The Best Bride
With his sexy Stetson and X-rated grin, was Sheriff Travis Haynes Glenwood's leading lady-killer or Elizabeth Abbot and her daughter's knight in shining armour? Finally pulling her life back together, Elizabeth couldn't afford more heartbreak. Still, Travis was awfully tempting…With every fragment of her betrayed heart, Elizabeth longed to trust the legendary lawman – enough to become his bride and give her child a daddy. But would her shattering past forever hold her hostage…even from the love that could make her whole?
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#1 New York Times bestselling author Susan Mallery brings you a reader-favorite tale of redemption, self-discovery and a love that conquers all.
Elizabeth Abbot is finally pulling her life back together. Sheâs endured enough heartbreak at the hands of her deceitful ex-husband and is determined to provide a happy life for her daughter. Thatâs exactly why she should stay away from Travis Haynes, the sheriff of Glenwood, with his trademark Stetson and sexy smile.
With all of her broken heart, Elizabeth longs to trust the legendary lawman, to let him past the walls she has built up so carefully. But will her shattered past forever hold her hostage, even from a love that could make her whole?
Contents
Part One
Part Two
The white T-bird fishtailed around the corner. It sprayed dirt and gravel up onto the left front of the patrol car parked on the side of the road.
Sheriff Travis Haynes turned the key to start the engine, then flipped on the blue lights. As he pulled out onto the highway, he debated whether or not to use the siren, then decided against it. He was about to mess up someoneâs long weekend by giving him a ticket; no point in adding insult to injury by using the siren. The good citizens of Glenwood had contributed enough money to buy a car equipped with a siren that could wake the dead. But that didnât necessarily mean they wanted him to use it on them.
He stepped on the gas until he was behind the white car, then checked his speed. He gave a low whistle and looked at the car ahead. He could see a mass of brown hair through the rear window, but little else. The lady was going somewhere in a hurry. He followed behind and waited.
It took her another two minutes to notice him. She glanced in her mirror, saw the flashing lights, did a double take, then immediately put on her blinker and pulled to the side of the road. Travis slowed and parked behind her. He shut off the engine, reached for his Stetson and ticket book, then got out and walked leisurely toward the car. His cowboy boots crunched on the gravel. He noticed the California license plate tags were current.
âAfternoon,â he said, when he walked up to the open window. He glanced down at the woman and got a brief impression of big brown eyes in a heart-shaped face. She looked a little pale under her tan. A lot of people were nervous when they were stopped by an officer. He gave her a friendly smile. âYou were going pretty fast there.â
âIâI know,â she said, softly, averting her gaze and staring out the front window. âIâm sorry.â
She gripped the steering wheel tightly. He looked past her to the young girl in the passenger seat. The child looked more frightened than her mother. She clutched a worn brown teddy bear to her chest and stared at him with wide blue eyes. Her mouth trembled as if she were fighting tears. About five or six, he thought, giving her a quick wink.
Travis returned his attention to the woman. She wore her hair pulled up in a ponytail on top of her head. The ends fell back almost to her shoulders. It was a warm September afternoon. She was dressed in a red tank top and white shorts. He tried not to notice her legs. âIâm going to need to see your driverâs license and registration, maâam,â he said politely.
âWhat? Oh, of course.â
She bent over to grab her purse from the floor on the passengerâs side. He thought he heard a gasp, as if she were in pain, but before he could be sure, she fumbled with her wallet and pulled out the small identification. As she handed it to him, it slipped out of her fingers and fluttered toward the ground. He caught it before it touched the dirt.
âIâm sorry,â she murmured. Her mouth pulled into a straight line and dark emotion flickered in her eyes.
Immediately his instincts went on alert. Something wasnât right. She was too scared or too upset for someone getting a ticket. He glanced down at the license. Elizabeth Abbott. Age twenty-eight. Five-six. The address listed her as living in Los Angeles.
âYouâre a long way from home,â he said, looking from her to the license and back.
âWe just moved here,â she said.
He took the registration next and saw the car was in her name.
âSo whatâs the story?â he asked, flipping open his ticket book.
