With This Ring Read online

  With This Ring

  LEE MCKENZIE

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter One

  Brent Borden pulled his flatbed truck onto the quiet, tree-lined street. The road was not a direct route from the lumberyard to the construction site—far from it—and he’d be the first to admit that he’d driven by the church on purpose. According to the clock on the dashboard, the ceremony would start any minute, so he couldn’t have said exactly what he was looking for. Closure, maybe. But he sure as hell never expected to see the bride running down the sidewalk.

  Barefoot.

  In the rain.

  Away from the church.

  He eased off the accelerator and peered through the blurred windshield. It was Leslie, all right. So he did what anyone would have done. He pulled over, leaned across the cab and wound down the window.

  “Need a ride?”

  FOR THE first time in her life, Leslie Durrance had no idea where she was going and, furthermore, she didn’t care. Anything would be better than what she had just left behind. Except maybe this. She had no intention of accepting help from a free-and-easy construction worker who also happened to be her brother’s best friend and, quite possibly, the most annoying man in the world.

  “Hey, need a ride?” he asked again.

  She slowed her pace but kept moving. “No, thank you.”

  “Are you lost?”

  She hitched the soggy skirt of the satin and lace Armani gown a little higher and shook her head.

  “I see.” His truck inched along beside her. “Do you know you’re going in the wrong direction?”

  She stopped then and glared at him through the partly open window. “I know exactly what I’m doing and where I’m going.”

  He braked. “So you don’t need a lift?”

  She wanted to say no, but the inside of his truck looked very inviting. Warm and dry, and just about the last place anyone in Collingwood Station would look for her.

  As though he sensed her hesitation, he leaned across the cab and opened the door. “Hop in.”

  What choice did she have? It wouldn’t be long before someone came looking for her, and looking for answers.

  She hiked up her dress and climbed into the truck.

  “Where to?” Brent’s voice held a hint of concern but he seemed surprisingly nonplussed by the ridiculousness of the situation.

  Where could she go? Not to her town house, or to her mother’s house. Those would be the first two places people would look for her. Her office building was closed on Saturdays and she didn’t have the keys with her. She was too mortified to go to any of her friends for help. Besides, they were all still inside the church. A hotel? Not without some cash and a credit card.

  She had no plan and no place to go, and some crazy twist of fate had landed her in the cab of a truck with a man she’d rejected more times than she could count.

  “Why did you stop?” she asked. “After all the things I’ve said to you over the years, it wouldn’t have surprised me if you’d just driven by.”

  The wounded look that flickered in his eyes was one she’d seen before. “You really think that little of me?” he asked, running his hand through his dark wavy hair that was, as it always had been, just a tad too long to be manageable.

  She lowered her gaze and realized she was still clutching the stupid shoes she’d taken off so she could run faster. “No. Right now, that’s how little I think of myself.”

  He didn’t respond to that. Instead, he reached behind the seat and pulled out a jean jacket. “You must be cold. Lean forward a bit.”

  She was too numb to feel anything, but she couldn’t stop shivering, so he was probably right.

  He draped the faded denim around her shoulders and she snuggled into it.

  The workmanlike scent of sawdust was oddly comforting. “Do you think we could just drive around for a while till I figure out what to do?” This morning she’d thought this New England summer storm might ruin her wedding. Now it was the least of her worries.

  “You’re soaking wet and you want drive around town with a truckload of lumber?”

  No. She wanted to crawl under a rock and die. She turned to face him and his eyes softened immediately.

  “How ’bout we go to my place?” he suggested.

  Nice try, she thought. “You can’t be serious.”

  “This isn’t high school, Leslie. I’m not going to make a pass at you. You can get dried off and warmed up, and take all the time you need to figure out what you want to do. But if you have a better idea—”

  She felt like an idiot. He was being very sweet about this, a lot sweeter than she deserved. “Thank you. Your place will be fine.”

  SLOWLY MANEUVERING the oversized truck through town gave him the opportunity to glance at her from time to time. “You want to talk about what happened?”

  “No.”

  “Okay. I wasn’t trying to pry or anything. Just thought you might want to—”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Got it. I live across town. We’ll be there in five minutes or so.”

  They made the drive in silence, during which he was acutely aware of the change from the stately old residences that surrounded the church to the much smaller and often rundown houses in his neighborhood. The drive also gave him time to ponder this unexpected turn of events. Whatever it was that had made her run, it had to be serious. Leslie Durrance didn’t do things like this. For as long as he’d known her, which had been pretty much his whole life, he couldn’t ever remember her doing anything impulsive. She’d been on the honor roll and the student council. Then she’d gone to college and law school, just like everyone knew she would. She’d been the prettiest girl in school and he couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t been completely crazy about her.

