Ross Campbell was an angel, Callie decided there and then. Not only did he simply bundle her back into the SUV without a word, but he asked no questions, expressed no opinion as he turned off his emergency lights and pulled into the square, taking the road to head out of Riverbend.

Manny, on the other hand, had no such compunctions. “What the hell happened? Is the dude still alive? Or did he get cold feet?”

“Manny,” Ross rumbled, but Callie shook her head.

“It’s all right. It’ll be in all the papers tomorrow. Devon got tired of waiting, and he left, that’s all.” Heat from rage and humiliation filled her. “I’ll call him, and fix it.” She glanced at Ross, whose hands remained firmly on the wheel. “You don’t really have to drive me all the way home, Ross. I know you have better things to do. Drop me anywhere, and I’ll call someone to come get me.”

Ross’s fleeting blue gaze landed on her. “I’m not leaving you like that in the rain. You still live at your parents’ house?”

“Yeah. I do.”

Everyone in Riverbend knew which house it was and where it lay. Callie didn’t have to bother with directions.

Manny leaned forward. “Aw, that sucks. He sucks. Your fiancé, I mean, not Ross. Hey, I know what you should do. Take Ross somewhere and have great revenge sex. You know, serious down-and-dirty—”

“Manny.” Ross’s neck flushed red, and he clenched the steering wheel.

“I know, I know. Button it.” Manny flung himself into the seat, falling silent. Not for long. He started to hum.

Ross said absolutely nothing. Callie raked tears from her face and took a deep breath.

For some reason, deep down, she wasn’t surprised that Devon had stormed off. He’d done it before, the last time at a Dallas restaurant when Callie was delayed getting into town. It had taken her days to calm him down from that.

On the church porch, Montana had given Callie a guilt-stricken look and said, “I promise, I thought Evelyn was picking you up. I swear to God.”

Evelyn, Callie’s second-oldest sister, had cut in. “No, we decided, remember? You were supposed to.”

Trina, Callie’s best friend from Dallas, had hovered behind the sisters. “I’m so sorry, Cal. You know how Devon gets. You should have let me drive you.”

Devon’s mother had stood a little way from them, a fierce glare on her face. The That’s what my son gets when he tries to marry countrified trash, kind of look.

Callie’s own mother had gazed at her in profound sadness, tears in her eyes. It was her mom’s tears, her true sympathy and understanding, that made Callie turn and run. She’d have lost it completely if she’d stayed.

Ross, with her only connection to him their mutual high school and seeing him around town, was neutral and non-judgmental. He’d neither condemn her nor go to pieces.

He did look a little pissed off, probably because of Manny’s remarks about revenge sex. Ross breathed fast, and he gripped the steering wheel as though he wanted to arrest it.

But wouldn’t it be nice to take Manny’s advice? Devon’s disapproving face filled her mind, and Callie could hear his voice—Callie, you know you do this all the time. It’s got to stop.

Right now, she’d love to erase Devon’s censure by being alone in a room with Ross, ripping the buttons from his oh-so-pressed uniform shirt, wrapping her arms around him, lifting herself to his firm line of mouth to open it with her tongue …

The vision was so vivid that her temperature spiked. She imagined his smooth shirt, the warmth of the man inside, the incredible strength she’d already experienced when Ross had steadied her. She dug her hands into her ridiculous skirt to keep from reaching for him.

What the hell was wrong with her? She was supposed to be devastated, brokenhearted, bewildered.

Well, bewildered was definitely the case. Why the hell had Devon decided to make a scene on their wedding day? She had no doubt he’d been angry—he’d said months ago that her chronic lateness wasn’t cute anymore.

The last time had been when the housekeeper’s husband collapsed at his office and had to be rushed to the hospital. Callie was happy to drive the distraught woman to be with him, hence her lateness to Dallas and the restaurant. Devon, the pig, had wondered why she’d bothered to help the help.

That should have been a clue, Callie knew, though Devon had pretended he was joking at the time.

