Adam (Farraday Country Book One)

Chapter One

Shooting the cheating, conniving sleazebag between the eyes wasn't the best idea she'd ever had. After all, Texas was a death penalty state. On the other hand, a well-placed bullet in each ball could work. Didn't Lorena Bobbitt get off scot-free?

Margaret Colleen O'Brien glanced at the clock on the dashboard. She'd driven through the night, conjuring up the most satisfying ways to get even with Jonathan J. Cox. So far shooting his balls off was number one on her list.

***

Adam Farraday folded his tired body into the driver's seat of his pickup truck. Long nights like this—with no time for sleep—were an absolute killer, but, when the fates were on his side, the elation on the mornings after were beyond the best. Or, in this case, near morning. At six thirty the sun barely winked over the horizon. He had just enough time to make it back to town for a quick shower, change of clothes, another gallon of coffee and the last piece of his aunt Eileen's cinnamon crumb cake before his first appointment of the day.

Or not.

The car on the side of the road ahead was sleek, red, low-to-the-ground and tilting to one side. What moron drove a car like that in this lonely part of the country in the middle of the night? He could see it now: a retired balding lawyer, looking to rekindle his youth behind the wheel of a speed-trap-finding red sports car. And, if that wasn't enough, the idiot had to do it in west Texas cattle country.

So much for the shower and crumb cake. By the time Adam changed the tire for the man—who probably didn't even know where to find the spare—Adam would be lucky to get to work on time. He pulled off the two-lane road, mumbling to himself. "God, spare me from stupid city people."

Parking a few yards behind the stranded sports car, he hadn't yet had time to turn off the ignition when the fire-engine-red driver's side door opened. And an angel in white stepped out.

He blinked twice, deciding he wasn't hallucinating. The vision before him was most definitely not a balding lawyer suffering from a midlife crisis. A stunning redhead in a flowing gown stood stiffly, hanging on to the edge of the car door.

Stepping from the cab of his truck, he moved in her direction. She offered a shaky smile, and he noticed her grip on the door tightened. Standing six foot four, at the break of dawn, on a deserted backcountry highway, he could probably scare the life out of anyone, even an angel. Except this angel had no wings. She was all woman.

The closer he got, the more he could see her features. Eyes such a deep bright blue he could make out the shade even in the dim morning light. Hair cropped just above her shoulders shone with natural highlights from the sun. Another step and he saw even more clearly. His angel wasn't just a woman. She was a bride.

What was left of a veil hung slightly off-kilter, and, from the dark mascara smears on her cheeks, he didn't expect to find a groom anywhere nearby.

"Looks like you're having a little trouble."

Her brows shot up, and those bright blue eyes flashed stormy gray. "Ya think?"

He considered apologizing, though he wasn't sure what for, but opted to ignore the attitude and just deal with the car. The sooner she was on her way, the sooner he could get that shower he so desperately wanted. "Have you got a spare?"

"In the trunk."

He veered toward the front of the midengine car, while the pretty angel with the fiery tongue reached inside the vehicle for the key fob and popped the trunk. It took him all of thirty seconds to shift around the few things inside, including the one bag she had, pull out the spare, bounce it off the ground and recognize trouble. "Sorry, ma'am, but when was the last time you checked the air in this tire?"