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  "Well, in fairness, I am the sexiest woman in the world."

  "And you're always right."

  "You are so brilliant to recognize that."

  He helped me to my feet and got handsy settling my dress back around me comfortably. Then he held me in place and stared down at me for a long moment.

  "Am I really sexier than Gloriana?" I asked.

  And that got me a slow, very sexy smile. "Sorry, don't think I know anyone by that name."

  And then he took off his suit jacket, wrapped it around my shoulders, and walked me back up to the party.

  Thief

  Jeri Smith-Ready

  Everything's better on the road.

  Take rainbows. The ones up in the sky just sorta sit there. But the ones on the highway—spiking up through the water tossed by the tires? They dance and shimmer and hurry along with us. They're going places.

  I leaned my elbows on the barrier between the school bus stairs and the front seat, staring at the rainbow following the silver minivan ahead of us.

  One, two, three, four, five, six ...

  The bus peeled off at the exit. I kept counting, watching the rainbow, twisting a lock of my hair, sticky with curling gel. Seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven.

  I craned my neck, but the rainbow disappeared from sight. I sank back into my seat, my stomach heavy. An even number of seconds meant good luck, but an odd number? Well, it would've been better if I'd never seen the rainbow at all.

  As the bus turned onto our road, something hit the back of my head, too big to be a spitball. I pulled the crumpled paper from my thick blonde curls, which had gone frizzy in the South Carolina humidity. I figured it was another nasty note calling me Traveller trash or Gypsy whore. Country folk kids weren't real creative.

  It wasn't a note. It was a ten-dollar bill. Okay, maybe they were getting more creative.

  The bus clanged with my classmates' cackles. I glanced at the driver, who kept her eyes on the road. Yep. Everyone—teachers, principals, cops—looks the other way when country folk harass Travellers. They figure we got it coming.

  I turned to scan the crowd of smug faces. That stupid sophomore Eric Scheier was grinning at me from four rows back. I wanted to give him the finger, but I knew that would be the moment the bus driver would miraculously regain her sight.

  So I gave Eric my coldest, meanest, most brain-splitting vampire glare. Which would've knocked him on his butt, had I actually been a vampire.

  Eric put up his hands all fake innocent, and laughed some more.

  The bus jerked to a stop at my corner. It was "my" corner because I was the only one in our Traveller group who went to the public high school. Heck, I was one of maybe half a dozen out of hundreds who went to any high school.

  I scooped up my bag, then stalked back to Eric. I leaned over and smoothed the ten-dollar bill across his chest. "You dropped this, honey."

  He ripped his gaze up from my boobs to my face. Beside him, his girlfriend, Sally, scowled at his horndog eyes.

  "Cassie, you oughta thank me," he said. "I'm saving you the trouble of stealing it."

  I leaned over further, whispering in his ear. "How many times I gotta tell you?" I slid the bill up and tucked it into the top of his polo shirt. "We ain't. All. Thieves."

  "Miss O'Riley, you get off this bus!" the driver called. "I got a schedule to keep."

  "Sure thing." I picked up my bag, dropping Eric's wallet inside, and strode off the bus, back into my world.

  It's true what I said, that not all Irish Travellers are thieves. Thanks to the media and a few big arrests by the feds (I miss you, Granddad!), people think all any of us do is run scams and pick pockets.

  But it's not totally true. Travellers just have a bad reputation. One we O'Rileys aim to live up to.

  The sun was shining even hotter now, like it was trying to one-up the rain. I sighed with relief to get under the shade of the oak trees, even though the Spanish moss was dripping like crazy on the sidewalk.

  Behind me I heard one of my favorite sounds in the world—the engine of an Audi S-4. I pulled back my shoulders and added extra swing to my hips.

  "Hey there, darlin'," drawled the honey-soaked voice. "You need a date tonight?"

  I lifted my chin and went full-on Southern Belle. "Ah'm sorry, sir, but I'm spoken for on this fine evening."

  "How spoken for?"

  "A fair young gentleman has secured my hand in marriage."

  "Does this boy know how lucky he is?"

  "I don't know." I stopped and turned. "Does he?"

  Liam Flynn grinned up at me, halting my heart. "Get in."

  Inside the car, the air-conditioning was cranked up, but that wasn't what made me shiver as I wrapped my arms around Liam's neck and kissed him like we'd been apart for a year instead of a day.

  A horn honked behind us. Liam waved at the rearview mirror and put the car back into drive. "Sorry you had to take the bus again."

  "I'd rather you make your PT than give me a ride home." I dug out Eric's wallet. "Besides, it was good profit."

  "How much?"

  I opened the wallet. "About a hundred, plus credit cards." I slipped the wallet into the compartment between the seats. "Can you make Eric's life miserable?"

  "With just a few clicks of the mouse." Liam waggled his finger in the air. His hand trembled more than usual, but sometimes after physical therapy he was extra tired. "Should I give Eric the Moldavian Heiress routine or the Do-Not-Fly- List treatment?"

