soured her gut. It clogged her throat and reduced her words to a whisper. “I knew my father wanted this wedding, but I never dreamed he’d try to force me to marry Doug.”

“That’s seriously screwed up.”

“I guess since he arranged the whole thing he’s bound and determined to see it happen.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” She wasn’t talking to Jack about her screwed-up relationship with her father.

Her hands shook as she opened the bandage box. He wrapped his warm fingers around hers. “Hey, it’s okay. We’re out of town and pretty soon you’ll be a whole state away.”

She nodded. She couldn’t trust her voice. It was all so surreal, and the fact that Jack was the one who’d saved her was almost too much to deal with. She now owed him for two huge things. It made her itchy and irritable. Nothing good ever came from owing anyone anything. The bandage went on and she began cleaning up the supplies. “You pretty much got your ass kicked, Jackie Boy.”

“You saw me take him down, right?”

“Yeah, after I helped you.”

“You looked like a rabid marshmallow.”

They both laughed.

She grabbed the sweetheart neckline of her dress and yanked it back into place. I’ve got to get out of this dress.”

“I could help with that.” He tried to waggle his brow and winced.

“Shut up, Jack.”

“You’re no fun, Thumbelina.”

His comment rolled off of her—a sure sign of how stressed she was. What was she going to do? She didn’t have her ID or wallet. She had no car, no clothes and no way to get any of those things. “Can I borrow your phone?”

“Sure.” He dug it from his pocket and handed it to her.

She scrolled through his contacts. “You don’t have Scarlett’s number?”

“No. If I need Gavin I call him, not his wife. Besides, Gavin would kick my ass if I called to chat with his wife.”

“Okay. I guess I’ll call Gavin.”

She pulled up his contact info and dialed. It rang, then she heard his voice say, “Hey—”

“Gavin, thank—”

“You’ve reached my cell. Leave a message at the tone. If this is my wife, I’m thinking dirty thoughts about you.” Beeeeeep.

“Oh, brother.”

Jack peered into the mirror, inspecting Luanne’s handiwork. “You get his voice mail?”

“Yes. They’re ridiculous.”

“I know. That boy is whipped.” He gingerly poked at a bruise on his temple. “Good luck getting him to call you back. He never checks his messages. You should text him.”

“Good idea.” While she typed out a text, she couldn’t help but notice that even after a fight Jack still looked like he could model for GQ. “They’re both whipped. The best thing about Gavlett,” the name the two of them had given Gavin and Scarlett, “is Aiden. That kid’s a hoot.”

Jack smiled at her in the mirror. “He is. He called me a tooty head the other day.”

She grinned. “Smart boy.”

“Geez, let’s get out of here. It’s like a smelly sauna.” He grabbed his jacket from the hook on the door and opened it for her.

After the fetid stench of the bathroom, the motor oil and gas saturated air of the convenience store parking lot smelled like heaven.

She dialed Gavin’s number a second time and left a message for Scarlett to call her on Jack’s phone. There was no telling how long it would take her friend to call her back. She knew what she had to do, and it just about killed her to do it. “Jack?”

He turned to her. “Yeah?”

She chewed her lip. Her stomach rolled and flopped. “Can I borrow some money?”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

“I’ll pay you back. I mean, I’m good for it. It’s only that I couldn’t get my purse or anything and I don’t have any money on me.” She held her hands out to prove she wasn’t hiding a purse or money bag.

He unwrapped a piece of gum and popped it into his mouth. “I know. How much do you need?”

She was shocked. He wasn’t going to make her work for it? Had Tank hit him harder than she thought? “I don’t know. Not much. I only need some clothes. Nothing fancy, though.”

“Hold on.” He jogged into the store.

She could see him talking to the clerk and the clerk pointing this way and that. A minute later he jogged back up to the car. “Get in.”

“What were you doing?”

“Asking the guy if there was a shopping center in this Podunk town.”

“I don’t need a shopping center, just a small shop where I can get something to cover my body other than this dress.”

“Good. Because there isn’t a shopping center, but there is a Charity Mart.” He opened the car door. “Ever been there?”

“No, have you?” No way Jack in his tailored suits and gazillion dollar sports cars had ever been to Charity Mart.

“You haven’t lived until you’ve bought an entire secondhand outfit, a television, and a push lawnmower from a thrift store.”

* * *

Jack perused the aisle of the Lido, Texas, Charity Mart. After he’d begun making money at sixteen, he vowed he’d never step foot into a thrift store again. Everything about this place screamed desperation to him. Maybe he was projecting, because that’s how he’d felt all those years ago when this was the only place his mother shopped.

It had all been fine until the day Paul Sanders, an older boy in middle school, noticed Jack wearing one of his old shirts. It was one of Jack’s favorites, a Dallas Cowboys football jersey with Troy Aikman’s name and signature on it. Unfortunately, he hadn’t noticed that Troy had autographed it to Paul.

The whole experience had been horrible. For one thing, he never knew they were truly poor until that moment. It’d crushed something inside him. For another, he’d been talking to Laurie Teagan when Paul made his announcement. Twenty years later and he could still feel the hot pricks of mortification on his face.

The only good thing to come from that nightmare was the discovery of his superpower. Even though he was dying of embarrassment inside, he’d grinned at Paul and said, “I’m sure it looked good on you, but it looks better on me.” There was a moment of stunned silence, then Paul laughed, ruffled Jack’s hair, and said, “You’re alright, kid.” After that he became the older kid’s official mascot, because he was funny, charming, and hid every negative emotion he’d ever had.

