A Fortune's Texas Reunion Read online

  He was doing his duty, but he’d have had to have been dead not to appreciate the way she felt. And because of that fact, he wondered if it was time he gave Mindy a call. She was a teacher in Amber Falls he’d seen off and on over the last six months. No more interested in anything serious than he was.

  He realized he’d reached Georgia’s knees and quickly moved his hands away, sitting back on his heels.

  “You were lucky that snag caught your car and you were wearing your seat belt. You have some ID in the car?”

  “Of course.”

  “How many fingers am I holding up?”

  Her eyes followed his hand. “Three. I can see perfectly clearly,” she promised tiredly.

  “Do you think you lost consciousness at any point?”

  “I don’t think so. I wasn’t even driving that fast.”

  “Wish I had a dollar for every time I’ve heard that.” He’d be a wealthy man and his mom wouldn’t have had to rent out the north section of land to an infamous billionaire just to keep the bank from taking it back.

  “I wasn’t,” she insisted.

  “Okay, NOLA girl,” he soothed, because she was obviously going to get worked up. “Just rest there for a few minutes.”

  She didn’t argue. Merely threaded her fingers through her hair and shook away pieces of glass still clinging there.

  He left Georgia long enough to retrieve his duty belt and fastened it around his hips again. He fingered the tear in his uniform shirt as he attached his shoulder mic and called in their status to Connie. He had to provide his own uniforms and he didn’t think there’d be any way to fix this particular tear.

  “Ambulance freed up,” Connie reported back. “Should be there soon.”

  “Thanks, Con.” He looked away from Georgia, who was still lying on the ground. She’d spread her arms wide and was alternately lifting one leg, which looked just as perfect as it had felt, then the other, and flexing her bare feet around in circles.

  Her toes were painted a brilliant purple that matched the T-shirt that had crept up her stomach to reveal the low-cut waistband of her white shorts. They were diminutive, those shorts. Revealing both the small, thin gold hoop piercing in her navel as well as the sleek muscles in her thighs as she worked her legs.

  He scooped up his hat and slapped it against his thigh a few times to shake off the dirt, then slid it on his head as he walked around the vehicle, taking pictures with the small digital camera from his duty belt. The only angle he couldn’t get to was the north side of the car, because he’d have to climb into the ravine to get it.

  He went back up the hill, taking pictures of the path the car had taken as it rolled down. He took pictures of the spot it had left the road—obvious only because of the safety guard along the curve that had been torn away. He took a few measurements and made note of them to add to his report later, then returned to Georgia and handed her the sandals he’d found tossed clear of the car about twenty feet away. If she hadn’t been wearing her seat belt, it could have been her body tossed aside, too.

  “You were lucky all the way around,” he told her. “Two feet to the right or left of the tree and we wouldn’t be having this conversation at all.” He watched her slide on the shoes as she sat up. They were patterned flip-flops with thick foamy-looking rubber soles that added a good three inches to her height when she gingerly rolled to her feet. They also had a designer label that even a good ol’ boy like him could recognize.

  The shoes didn’t mean she had money. But the expensive car that cost more than what he earned in a year sure did suggest it.

  “Going to need to take a report of what happened, if you’re up to it.”

  She brushed the dirt off the seat of her shorts and raked her fingers through her long hair, pushing it behind her shoulders. “Happy to cooperate, if I could even tell you what happened.” She looked up the embankment, where his SUV sat, red lights flashing, and he saw her sway.

  He quickly caught her beneath her arm. “Steady there, ma’am.”

  She pressed her hand to her head. “I preferred ‘NOLA girl,’” she murmured. “Doesn’t remind me how close I am to my thirtieth birthday.”

  “And how close is that?”

  She wrinkled her nose as she dropped her hand. “’Bout eighteen months.”

  At least he knew she wasn’t a teenager.

  He nodded toward the SUV. “Let’s get you up to the truck and you can sit down and get outta the heat.”

  “Heat here is nothing compared to the hot soup we have back home.” She looked over her shoulder at the wrecked vehicle. “Nothing about that looks fixable to me.”

  “No, ma’am.”

  Her lips turned down. “I just got it, too. Picked it up yesterday morning before I left town. It drove perfectly all the way to Shreveport. I stayed the night there, then started out again this morning.” She sighed audibly, then turned toward the embankment, taking a first step. He let go of her, but hung behind to lend a hand the second she looked in need of it.

  Unfortunately, that meant he had a close-up view of her hind end as they progressed up the steep hill.

  Only a few sliding steps in those platform sandals, though, and Pax took her arm again. One rescue a day was enough.

  Before they made it to the top, he saw Charlie Esparza pulling up in his wrecker. Pax waved at the skinny man when he nimbly hopped down from the truck. Without waiting, Charlie started skidding down the hill toward them. “Bad spot t’go off,” he said breathlessly. “No skidding, either.” He lifted his cap long enough to reveal his white hair, then took Georgia’s other arm. He was barely taller than her. “Any more vics?”

  Pax shook his head and soon the three of them were safely back on the roadside. He settled Georgia in the back seat of his SUV with the AC running and a fresh bottle of water. He left the door open, though, not wanting her to feel like he’d taken her into custody.

