The Billionaires' Brides Bundle

He held the phone at arm’s length. At shoulder height. He went through the inane dance steps of the frustrated wireless user.

Nothing.

Cursing under his breath, he went to the front of the car. To the rear. Trotted up the road. Down the road. Stepped across the narrow, gravel-filled culvert that ran alongside it. Stepped back into the road. Into the middle of the road…

Miracle of miracles, a bar blinked to life on the screen.

Lucas grinned, pumped his fist in the air—and lost the bar. Easy, he told himself, easy. Move an inch at a time. Watch that screen…

Yes!

The bar was back. And another. And another…

“Look ooouut…”

His head came up. A horse the size of a brontosaurus was galloping toward him, a rider hunched over its neck. He saw the animal’s dilated nostrils, heard the pounding of its hooves…

“Damn it, look ooouut…”

The yell came from the rider. Lucas jumped back, stumbled and rolled into the culvert as the horse thundered past with barely an inch to spare.

Lucas shot to his feet. He shouted; the rider looked back. Lucas saw a worn ball cap. A grungy T-shirt. Jeans. Boots.

And a boy’s startled face.

The rider was a kid, damn it, skinny and long-legged, riding without a saddle or stirrups. Was riding people down what passed for fun in this anteroom of hell?

Lucas shook his fist. Let fly with a string of Spanish obscenities.

The kid laughed.

Fury welled in Lucas’s gut. If only the damned car worked! He’d jump into it, gun the engine, catch up to the horse. Pull the reckless brat off its back and teach him a lesson!

A gust of wind swept down from out of nowhere, plucked at the dust rising in the horse’s wake. When it settled, horse and rider were gone.

“Lucas? Are you all right?”

He shot a look at the car. The near-collision had, at least, driven Delia out of it.

“I’m fine,” he growled.

“That horrid animal! I thought it had killed you.”

Lucas dusted off his jeans. “And you wondered,” he said tersely, “how in hell you’d get out of here on your own.”

“You’re in a horrible mood today, Lucas. I was worried about you. Yes, perhaps I did wonder…” Delia’s eyes widened. She giggled.

“You find this amusing?”

“Well, no. It’s just that you have something in your hair…”

He reached up. Closed his fingers around a handful of tumbleweed and threw it aside.

“I’m delighted to be the source of your entertainment.”

“Don’t be such a grouch.” Delia slapped her hands on her hips. “You can’t blame me for—”

“No.” His voice was flat as he walked toward her. “I blame only myself for our situation, Delia. Not you.”