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Just then, a shiny red pickup truck came up behind her. She untangled the veil from her face as the truck slowed and she glanced into the cab, hoping for a miracle.

And found a handsome Stetson-wearing man checking her out from the very top of her lace veil to the hand-stitched hem of her skirt and everywhere in between. He did a double-take, then his lips lifted in a definite smirk.

If she wasn’t entirely certain who the blue-eyed guy was, the logo on the side door gave it away.

Cooper Construction.

Shoot.

Her heart did a little flip and her throat locked up good and tight. Ryan “Coop” Cooper was sonother miracle. Yet he looked better than her crazy daydreams.

“Hey, Taylor,” he drawled slow and easy-like. “What poor guy are you running away from this time?”

Chapter Three

Coop couldn’t believehis eyes. He stared out the window of his truck. The girl in the runaway bride getup was Taylor Preston. And she was prettier than he recalled. All that silky dark hair, those wide green-as-grass eyes kind of punched him in the gut. Sure, he’d known she was due back in town for the wedding. He’d heard enough about it from Miguel and Julie, but seeing her again, in the flesh, wearing that damn wedding outfit, just about knocked his boots off. It shouldn’t. It’d been almost twelve years, but first loves died hard, and she had been all that.

“Funny, Coop. Real…funny,” she said, her labored breaths bringing her chest up and down. She was definitely winded. “I’m after Julie’s dog, she escaped.”

“Need some help?”

She glanced at him, frowning. His earlier comment didn’t set well with her, he figured. But he couldn’t just leave her to chase the dog by herself.

She squinted down the road and finally nodded. “Yes.”

“I’ll find her,” he said, realizing now wasn’t the time to reminisce. “Wait here. Catch your breath.” He tossed her a bottle of water and was surprised that she’d caught it. He didn’t miss the grudging acceptance in her eyes. “Drink. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“She…could…be anywhere,” she said, heaving another breath, her cheeks flushed with color.

“I’ll find her,” he said a second time, gunning the engine and pulling away, catching a glimpse of her reflection in the rearview mirror. She was standing there, looking a little dumbfounded and beautiful as ever in that fancy wedding gown.

Coop sighed. She was another lifetime ago. And this was now.

He scanned the landscape, looking for the pup, and when he thought he spotted her, a little speck of blond against the green shrubs, he stopped the truck and got out. He put two fingers in his mouth and whistled once, twice, and then called the dog by name. “Here, Muffin.”

The pup lifted her head up from the brush, spotted him, thought about it a second, then put her tail between her legs and curled her body in a defensive posture as she ambled over.

“Muffin, where do you think you’re going, girl?”

Her tail began to wag. She recognized his voice.

Coop bent and gave the dog a pat behind her ears. “Don’t you know it’s a dangerous world out there? Sometimes, when you go running off, you can’t find your way back home.”

The irony was killing him. Here he was giving the pup a sermon about leaving behind those who love you, when the epitome of that very thing was marching up the road, clutching handfuls of white fabric, her long dark hair catching the breeze. He picked up the dog and walked back to his truck. By that time, Taylor made her way over.

“Thank goodness you found her,” she said, her voice tight, the relief on her face almost tangible. “I’d never forgive myself if something happened to her.”

“No harm, no foul,” Coop said, rising with the pup in his arms. He couldn’t say the same about the two of them. There’d been plenty of harm. “You through with your water?”

Taylor glanced at her right hand, looking a bit shocked that she still held the bottle. “Uh, yeah.”

Coop reached for it, his fingers brushing over her delicate hand. The moment froze in time, and they gazed deep into each other’s eyes. Her lips were pink, her cheeks flushed and her green eyes were just as large and expressive as he’d remembered. They’d been friends, then more than friends, and all of that was reflected in her eyes, on her expression.

He cleared his throat and directed his attention to the dog. “Here you go, Muffin.” He poured water into her mouth and the parched pup lapped it up.

“I thought her name was Muffy.”

Coop smiled slow and steady now. “She’s Muffy to everyone but me.”