  He’d always known the two of them would never work. Why would she settle for him when she could have any guy she set her sights on? She was from a wealthy, prominent family. He’d been raised by his mother in subsidized housing. A quick sideways glance assured him nothing had changed. She wore a necklace and earrings that had more diamonds than he’d ever seen outside a jewelry store. He stole a second look. Her engagement ring must have cost as much as he earned in two years. Maybe more.

  He pulled the truck into his driveway, shut off the engine and turned to face her. “Here we are.”

  She sat motionless, as though she might be having second thoughts. He could hardly blame her.

  “Sit tight. I’ll come around and get the door for you.” If anything, the rain was coming down even harder than when he’d picked her up by the church. He jogged around the front of the truck and by the time he got to her door, his T-shirt was soaking wet. He opened the door and offered her a hand while being careful to keep his distance.

  She placed her small, slender hand into his. For once she seemed willing to accept a little help without putting up a fight.

  “You’re freezing,” he said. “Come on. Let’s get you inside.”

  She was still clutching her shoes in her free hand but she managed to gather up the skirt of the wedding gown and step out of the truck. He should probably offer to take the shoes from her, but he sensed she’d only let him do so much before she let him have it.

  “Ow!” She stumbled slightly when her bare feet touch
ed the gravel.

  Without giving her a chance to protest, he swung her off the ground and headed for the shelter of the veranda. With one arm supporting her shoulders and the other hooked behind her knees, he fumbled with the keys and finally found the lock.

  “Brent?”

  He looked down into her wide brown eyes and his hand froze on the knob. “What?”

  “Put me down,” she whispered. “Please.” Her voice caught on the last word and came out in a little sob.

  He set her down immediately. “Sorry. I was just trying to help.”

  It sounded too lame to be the truth, even though it was. The wariness in Leslie’s eyes didn’t fade and he knew what she was thinking.

  Smooth move, Borden. Since when did carrying another man’s bride across your threshold qualify as helpful?

  LESLIE hadn’t given any thought to where Brent lived but she never would have predicted an old cottage that had been so carefully restored. She stopped inside the front door and looked around.

  He came up behind her and she felt his hand on her back. “Something wrong?”

  She shook her head. “What a charming little house.”

  “You sound surprised.” He sounded offended.

  “I just meant that it’s charming and it’s been beautifully restored and—” Hmm. Given that he worked for her brother’s construction company, he’d probably done the work himself. Still, the house seemed out of character for the Brent Borden she used to know, which suggested he probably hadn’t done this alone. “Did someone help you with it?”

  He guided her into the entryway and closed the door. “You think I can’t fix up a house without a woman’s help?”

  This was not going well. “I’m sorry.” How many times had she said that since he’d picked her up? “I’m not thinking too clearly. All I wanted to say is that you’ve done a great job. So, you live here alone?”

  “No.”

  Her brother had mentioned recently that Brent wasn’t married, but it made sense that someone as offhandedly charming and, let’s face it, downright sexy as Brent would have a woman in his life. Maybe even the one she’d seen him with at Donaldson’s Deli, not long after she’d moved back to Connecticut. Her stomach gave an odd little lurch.

  “She won’t mind you bringing me here?” Stupid question. How many women would be happy to have their partner bring home a fugitive bride?

  He eased around her, which brought him even closer. “I guess I could have called and left a message, but I’m pretty much used to doing whatever I want.”

  More than anything, Leslie wanted to slap the smirk off his face, but the way he handled his relationship was none of her business. “Some things never change.”

  He did a mini eye roll. “You got that right. But you’re here now so you might as well come in and meet Max.”

  Max? Unusual name for a woman.

  Brent kicked off his boots and walked across the living room and through the kitchen.

  Leslie waited by the front door, not sure if she should venture farther until she knew what Max’s reaction would be. Besides, her dress was making a puddle on the floor and she didn’t want to make an even bigger mess of the gleaming hardwood.

  A door opened and closed and that was followed by the sound of skittering on linoleum and by Brent’s voice. “Hey, boy, glad to see me? Come on. Yeah, good boy. Come on. Somebody wants to meet you.”

  Max was a dog. And a boy dog at that. Brent had rescued her from an impossible situation and brought her here until she could figure out what to do next, and she’d insulted him and made herself look even more foolish. What was it about this man that brought out the worst in her?

  No, that wasn’t fair. That made it sound as though this was his fault, and it wasn’t. A better question was, why did she still overreact to everything he said?

  Before she could figure out the answer, a huge gray and white sheepdog bounded across the living room, heading straight for her.

  “Max! Down!”

  Max planted his front paws on the floor and skidded to stop in front of her, his entire back end wagging. He gazed at her through a shaggy curtain of fur.

  “Max, sit.”

  The dog’s ears perked up and he glanced back at his master as if checking to see if he really meant what he said.

  “Sit.”

  Max slowly lowered his wagging haunches to the floor.

  Leslie patted his head. “Good boy.”

  Humor sparkled in Brent’s eyes. “He doesn’t always behave but what he lacks in manners, he makes up for with enthusiasm.”