  For one, she hadn’t done anything wrong that he could determine. He’d smelled no alcohol on her. There was no evidence of drugs. In fact, there was no evidence of anything to explain why she’d careened off the highway without seeming to make any attempt at avoiding it.

  As Charlie had observed, no skid. Meaning no braking.

  While Charlie headed back down to the wreckage dragging his long winch cable with him, Pax checked in with Connie again. The ambulance was still en route. He pulled out his metal clipboard and flipped it open to fish a blank report from the contents inside, and leaned against the side of the SUV next to the opened door. He kept his focus on the form, even though the sight of Georgia’s bare legs beckoned. His fingers tingled and he clicked his pen a few times.

  “You say you just picked up the car yesterday? Is it a rental?” If it was, it was a pretty specialized one.

  “No, it’s mine.” Her fingers turned the water bottle this way and that. “First sports car I’ve ever owned. My purse is still in the car. My license. The registration. And my suitcase—”

  “We’ll take care of that once Charlie pulls the car up. Where were you heading? Paseo’s not usually a person’s final destination. Too small. Not enough services. I can help you get to Amber Falls, though. Is there someone I can contact for you? Parents? Boyfriend?”

  She bit her lip, looking in danger of crying again. “I was heading for Paseo, though. In fact, I was looking for the turnoff when—” She broke off, swallowing. She pressed her fingers to her forehead. “My, uh, my oldest brother, Austin, is the best one to contact. He’s here with Felicity. His girlfriend. She’s lovely and actually is lightening up my brother. He’s way too serious, and...” She trailed off as if realizing she’d been rambling.

  To a person, Pax knew everyone in town. The only Austin he knew of didn’t have a girlfriend and definitely wasn’t too serious. In fact, just last month he’d celebrated his third birthday with a party at Rosa’s Mexican re
staurant. Pax had stopped in to say hello because he’d been filling his gas tank at the pumps in front of the restaurant, which also doubled as a grocery store. “What’s your brother’s last name?”

  Her blue eyes peered at him from behind her wrist. “Fortune.”

  Pax exhaled, stifling a curse.

  Naturally, it would be Fortune.

  He’d grown up in Paseo. Aside from the years he’d spent in Dallas, he’d lived here his entire life. And until a week ago, the only Fortunes he’d personally known were Jayden, Nathan and Grayson. And their mom, Deborah. Good, normal folk who’d had no connection at all to the famous Fortunes that made their homes elsewhere in the state.

  Or so he’d thought.

  Now, since Deborah was getting hitched to that eccentric billionaire who was connected and also happened to be the father of Deborah’s three sons, the area was overrun with all manner of people bearing that particular name.

  And his peaceful little town had been turned upside down as a result. They’d filled up the little motel. And when that wasn’t enough, they’d set up a camp on his mom’s piece of land.

  People like his mom and Rosa Hernandez, who had her whole family helping her provide enough food to feed the crowd at the makeshift campground, were benefiting financially, but Pax found it all a headache.

  He clicked his pen a few times. “I should’ve known when I saw the make of the car,” he muttered. In the last few days, there’d been more luxury vehicles traveling this small stretch of highway than in the last decade. Before that, it had been semis and buses transporting all manner of things to his little spot of paradise.

  What was usually his haven had turned into the worst kind of circus. Paseo. The newest playground for the rich and famous.

  Which now included the NOLA girl.

  Steeling himself against her appeal, he tapped the business end of his pen noisily against the form and its metal-backed board. “All right, then. Let’s get to it. Full name and date of birth—”

  Chapter Two

  Georgia shivered as she stared at Pax, wondering where his gentle demeanor had disappeared to. The man who’d pulled her from the wreckage had made her feel safe. When he’d wrapped his arms around her, the blinding terror she’d felt had slid away.

  A reaction to the situation? Undoubtedly. But she’d never ever forget that incalculable sense of pure and utter safety.

  “Full name, ma’am,” he repeated brusquely.

  Her rescuer still looked exactly the same. Except his eyes were no longer a soft, mossy sort of green filled with warmth and kindness. They were more like hard chips of emerald. Had turned that way the second she’d said the name Fortune.

  He was the sheriff. He’d told her so, even though it said the word plainly enough on the gold badge pinned to the front of his torn khaki shirt.

  “Georgia Mae Fortune,” she recited slowly.

  “You’re one of those Fortunes, then.” The sheriff’s tone was even, but there was no question that he didn’t think very highly of “those Fortunes.”

  Her nerves were too raw and she couldn’t help bristling. “I don’t know which Fortunes you’ve got a beef with, but my family comes from New Orleans. We just learned this year that we have a tie with the folks from around here. Not that it’s any of your business.”

  “From what I’ve heard, your family has more branches on its tree than Carter’s got pills, and a scandal for every single one.”

  “What bothers you more? The branches or the scandals?”

  “The money you toss around like confetti. Date of birth?” His voice was clipped, too.

  “January 1. And I don’t toss around money.”