  "Whatever you're in the mood for."

  "I can't have what I'm in the mood for." He gave me a sly smile as he threaded his fingers through mine. "Not for two years."

  I banged the back of my head against the headrest. "Sometimes I don't want to wait one more day. It's torture." I pulled his hand to rest on my thigh. "Now I know why most Traveller girls get married when they're fourteen."

  "You're the one who wanted to wait until we finished school."

  "I'll be old before I finish. After I graduate I'm going to college and then med school. And then maybe law school. Or business school, I can't decide." I stroked the back of Liam's hand. "If we got married now, I could concentrate in class instead of thinking about how much I want to see you naked."

  "No, because then you'd be distracted by memories of me naked. Horrible flashbacks. Like nightmares, except you'd be awake."

  I smacked his shoulder. "Don't even joke."

  "I'm just sayin', to prepare you, for one day." He pulled his hand out of mine and smoothed the right leg of his Catholic school uniform khakis. "It ain't pretty."

  "Pull over."

  "Huh?"

  "To the curb. Now."

  He did as I asked, and I jammed the gear shift into park. Then I grabbed his thin shoulders and brought my face right up to his.

  "You've always been the most beautiful boy I've ever known. You always will be. Okay?"

  His gaze slid off me, like he couldn't bear the truth in my eyes. "You mean on the inside, right?"

  "No!" I took his face in my hands and pressed my forehead to his. "You got any idea how late I lie awake at night, remembering every little inch of your face?" My fingertips traced his cheekbones. "I play back every kiss in my head in slow motion, again and again until I know I'll never forget it."

  His sea-blue eyes searched mine, like he was looking for the teeniest chink in my faith. "Cass, I gotta tell you something."

  "Go ahead."

  "You gotta get out of my lap first."

  I sat back in the passenger seat, knocking my knee against his cane. "Did your therapy go okay?"

  "It wasn't just PT this time. I saw the doctor. It's not good."

  "But you've been doing your exercises."

  "I know, and if I weren't it'd be worse. But he says—" Liam hesitated, running his tongue, then his teeth, over his bottom lip before speaking to the dashboard instead of me. "He says by the time I'm twenty-one I'll probably need crutches, and when I'm twenty-five—" He swallowed. "I might be in a
wheelchair."

  My heart thudded at the thought, and for a second my mind blanked. But I've never been one for wallowing. "That's okay. We'll get a rancher house."

  He raised his eyes to meet mine. "What?" he said, almost breathless.

  "That way you won't have to worry about stairs."

  "You still want to marry me?"

  I hesitated. "Will you still be able to—I mean, can we still have kids?"

  His face relaxed into a smile. "I'll still be able to . . . and yes, we'll have as many kids as you want. Everything still works in that department."

  "Oh, good." I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding. "Then there's nothing to worry about. My daddy gave us his blessing before he died, and not even Brendan'll break that promise." When my father drowned two years ago, his twenty-one-year-old brother married my mom. It's gross, because Brendan's young enough to be my brother, and now he's my stepdad. But I guess it beats her marrying some old wrinkly guy.

  Traveller marriages aren't like non-Travellers' (or "country folk," as we call them when we're being nice). It's old- school—the parents make the matches, and the kids agree to it. Maybe two families want to go into business together, or a girl's father needs a son-in-law who's good at paving. Since the groom leaves his family to join his wife's, the bride's parents usually pay a dowry.

  Basically, it's all about family and money and keeping our people at peace. Love is a bonus.

  But I got lucky, first in having a mother who wants me to do something with my life other than get married, manage the family finances, and—most important—have lots of babies (though she says babies are 100 percent nonnegotiable).

  Second lucky thing was having a father who wanted a son-in-law whose brains were bigger than his biceps. He always said we O'Rileys were special, so why should we marry someone average?

  Third and most humongous lucky thing—finding Liam. Lucky, not just because he's cute and funny and kind, but because his family wasn't asking much of a dowry. Lovable and affordable.

  "I can still drive," Liam said. "It's not like I'll be paralyzed. I just might not be able to control my legs so well all the time." He touched my face with a wobbly hand. "But I'll fight this, if I got you to fight for. I'll dance at our wedding, even if it's just a slow dance."

  "You better." I snuggled up to him again, closing my eyes against the air conditioner's icy breeze. "We can practice tomorrow at Bridget's reception. I swear I'm catching that bouquet even if I have to gouge Ellie Sherlock's eyes out."

  "I heard the girl who catches the bouquet at a vampire wedding has to be dessert."

  I laughed. "Nuh-uh."

  "It's true. I read it online."

  I sat up to look him in the eyes, which sparkled all kinds of wicked. "Liar."

  "Thief." He pulled me into another kiss, one without a scrap of doubt.

  "Let's go to my house," I said when I could catch a breath. "Maybe Nana will be out shopping."