He’d learned a valuable lesson that day. It doesn’t matter if you’re dying on the inside, it’s what people see on the outside that matters. Charm may be deceitful, but it’s the best weapon to have in your arsenal.

Exhaustion grabbed at him and he rubbed an ache at the base of his skull. The remaining adrenaline from the fight pulsed through his veins and made his head hurt. He hadn’t acted that out of control since…well, never. Not even in high school when Chuck Waverly hit on his girlfriend right in front of his face. He’d wanted to beat the shit out of the rich mama’s boy, but he’d only plastered on a cocky grin, shrugged, and said, “Take her if you want her.” It almost killed him, but if everyone knew how he really felt about Staci Adair, then he’d appear weak, and weak and poor were a socially deadly combination.

Plus, going after Chuck probably wouldn’t have done any good anyway. It was only a matter of time before Staci, the love of his young life, was lured away by Chuck’s convertible and fancy dinners. He’d only accelerated the inevitable. No way could he have competed with that back then. He brushed his finger over the fringe of a woman’s poncho and wished Chuck and Staci could see him now.

He caught a glimpse of himself in a five-dollar gold-framed mirror that his mother would’ve snatched up in a heartbeat. Older, wiser, and more successful, he’d made something of himself, damn it. He’d constructed a life anyone would envy. Not a normal life, because who wanted normal, but an exceptional life. One that didn’t resemble his poverty-stricken childhood and was blessedly drama free. Sure, his clients had boatloads of drama, but that was their shit. He was in total control of his life.

Well he had been until a few hours ago, when he’d let his…curiosity? lust? heart? get the best of him and gone after a sexy pixie. Now, he’d lost all control and had a starring role in a runaway bride drama.

He examined the dressing room door that hid the source of his troubles. “You doin’ alright in there, Luanne?”

“I’m fine. I can’t believe all the stuff you can get here. Some of these clothes have barely been worn.” She waved a blouse over the top of the door. “This is a Michael Kors blouse, it’s missing a button, but with some needle and thread it would be perfect, and it’s only five dollars.”

He shook his head and grinned. She sounded just like his mother.

Look at these shoes, Jack. They’ve barely been worn.

This jacket is nice. Yes, it has a little rip in it, but I can sew that right up.

There’s not a thing wrong with this bike, nothin’ a little air in the tires and spray paint won’t fix.

“Yeah, it can be a real treasure trove of gently used things.” And a bottomless pit of self-loathing.

“I know. I found this Ralph Lauren dress. I don’t even need a dress, but for $9.99, I can’t say no.”

Why did hearing the glee in her voice make his heart speed up? “You enjoy spending my money. I feel like a sugar daddy.”

She snorted. “A low-rent sugar daddy.”

“You wound me, Luanne.”

The lock clicked and the door cracked open, revealing her beautiful face. “Ha. Yeah, right. I think your gigantic ego can handle it.”

He caught a glimpse of the creamy skin across her shoulder and his mouth watered. “Having trouble with that zipper?”

“Yes. Stupid thing got stuck.” She turned her back to him. “Can you help me?”

It was time he shook off the sad-sack memories of the past and focused on the perfect distraction the universe had given him. “Sure.”

“Thanks…what are you doing?”

“I’m coming in.” He shoved into the dressing room and slid the lock into place. “Unless you want the whole store to see your naked backside.”

“Jack.” There was a warning in her voice that he probably should listen to, but something about this woman made him reckless as hell.

“Turn around, Luanne.” He almost lost it when her bare back came into view. It was a playground he wanted to explore. “No bra?” The words barely made it past dry vocal chords.

“I only had a strapless for the dress and it cuts into me, so I took it off.” Did she sound a little breathy too?

The zipper sank to a tantalizing depth. Twin indentations on either side of her spine appeared right above a tiny scrap of white lace. Lace that enveloped a perfect ass and hid delights he’d only ever been able to dream about. The recklessness raging through him traveled south. Great, now his other brain was fully onboard this ill-advised course. His thoughts scrambled until he stopped thinking altogether. “Good decision.”

He took a hold of the rough metal zipper and grazed her soft, creamy flesh. Warmth pulsed through his body and he quickly abandoned the idea of covering her up. Lost in a blast of desire, he trailed a finger up her spine, the velvety path, the sexiest thing he’d explored in a long time.

Gooseflesh broke out on her skin. “Jack?”

This was madness. He should stop. But no amount of money in the world could’ve made him walk out of that dressing room. Luanne stood stock still. Their eyes met in the mirror. Hers were dilated and bright with desire, and he knew his were too.

She licked her lips. “I—”

“Shh.” He tunneled his fingers through her hair and bent to kiss between her shoulders. She smelled like the worst and best decision he’d ever made wrapped in a candy coating. Electricity shot to his groin. He had to taste her.

He flicked his tongue out and groaned. Everything about this crazy, independent, fierce woman drove him insane and the decadence of her skin was no exception. Unable to stop, he sank his teeth into the side of her neck. Not enough to hurt, but enough to telegraph exactly what he’d like to do to her.

She tilted her head to give him better access. “You like that?” he breathed across her skin.

“Mmmm.”

“I can make you feel—”

“Sir.” Knock, knock, knock. “Sir, you can’t be in there. We’ve had some complaints.”

Luanne jerked up and whacked his chin with her head. Hard. The room tilted and spun, he saw stars, then he slid down the wall.

His last thought was Damn it, I hate Charity Mart.