Why had she thought everything would be all right once she got married? She’d have her own house—Devon’s house—hang out with Trina, and begin her job at the ranch outside McKinney, where they would rehab rescue horses and either found them new homes or determined that they were too far gone and let them pass peacefully. Callie loved the woman who owned the ranch, and was eager to start, even if Devon’s best friend—Trina’s husband, Brett—had said he’d never want a wife who smelled like horse shit all the time.

The four of them—Trina, Brett, Devon, and Callie—had laughed. Another joke, right?

“What is wrong with me?” The words burst out before Callie could stop them. This was not the time to have a huge princess rant, but damn, Devon was being a total asshole.

“Nothing wrong with you,” Ross said with conviction. “Your fiancé’s the one who should be twisted into a knot and bounced down the road.”

“With his dick cut off,” Manny put in with vicious glee.

Callie choked on a laugh and pressed a hand to her mouth. “Quit. I’ll start to cry.” Tears burned her eyes.

“My advice is, don’t call him,” Ross said. The drumming of rain on the roof wasn’t so loud as the rain slackened once more. “Make him come crawling back to you.”

“On his ass,” Manny added.

“What I mean is,” Ross cut through Manny’s words. “You have nothing to apologize for. He does. You were late, through no fault of your own. He got impatient and deserted you—at your wedding. Huge difference. He’s the one who should beg for forgiveness.”

His tone was harsh, and Callie looked at him in surprise. “You sound like this has happened before.” To him, maybe?

Ross shook his head. “Not this exact thing, but I’ve seen a lot of people get into it. As soon as you make another person’s behavior your fault, they have their fist around you. Pretty soon you’re taking the blame for every little thing, and that can escalate into a bad situation very fast.”

“He knows what he’s talking about,” Manny said. “Happened to my mom and dad, except my dad was the one under my mom’s thumb. Now he’s just a useless drunk.”

Callie’s anger eased as she softened in compassion for Manny. Being left at the altar was shitty and humiliating, and she’d hear about it the rest of her life in this small town, but at least she had a loving family in which to recover. She’d not grown up with the grimness she saw in Manny’s and Ross’s faces.

“Don’t worry,” she said, directing her words to both of them. “I won’t call Devon.”

Callie suddenly never wanted to speak to the man again. She’d thought it would be so much fun to marry the best friend of her best friend’s husband. They were inseparable, a team. At first, it had been wonderful. Her sisters loved Trina but didn’t intrude on the friendship. They’d liked Brett and Devon. Trina had been thrilled when Devon had asked Callie to marry him.

Then slowly, gradually, both Devon and Brett had started turning into dickheads. Maybe they always had been, and Callie had been too busy with her Dallas job and planning the ranch to notice.

They passed the stretch of road where Callie’s tire had decided to blow, and she’d ended up in the ditch. The Mercedes was gone, but the troughs in the grass she’d plowed up remained.

“K.D. picked up your car,” Ross said. “He’s the best mechanic in the county. Has his shop on the Fredericksburg highway.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen it.”

Callie couldn’t worry about her car right now—that would come later. Right now, she needed to get home. She’d take a calming shower and then head out to the barn where her real friends were. She always felt better around horses. They didn’t care who she married or whether she’d been left in the rain, embarrassed in front of everyone she’d grown up with plus strangers from Dallas with spite in their eyes.

After another rainy five miles, Ross slowed unerringly at the arched gateway that led to the Jones ranch. He turned without sliding on the wet pavement and navigated the mile-long muddy drive with ease.

“Holy shit!” Manny said in awe as the house came into view. “You live here?”

The white monolith of Callie’s family home rose from a vast green lawn, the house’s many windows and black shutters a popular design when it had been built in 1845. The drive curved to the front door, running under a two-story portico supported by massive columns. A huge black square lantern that hung from a long chain in the center of the portico had lit the way into the house for generations. In the past, candle flame had welcomed guests; now it was LEDs.

“It’s like the house in that movie,” Manny breathed. “What’s it called? Gone with the Wind.”

