Free Addicted to Love by Lori Wilde Page B

that?”
    She couldn’t help wondering if he was going to ask her about Trace. Why she’d been foolish enough to get engaged to a man who obviously did not love her. She hoped he didn’t ask that. She didn’t have an answer for it other than she’d been swept away on fairy-tale promises and foolish romantic ideals.
    “How’d you get on top of the billboard?”
    “Oh, that.” Rachael laughed, relieved he hadn’t asked her about Trace. “I climbed on top of the boxcar.”
    “How’d you get on top of the boxcar?”
    “I climbed on the roof of my VW.”
    “The boxcar is parked that close to the sign?”
    “I had to do a bit of jumping,” she admitted.
    “In a wedding dress?”
    “I was pretty determined,” she said.
    “Carrying a can of black paint?”
    “The paint can was on the ground attached to a rope. I had the other end of the rope in my hand. When I got to the billboard, I just hauled the paint up.”
    “You’d thought it out.”
    “I had a four-hundred-mile drive to put it all together.”
    “You were determined.” Was that admiration she heard in his voice?
    “That sign represents all that’s wrong with Valentine.” She rolled onto her back again, tucked her palms underneath her head, and stared up at the ceiling. “It symbolizes the wreck I’ve made of my life due to all the wrong values and starry-eyed beliefs this town instilled in me.”
    “You sure this isn’t just a stress reaction to getting dumped and finding out your parents are getting divorced?”
    “It’s more than that.”
    “How are you feeling about your parents’ divorce?”
    Rachael took a deep breath. Good question. What was she feeling? She lay there letting the emotions flow over her—betrayal, sadness, guilt. Yes, guilt. She couldn’t help thinking that somehow this was all her fault. She should have recognized that all was not right in her parents’ marriage. She should have done something, said something. She should have been more aware of what was going on, not been so self-absorbed.
    “Don’t you think you’re throwing the baby out with the bathwater?” Brody asked. “Romance is what kept this town alive after the oil dried up. There wouldn’t be a Valentine without it.”
    “It might have been a bit rash,” she admitted. “But a bold statement needed to be made. Someone has to take a stand. A balance must be struck.”
    “Is this the argument you’re going to present to Judge Pruitt in the morning?”
    “Yes.”
    “Good luck with that.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Judge Pruitt is as much in love with Valentine as Kelvin Wentworth. She’s going to throw the book at you.”
    That provoked a knot of worry inside her. “Exactly what does having the book thrown at you entail?”
    “Hours of community service.”
    “Seriously?” The thought panicked her. “How am I going to do hours of community service? I live in Houston. Or at least I did. Before I gave up my apartment to move in with Trace.”
    “Plus you’ll be expected to repair the damage you did to the sign. And there will probably be a hefty fine.”
    “How hefty?” Maybe she should have given a bit more thought to her vandalism spree.
    “Depends on what kind of mood the judge is in. You better hope she had a good vacation.”
    Rachael blew out her breath in relief. “I’ve got a sharp lawyer on the way.”
    “That’s good.”
    They fell silent again.
    “Brody,” she said after a long moment.
    “Uh-huh?”
    “Thank you.”
    “For what?”
    “This.”
    “This what?”
    “Bringing me home with you. Not leaving me in jail. I know you’re probably violating all kinds of rules and regulations.”
    “Not too many. Besides, I’m the sheriff. Up to a point I can bend the rules,” he said.
    “I had fun tonight, eating tacos and playing Chutes and Ladders with you and Deana and Maisy.”
    She’d forgotten how much fun it was, spending time with a loving family. She thought of her parents and bit down on her bottom lip.