  “You bought that fancy car, didn’t you?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Year?” He arched an absurdly handsome eyebrow, considering how much dirt was caked on it. His hair had clumps on it, too, obscuring the dark strands. If he had any gray, she couldn’t tell. Not that it would detract from his looks. Men were always lucky that way.

  She, on the other hand, had discovered a gray hair earlier that year. She’d promptly visited her hairstylist, who’d laughed it off and masterfully hid the culprit in a subtle weave of lighter shades of blond among her brown.

  “Still waiting, ma’am,” the sheriff prompted.

  She wanted to bare her teeth at him. She grudgingly supplied her birth year.

  “Thirty’s not the end of the world.” He jerked his chin in the direction of the car, which was now being dragged up the hill by the heavy metal cable that the tow-truck driver had fastened to it. “Be glad that you’re going to be alive to see it when the day actually rolls around in a year and a half,” he reminded her flatly.

  She shivered again, harder this time, and water spurted from the top of the bottle, splashing on her knee.

  She felt his gaze follow and shivered even more.

  Whether he disapproved of the Fortunes or not, she recognized interest in a man’s eyes when she saw it.

  He didn’t wear a wedding ring. But then she knew plenty of men who didn’t. She’d even dated one for a few weeks before discovering he had a wife and a newborn baby waiting devotedly back home.

  When Georgia had found out, she’d given the guy a blistering earful, along with the boot. And been glad that she hadn’t shared anything more intimate with him than crème brûlée. She certainly wasn’t looking for a husband, but she still had her standards when it came to the occasional fling.

  It just had been a while since she’d been...flung.

  “Address?”

  She rattled off the address of her town house in New Orleans.

  How was she going to explain this to her parents? Neither Miles nor Sarah was a fan of her visit to Paseo. It was bad enough that her siblings were attending, too, but Georgia had traveled alone, and these days, her dad was feeling hypersensitive about things.

  “You are here for this wedding business, I take it. Deb Fortune and Gerald Robinson?”

  Her chin came up again at the sheriff’s disapproving tone. She wondered what he’d think if she told him that Gerald was her newfound uncle. “What if I am? The wedding festivities run for the next two weeks. Instead of turning up your nose at the confetti, I’d think the people of Paseo would be grateful for all of the business being brought to the area!”

  His lips twisted. “Area’s done fine for years without all the hassle you beautiful people bring with you.”

  “I won’t mistake that as a compliment.”

  “Smart. Not smart enough to keep that expensive car of yours on the road, though. Assuming you weren’t trying to kill yourself, what had you so preoccupied? Looking at your phone? Taking a selfie to post on some social-media thing?”

  Her jaw loosened. She wasn’t ordinarily stuck for words, but she was now. Instead of telling him exactly what she thought of his judgmental attitude, all she could do was stare at him.

  And he didn’t even bat an emerald eye.

  “Well? I’ll know eventually what you were doing with your cell phone, honey, so it’d be better to tell me up front than try to lie.”

  “I wasn’t doing anything with my cell phone,” she said through her teeth.

  “Not checking directions, or calling your boyfriend—”

  “I don’t have a boyfriend. Not that that’s any of your business, either.”

  “It’s my business to understand why you went off the road in my county.”

  He glanced over as the tow truck’s winch whined loudly and the cable went taut. Then he turned back and focused on his form.

  She wasn’t sure what grated on her nerves more—the squeal of her car being dragged up the hill, or the way the sheriff tapped the point of his pen against the metal clipboard.

  “So you were distracted and looking for a turnoff—”

  “I never said I was distracted,” she
snapped, which just made her head pound even more. “You did. But yes, I was keeping an eye out for a turnoff. Mile post twelve, as a matter of fact. It must be near here.”

  Those emerald chips drifted over her face. “About half a mile up the road. The highway curves here a little, but not sharply. It’s easy to see approaching vehicles if you’re paying attention.”

  “There weren’t any other vehicles.”

  “Are you sure you were paying attention?”

  “Yes! I have a perfect driving record.”

  His lips twisted. “Something that can easily be bought, particularly by those who can afford to trash a car like yours.”

  “I didn’t intentionally trash it,” she said through her teeth, “and I have never needed to buy my way out of anything!”

  He wasn’t moved. “No signs of skidding. You said you were singing with the radio?”

  “Don’t try and tell me that’s against the law.”

  “If you were speeding—”

  “I wasn’t.”

  “—that might explain the distance the car seemed to travel aloft before it impacted the ground.”

  She felt her stomach suddenly lurch and she jumped down from the SUV, running through the weeds on the shoulder of the road until she reached the guardrail and lost her lunch over the other side.

  When she was finished, she didn’t have enough energy left to do anything but hang her arms over the hard, hot metal.

  “Here.”

  She wanted the ground to swallow her up. Spinning anything to a positive slant was her stock-in-trade, but there was just no positive way to spin throwing up on the side of the road.

  She took the bottle of water from Pax. Ignoring him, she took a swig, swirled it in her mouth and spit it out.

  Several yards away, her car crested the edge of the road and the horrible whining finally came to a stop. The short tow-truck driver began pushing levers on the side of his truck and the back of it began tilting down toward the ground.