“Same era,” Callie said. “Pre Civil War.”

“I think my dad’s trailer was built back then too,” Manny said.

His joke evoked Callie’s sympathy once more. “Then you’ll know that living in a two-hundred year old house isn’t as romantic as it sounds. We’re always fixing something.”

“Yeah, so are we.”

Ross pulled smoothly to a halt under the portico, the drive empty of cars, as everyone thankfully was still in town. Ross shot a warning look at Manny before he got out, strode around to Callie’s side, and as he had at the church, gallantly opened the door for her.

The touch of his hand as he helped her out had Callie drawing a quick breath before the caring look in his eyes made that breath vanish.

Callie jerked her hand away as though it burned and hurried to the front door. Her keys were now either in K.D.’s auto shop or with the deputy Ross had called, but that was no worry. She shoved her skirts out of the way, moved the rock behind the bench on the porch, and pulled out a key.

“That’s dangerous,” Ross admonished.

“But seriously handy.” Callie put the key into the lock and turned it, hearing the click echo through the empty house.

“Hide it somewhere else from now on. Manny saw you.”

Callie glanced at Ross in surprise then at the SUV from which Manny watched avidly. “You think he’d rob us? He doesn’t look much like a criminal.”

“He was my first arrest,” Ross said as Callie pushed open the front door to reveal a grand foyer with a black-and-white tiled floor and a staircase that rose gracefully to the upper stories. “Manny was ten, but that wasn’t our last rodeo. He’s not a bad kid—he just gets in with the wrong people, and they offer him money to steal cars, break into places, whatever. Manny needs the money because his dad hasn’t held onto a job in years—he wasn’t lying when he said his dad was always drunk. Whenever child protection services come sniffing around, his dad cleans up his act and plays the part of the worried but virtuous father until they go away again. Manny doesn’t want to leave his dad—he loves him and thinks he’s taking care of him.”

Callie leaned against the doorframe, her skirt filling up most of the space, the tulle pressing Ross’s legs.

“Are you really going to take him to jail?” she asked. Talking about Manny was a hell of a lot safer than talking about herself.

“No.” Ross let out a breath. “I’ll let him go, but I’ll keep an eye on him. I need him to shape up, though, and soon, or it will be too late for me to help him.”

Callie couldn’t stop her smile. “You’re a good person, Ross Campbell.”

“That’s what people think, anyway.” He paused. “Callie.”

She’d started to turn away, but when Ross said her name in his deep voice, she quickly turned back.

He hadn’t moved, or reached for her, but he pinned her in place with only a look. “If you need to talk, call me. I mean it.” Ross took a card from the heavy belt that housed his gun and cuffs and held it out to her between blunt fingers.

She saw his name and title in tasteful brown-gold print, along with the logo of the River County Sheriff’s Department. The phone number on it couldn’t be his personal one, Callie reasoned as she took it. He meant she should call him at his office.

Callie slid her thumb across the card, liking the bumps of his embossed name. “Are you saying a guy wants to listen to a girl whine about her problems?”

Ross’s grin returned, the one that warmed like a thousand suns. “I have four sisters-in-law, a niece, and a mom. I’m used to it.” His smile died. “Seriously. What you’re going through isn’t something you can shrug off. And sometimes family is too close.”

He wrapped his hand around hers, closing her fingers over the card.

Callie’s throat went dry, and her chest constricted. She tried to draw a breath, but her lungs no longer worked.

Ross’s hand was hot, callused, strong. The touch of it ignited feelings it had no business igniting. Callie’s vivid imagination called up sensations of Ross’s touch on her body, his hard palm on her breast then a slow glide down her belly, moving further to cup between her thighs.

Callie gulped, and air sailed into her to make her dizzy. The doorframe, thank heavens, held her up, or her melting knees would have dropped her to the floor.

Reaction. Must be. She was upset about Devon and the wedding—her entire life—and Ross was standing close, warming her. Her knight in shining armor, the one who’d saved her from hell and brought her to safety. Normal to want to jump his bones, she reasoned.

