Read Billy Bob Walker Got Married for Free Online

the door, saying something to Marie as he went. Suddenly furious, Shiloh went to the door to call after him, "Sam."
    He stopped, turning warily. She took a deep breath.
    "I won't marry him. Don't get to thinking that I'll change my mind between now and suppertime." There— it was said again, and this time, as if to confirm it, there were witnesses.
    He shot a warning, shocked glance over at Marie, who sat frozen between the two of them, trying to pretend she had gone deaf on the instant.
    "I said we'd discuss it tonight, Shiloh. And wear something decent for supper. I can't stand to see much more of that—that thing you've got on."
    Nobody said a word in the still office area as Sam got on the elevator and its door closed silently behind him. Shiloh watched the shut door a minute before turning to the four quiet women. Marie's wide eyes were locked on her face.
    "He took that rather well, don't you . . . th-think?" Shiloh tried to say jokingly, but the words hung and sobbed in her throat, and terrified that she might cry, she slung her purse—the one she'd never put down—high on her shoulder and rushed out the door that led to the stairs. No time to wait for elevators.
    Alone at the bottom of the steps, in the quiet well, she stood drawing deep breaths and fighting down the tears. Nobody—Sam, least of all—comprehended how hard it was for her to stand and fight.
    She didn't want to; she wanted to please her father, just as she'd always wanted to. But this time, she knew. She would never be happy with Michael Sewell. Why couldn't she make her father understand that? It was her life; when would he realize that and be happy to let her live it?
    But so far, she'd kept saying no. She might have given in before, but this time she had to keep fighting. This time, she had a cause so serious she couldn't quit—she hated Michael's guts.
    The thought was so defiant and so strong that it made her feel that way, too, burning away her worries over displeasing Sam. She pushed open the back entrance door and emerged into the parking area. The early spring breeze that brushed her face with a clean welcome carried on it the yeasty smell of baking bread, compliments of Danny Joe Yearling's bakery two buildings down from the bank. Maybe she was hungry. Maybe she needed to eat. Maybe then she'd feel better.
    Flinging the purse into the open door of the Porsche, Shiloh was about to follow it in when the whistle cut across the fragrant air and arrested her motion. Shrill and rednecky, it was a blatant wolfy sound that startled her into looking up.
    "I got to tell you . honey. this is the best view I've had from this window in days. It makes up for all the other times I've been deprived of the creature comforts since I've been in here."
    The sun's rays blinded her for a second or two, but even before Shiloh put up a hand to shield her eyes and clear her vision, she knew to whom the lazy, husky, drawling voice belonged.
    Billy Bob Walker leaned carelessly against the bars of the opened window, the one in the back of Sweetwater's ancient jail. She had glimpsed him only a few times around town after her return from college and then, deliberately, she'd kept her distance. She'd learned her lesson once about the tall man who stood propped in the window facing, his blond, tousled hair shining like glinting gold in the sun.
    Let sleeping dogs lie, that's what Laura always said, so Shiloh ignored him, turning away. But this dog had a different plan.
    "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue? That'd be a shame—I can think of better things to do with it. Things I bet that boyfriend of yours never heard of. Things I didn't get around to showing you all those summers ago when you—"
    Flushing, she twisted back to him. "Will you hush?" she told him furiously. Then she stopped short. For all the taunting, teasing edge to his words, his face was intense and unamused.
    "So, you can talk, after all," he said, a hint of mock amazement in his voice. "Even to