  That makes two of you, she thought, but resisted the urge to say it out loud. After the way Brent had rescued her this morning, that would be unfair.

  And at least Max hadn’t turned out to be the woman she’d seen him with at the deli. She’d seemed a little young for Brent, anyway. They had been sitting at a table that Saturday morning, his arm draped across the back of her chair. They were leaning close and gazing into each other’s eyes, and then she’d dipped her finger into the foam of her cappuccino and offered it to him. From the way he looked at her and took her finger into his mouth, it was obvious the two of them had spent the night together.

  Brent hadn’t seen Leslie, so she’d quickly moved to the counter, her back toward him. After she’d made her purchase and chatted briefly with old Mr. Donaldson, she turned away from the counter and caught Brent watching her. His smile had been a combination of surprise and his old good-natured, happy-to-see-you charm. She’d given him a brief nod in return and hurried out of the shop. In high school she’d had to spend a certain amount of time with him because he was her brother’s best friend. This was no longer high school, and she was glad to see that he’d found someone to be with.

  Half an hour later she’d finished shopping and was loading her purchases into the trunk of her car when she saw Brent helping Cappuccino Girl into his old blue and white truck. His hand had curled over her butt and lingered just a little too long.

  Leslie withdrew her hand from the coarse, wiry fur on Max’s head and pulled the denim jacket more snugly around her shoulders as she shivered.

  “You must be freezing,” Brent said. “Let’s get you warmed up.”

  She glanced at him warily.

  He rolled his eyes again but didn’t comment on her reaction. “Maybe a hot bath while I see if I can find some dry clothes that will fit you?”

  “A hot bath would be wonderful.” She set her shoes on the floor and was again aware of the puddle that her dripping dress had made. “Look at this mess. I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s just water,” Brent said. “I’ll wipe it up, if Max doesn’t get to it first. The bathroom’s through here.”

  Max leaped to his feet and trotted next to him, through an archway that led to a small space that couldn’t really be called a hallway, since it was only as long as it was wide.

  Leslie followed, noticing for the first time just how tall and broad shouldered Brent was.

  Most of the tiny bathroom was taken up by the biggest claw-foot tub she’d ever seen. She could hardly wait to get out of the cold, wet dress and into a tubful of hot water.

  “There’s a shower if you’d prefer that.” He indicated the curtain suspended from a brass rail over the tub.

  She shook her head.

  Without a word, he inserted a plug in the drain and turned on the taps.

  Max settled himself on the bath mat.

  “Help yourself to towels,” Brent said, pointing to a wall shelf, “and anything else you need. I’ll see what I can find for you to wear.”

  “Thank you.” She hoped he meant something of his because she would die of embarrassment if he produced another woman’s clothing.

  Once he was out of the room, she slipped his jacket off her shoulders and hung it on a hook on the back of the door. The cool air raised goose bumps on her arms and shoulders.

  Shivering almost uncontrollably, she stretched one arm over her shoulder to unzip the b
ack of her dress. It was just out of reach. She extended her other arm around her back and still couldn’t unfasten it. Getting into the thing hadn’t been a problem because Allison and Candice, her bridesmaids, had been there to help. At least, Allison had helped. Candice, not so much.

  An inviting cloud of steam rose from the water in the tub. Maybe she should just climb in, dress and all. Or find a pair of scissors and cut her way out of the damn thing. The very idea sent a giggle rising up her throat. Not even in her current state could she destroy such a beautiful and expensive gown.

  Max’s dark, soulful eyes stared up at her.

  “Whatever you do, don’t ever get married.”

  “Excuse me?” Brent stood in the doorway.

  “Sorry. I was talking to Max.”

  “Ah, I see. I don’t think there’s much danger of him doing anything rash. He and I have already had that talk, and besides…” Brent shielded his mouth with one hand and spoke in an exaggerated whisper. “He’s been fixed.”

  She refused to let herself be baited again. “You’ll have to give me the name of his surgeon. I know someone who would benefit from that procedure.”

  “Ouch. I’ll have to be careful to stay on your good side.”

  “Good plan.”

  “All right, then.” He handed her a pair of gray sweatpants, a long-sleeved blue T-shirt and a thick pair of black cotton socks. “This is the best I can do. The pants have a drawstring,” he said, glancing at her waist. He stepped closer and she quickly backed away, narrowly missing Max’s paw.

  Brent leaned over the tub and turned off the taps.

  “I can look after that,” she said.

  His sharp glance had her wishing, yet again, that she could stop overreacting. “I’m sorry. I appreciate everything you’re doing.”

  “No trouble. While you’re in the bath, I’ll run out and pick up some more clothes for you.”

  “You don’t have to do that. I can—” She paused. She could do what? Go back to her town house and deal with Gerald and her mother? No way. “Thank you. But please keep the receipts and I’ll pay you back.”