Jack chewed the inside of his lip. Yesterday his life was pretty close to perfect. He had money, a kickass career, friends, and wonderful memories of his mother. So how had he ended up barreling down the highway with a moody pixie, hung over, and with a whole new family that he damn well didn’t want? “Pull over.”

“What?”

“I said, pull over. There’s a gas station, pull in there.”

She glanced over her shoulder then changed lanes to exit. Once in the lot she had to maneuver around an eighteen-wheeler to get to a parking spot. “Are you alright?”

“Dandy.”

“Then why did we stop?”

“I’m putting an end to this madness. I am not traveling halfway across the country to meet a family I never knew existed.”

“But—”

“No.”

“But—”

“Why is this so important to you, Luanne? I mean why do you even care about me or my family?” He plunged his fingers into his hair. “We both know you don’t like me.”

She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, not making eye contact with him. “That’s not true.”

“Really? Name one thing you like about me.” When her lips stayed sealed he snorted. “That’s what I thought.”

“You’re funny.”

“What?” He couldn’t have heard her correctly.

“I mean…sometimes you’re kind of funny.”

Why did that one statement make him so ridiculously happy? To cover his glee, he gave her his best cocky grin. “Yeah?”

“Stop that. I take it back.”

“Uh-uh. You’ve already said it. It’s out there now, and you can’t take it back.”

She stuck her tongue out at him then laughed. Her laughter curled around his stomach. Dammit. He did not want to have feelings for her, but he knew it was too late for that to be true. He’d liked her from the first day he saw her and she’d threatened to castrate him.

“It’s okay, tough girl. I won’t tell anyone.”

“I’ll swear you’re lying if you do.”

He laughed. “Fair enough.”

“Do you feel better?”

Amazingly he did. “Yes.”

“Good.” She patted his knee, and then went to start the car. “Let’s get back on the road.”

He put his hand on her arm. “Not until you tell me why this is so important to you.”

She sat back in the seat and crossed her arms. Without even opening her mouth, it was obvious that she was fighting some internal battle as to whether she’d tell him or not. “It’s my father.”

Well, that wasn’t what he’d expected her to say. “Your father is why you care if I meet this new family of mine?”

“No.”

Her head was down and she was playing with the hem of her shirt. When she looked up, pain had leached the brilliance from her eyes. Her agony was a physical thing. It squeezed the air from the car, and caused his heart to skip a beat.

“My father’s the reason I ran.”

* * *

There, she said it. It didn’t sound any better spoken out loud.

“I don’t understand. You said you caught Doug with another woman.”

She waved him off. “I did, but that’s not why I ran. I wasn’t in love with him.”

“Why would you agree to marry someone you aren’t in love with?”

Yeah, well, that was the million-dollar question. “My father thought it would be good for me. What I said earlier was true. He said he wanted to make sure I was taken care of when he was gone.” She sucked in a big breath. “But the bigger answer is, I don’t do love.”

“You may be the first woman I’ve ever heard say that.”

When she looked at him this time her gaze was deadly serious. “Love makes you weak and stupid. I am neither. Or so I thought until I let my father sell me to the highest bidder.”

“Whoa, back up. You’ve lost me.”

“Before I ran, I’d needed a moment away from the wedding hubbub. I found a room off a side hallway in the event center. That’s how I overheard Doug and his girlfriend. My father caught them sucking face. He was furious.” The pressure building behind her eyes throbbed with every beat of her broken heart. “I was so naïve, I thought he was angry on my behalf. He…” The words got jammed in her throat. She just couldn’t say them. “Let’s just say my best interest never came into it.”

“Lou, you don’t have to tell me anymore.”

She shook her head. Her father had royally screwed her over, and saying out loud cemented the reality. No more mind games and making excuses for the worst father in the world. “Last night I called my grandmother and he got on the phone. He was all ‘Oh, I’m so worried about you’, then when I called him on his lie he almost convinced me that I hadn’t heard what I heard. That’s what he does. He lies so convincingly that you believe you’re wrong when you know damn good and well you’re right.”