  Liam put the car in drive so fast, the tires squealed. He watched the road as he drove, but he must've felt the way my eyes burned into him, because he didn't stop smiling.

  Until he caught sight of my house.

  Spooked by Liam's scowl, I flipped back the sun visor to see a man on my roof. "What does he want now?"

  "What does he always want?" Liam parked in the driveway, hitting the brakes a little too hard. I handed him his cane, which he took reluctantly.

  "Don't help me out of the car," he said.

  "Duh." I pretended to sift through my bag for my keys, to give him time to get on his feet, so I wouldn't be waiting for him and making him look weak.

  Finally I joined Liam at the end of the brick path leading to our front door. The shirtless young man on my roof, Gavin Mallory, straightened up and turned around.

  "Oh, hi, Cass." He swiped the sweat off his broad, bare chest. "Hot one, huh?"

  "You'll get sunburned, idiot."

  "Nah, too late in the day." He cracked his knuckles, then laced his fingers behind his head, sweeping back his dark hair and displaying every muscle in his chest and arms.

  To be totally honest, he was a magnificent specimen of maleness, but I'd say the same about my uncle Donal's Rottweilers, Thomas and Aquinas.

  "You practicing your scams on my grandmother?" I asked him. "Pretending to fix her perfectly good roof?"

  "Your dad called me, said to see if she needed any work done around the house." He finally looked at Liam. "Man's work."

  "What else did Brendan say to you?" No way I'd call my stepfather by anything but his name.

  "Can't tell you." Grinning, Gavin picked up the hammer and tucked a pair of nails into the corner of his mouth. "Your Nana might, if you ask real nice."

  "When's he and Mama coming home?"

  Gavin shrugged. "Depends."

  Like most Travellers their age, my mother and stepfather went on the road during the spring to earn money. They'd get me when school let out so I could work with them, then we'd all come back here in the fall. Just because we call ourselves "Travellers" doesn't mean most of us don't have houses.

  I started down the front walk and noticed Liam wasn't following me. When I turned, I saw his and Gavin's eyes locked like dogs about to fight. Or like vampires about to attack.

  I rattled the screen door handle, pretending it was jammed. The noise got Liam's attention, and he followed me inside. I heard my grandmother banging around in the kitchen.

  "Nana, there's a troll on the roof," I called as I sifted through the mail on the hall table. "Want me to call the exterminator?"

  "Cass?" She came out of the kitchen, holding a tray of brownies in oven-mitted hands, then stopped short. "Liam."

  He smiled at her. "Hi, Mrs. O'Riley. Those smell awful good."

  My chest tightened as I realized the brownies had chocolate chips. Nana only made double-chocolate brownies when something bad had happened. Like when Granddad got arrested for racketeering, and later, when he was sentenced to thirty years in prison. And then again when my father died.

  "Why did you make those?" I asked Nana with a quivery voice.

  "I . . . uh, it's a family matter." She glanced at Liam.

  I touched his arm. "Liam's family. There's nothing you can tell me that you can't tell him."

  She bowed her head, then shook it slowly. That tight feeling in my chest spread to my stomach.

  "It's okay. I'll go." Liam kissed my cheek. "Call you later, let you know how that thing with Eric worked out."

  I'd completely forgotten about stealing my classmate's wallet. I had a feeling a school bully was about to seem like a teeny problem.

  When he was gone, Nana sighed. "Such a good boy. Respects his elders. I always hoped he could teach you that." She tilted her head back toward the kitchen table. "Let's sit."

  I crossed my arms. "If you have double-chocolate-brownie- worthy news, you better tell me right now."

  "They're burning my fingers through these old mitts." She set them on a souvenir trivet from Bennettsville—the town where my granddad's serving out his term in federal prison—then slowly tugged off the shamrock mitts. "Your father called."

  "From beyond the grave? Hallelujah, it's a miracle."

  "Your stepfather," she said with an edge in her voice. "He says business is real good up there."

  "Up where?"

  "He can't say over the phone. Anyways, now that our family will have a little more money, he says that changes things for your future."

  "Like school?" Maybe I could go to my pick of colleges instead of whichever would give me a full scholarship. Travellers don't do loans.

  "No, not college." She fidgeted with her wedding ring, turning it around and around.

  "Nana." I stepped forward and gently took her hands. "Tell me his exact words. That way it won't be like it came from you."

  She gripped my fingers. "He said, 'Now that I've got money, I can afford a higher quality son-in-law.'" The wrinkles deepened around her eyes. "I'm so sorry, sweetpea." />
  I couldn't breathe in. I could only force out more and more air, like a fish stuck on a creek bank. "H . . . h . . . high ..."

  "You want to sit down?" she said. "Have a brownie?"

  I drew in a breath, so hard I almost choked. "Higher quality?" I pulled away. "What am I, a mare looking for a stud? This is my life we're talking about."