But Ross was simply being nice, helping out an old acquaintance. They’d grown up in the same town, shared a bond.

Ross would go back to work, Callie would fix this disaster, and she wouldn’t see Ross again. Maybe in passing when she went into Riverbend, but nothing more.

Mostly, Callie planned to stay home and grow old until everyone forgot about her and her humiliating almost-wedding.

She needed wine.

She jerked her hand from Ross’s, and he released her without a word. He’d meant nothing by his touch. A friendly gesture, that was all.

“Thanks, Ross,” Callie said hurriedly. “I’ll see you.”

Somehow, she got her skirts inside the door. She looked forward to ripping the wet tulle apart and stuffing it into the trash, along with the ruined silk bodice.

“See you, Callie.” His handsome Campbell face and easy stance made her want to grab his hand, drag him inside, and not let him go.

But she’d imposed on him enough, he had Manny to see to, and a family dinner to attend.

She drew breath and forced herself to swing the heavy door shut. Ross moved out of its way, not worried when it slammed more or less in his face.

Callie watched through the door’s sidelight as Ross strode back to the SUV, his uniform hugging a very nice ass. He said something to Manny in the back, then unhurriedly slid into the driver’s seat and closed the door.

In another moment, he drove away, leaving Callie’s life as easily as he’d entered it.

Callie slid out of her satin shoes and swept them into her hand. She took two steps up the staircase, then collapsed onto it, cradling her head on her arms and weeping without remorse.

* * *

On a sweltering mid-July day with temps in the hundreds, Mildred called across the sheriff’s office.

“Ross! Callie Jones is on the line for you.”

All desks were empty except for Mildred’s, Ross’s, and Rafe Sanchez’s. Sanchez looked up with eager interest.

“Hey, wish a rain-drenched, rich bride would call me.”

Mildred answered him. “If you took one home after she was left at the altar, maybe one would. Ross?”

Ross prayed Mildred had put Callie on hold, and Callie hadn’t heard the exchange.

He’d been waiting for this call for months. Didn’t realize how much until right now. His mouth went dry, and his head buzzed like he’d contracted a sudden fever.

“Forward it to my cell,” he said as calmly as he could.

“Personal calls at the office.” Sanchez shook his head and went back to his computer. “Hennessey isn’t going to like that.”

“It’s not personal,” Mildred said. “She called the main line. Ross? You ready?”

Ross shoved himself from his desk, snatching up his cell phone. “Ready.” He gave Sanchez, his grinning best friend, the finger, and walked out into the courthouse hall.

He tapped his phone after it got in one peep of a ring and lifted it to his ear. “Callie? You okay?”

“Hi, Ross.” She sounded perfectly fine. Sweet Texas drawl, her voice like satin. Fine, but a little worried.

“What’s wrong?” Ross heard his tone go sharp. He couldn’t remain neutral and businesslike around this woman.

“It’s Manny,” Callie said. “I wasn’t sure who to call.”

“Is he hurt?” he asked, fear stabbing him surprisingly hard.

“No, nothing like that. But …”

Ross let out a breath, leaned against a cool wall, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Son of a … Where is he? What did he do?”

“Well …” Callie hesitated, and he imagined her gazing into space as she thought. She’d be wearing … what? Ross couldn’t stop picturing her in her sopping wedding gown, the white silk hugging her curves, the glitter dusting her skin. Wet, beautiful woman.

“He’s here—at our house. He broke into one of the sheds.”

“Shit,” Ross said in dismay. Three more weeks and Manny was eighteen. “What did he take?” Please, let it be nothing worth more than twenty bucks.

“The tractor mower,” Callie said, a strange note in her voice.

“Damn it. Sit tight—he can’t go far with something like that. I’ll get it back in one piece and talk—”

“No, no, he didn’t steal it,” Callie cut him off. “He’s mowing the lawn with it. I’m calling you because we can’t make him stop.”