Jack’s warm finger wiped something from her cheek. Damn it, she was crying. Again. This was third time she’d cried in front of this man. No. It was one thing to give herself a reality check, but another thing altogether to let someone else see behind the curtain. She wouldn’t give into this misery, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to give Jack one more ounce of ammunition to use against her.

As quick as she could, she erected the fortress she lived behind. The one she began building when she was four, and her father said she was too sensitive for crying when he left her.

Maybe that’s because I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again, Dad.

“He’s a real son of a bitch.”

She flipped down the visor mirror and pretended to inspect her make up, then flicked it back in place. “That’s what Scarlett calls him.”

“The woman is a genius.”

She had to tell him the rest, but she just wanted to be done with this conversation. “There’s something else you should know. He knows I left with you and he has people looking for me.”

He snorted. “I hope these folks are more competent than that behemoth at your house.”

“I’m not going back. No one can tell him no. It’s like his superpower. I need time to reinforce my own superpower.” She was pleased that her voice had its normal authoritative tone.

“And what is your superpower?”

“Badassery, of course.” She pointed one pink-tipped nail at him. “That’s why I’ll kill you if you tell anyone you’ve seen me cry.”

He held his hands in the air in surrender. “Your secret’s safe with me, fireball. Tell you what, I’ll take you to an island in the middle of nowhere. I’ll call the charter service we use for the record company, and he’ll never be able to find you.”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because, Jack, we’re going to find your people.”

Thunder rolled over his amiable face. “They’re not my people.” Each word sounded like a chunk of concrete dropping into place.

“Yes they are, and according to that letter they all want to know you. You have two families who love you, Jack. Two. I don’t have anyone except my grandmother and she’s got her head so far up my father’s butt that she can’t see what a manipulative jerk he is.” She opened the car door. “I’m going to the bathroom and when I get back I expect you to have put on your man-pants and be on board with this plan.”

“You can’t put that on me, Luanne.”

“I can and I am.” She got out of the car then poked her head back in. “You’re a big boy, Jack. You can handle it.”

* * *

Jack was back in the driver’s seat, literally at least. Luanne was clearly running this show. He didn’t want to be here. This whole road trip was a joke, but he’d play along for a little while longer. He could refuse, of course, but for the first time since her father came back into her life she was back to her bossy self. Even though he’d tried not to, he’d become a student of Luanne Price, and it had made him sick to watch her fade away and wilt before his eyes.

It was like Marcus had killed her mojo. Also, this insane need to keep her safe made him want to keep her happy too. Never mind the fact that he had no intention of meeting any of his long-lost relatives, but she didn’t need to know that.

“Do you want some?” She took a huge bite of some kind of pink cupcake thing covered in coconut, and handed him the one left in the package.

He turned down the radio. “I don’t actually allow eating in my car.” The glare she gave him cracked him up, but he schooled his features. She’d already gotten too much from him. Time to get a little back.

“How is that possible? It’s not a road trip without snacks.” She picked up the plastic bag from the convenience store and began to dig in. “I’ve got cheese crackers, Munchos, M&Ms, Snickers, and gummy bears.”

The smell of sugar from the pastry did nothing for his already unsteady stomach. “That reminds me, can I have my debit card back?” He held out his hand.

“Oh, sorry.” She dug into her pocket. “Here it is.”

He tossed it into the console with his wallet. “Now I can rest easy, knowing you’re not going to break me buying junk food.”

“I’d have to buy a lot of junk food to break you, buddy, if anything Scarlett says is true.” She popped the last of the pastry into her mouth.

“What are you talking about?” He changed lanes and rested one hand on top of the steering wheel.

“You’re loaded. Don’t try to deny it.” She cracked open a bottle of Yoo-hoo.

Where did such a tiny woman put so much food? “I’m not denying it. You’ll never hear me being falsely modest about my wealth. I worked hard for it, made sacrifices, and make good decisions.” He shrugged. “I like having money. It makes life much easier.”

She made a scoffing sound. “There’s more to life than money, Jack. I mean, there’s family and helping others. Life isn’t about acquiring all you can.”

“I never said money was the only thing that mattered. There are a lot of things more important than money. All I said was that life is easier when you have the funds to pay for the things you want and need. It sounds like you’re putting me and your father in the same boat.” He took his attention from the road and stared her down. “I am not your father.”

She slid her gaze to the window. “Fine. You’re right. Sorry.”

“Apology accepted.”

She’d told him things about her childhood, painful things. He supposed he could give her a little of his. “I grew up very poor. You know that by now.”

He felt more than saw her look at him, but she remained silent.

He propped his arm in the window and rested his head in his hand. “Before the house you saw, we lived in a mobile home on the outskirts of town. We were on government assistance for a while, and every stitch of clothing I wore until I was sixteen was someone else’s cast offs.”

“What happened when you were sixteen?”

“I got a job. The first thing I bought was a black hoodie that had a complete, anatomically correct, upper body skeleton screen printed on it.”

“Noooo.”

He laughed. “Yep. The best part was the bleeding heart under the ribs.” He patted his chest. “I was the shit when I wore that hoodie. I ordered it out of a skater magazine so there wasn’t another skeleton hoodie in town.”

“Stop. Wait. Are you saying you were a skater too?”

He ran his fingers through his hair. “The only thing I’ll say is…I never met a half-pipe I couldn’t make my bitch.”

They both cracked up. Her laughter ignited every male molecule in his body. It was bad. The color around her pupils turned the most incredible shade of blue when she was happy. And after all the shit she’d told him about her dad he was glad he could make her laugh.

“What about you? What fashion secrets do you have?”

She opened the package of Munchos and offered him one. Why the hell not? He couldn’t really feel any worse than he did. He took a few and popped them into his mouth, then thanked the deep-fried gods for the oily, salty deliciousness.

“There were many, trust me. One fall Scarlett and I bought matching neon-green velour tracksuits.” She chuckled. “With her red hair, Scarlett looked like a glow-in-the-dark candle.”

He laughed. “I bet she did.”

“Of course, she wore a conservative tank under hers.”

“But not you?”

The wicked grin she gave him went straight to his groin. “No, I wore a hot-pink tube top under mine. I barely had any boobs to hold the thing up, but it caused quite the scandal.”

His focus lasered to the boobs in question, which he noted would now hold up a tube top very nicely.

She snapped her fingers. “Hey. Eyes up here, buddy.”

“Sorry, Pavlov’s dog, you say boobs and I look.” He snatched the bag of chips from her lap. “Quit hogging all the Munchos.”

Laughter bubbled out of her as she licked the greasy crumbs from her fingers. “My gangsta phase was the worst. For almost a year I wore oversized men’s basketball jerseys with skinny jeans. Reebok high tops, unlaced, of course.”

“Of course.”

“And sweat bands halfway up my forearm, blasting Tupac through my earbuds.”

“Tupac?”

“Don’t be so surprised, Jack. I’m from the country, but I know good music and true genius when I hear it.” She fidgeted in her seat and looked out the window. “Forget it. You probably wouldn’t understand.”

He pushed a button on the steering wheel. “Play Tupac.”

Shocked crossed her face. “Don’t be so surprised, Luanne. I’m from the country, but I know good music and true genius when I hear it. Besides, music is my business.”

She popped a gummy bear into her mouth. “You think you know a person.”

“I cry every time I hear I Ain’t Mad at Cha. And, by the way, you don’t know me, you just think you do.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes, that’s right, Ms. Price. Would you like to get to know me better? Like, in the biblical sense.”

She snorted Yoo-hoo out of her nose. “You’re an idiot. Now shut up so I can hear the music.”

For the rest of the day, they listened to rap music and ate junk food while the car ate up the miles.

He’d never had a better time.