Page 19 of Stranded with a Bossy Rancher

I open the online search program on my computer. There’s no reason people would be searching me online, I’m a nobody. So I type in Elliott Barnett’s name in the search bar and hit enter. I’m holding my breath and let it out in a loud whoosh when the first thing that pops up is a picture of Elliott and me at dinner last night.

None of this makes sense, but the headline is right there, and it makes me physically ill.Millionaire Cattle Rancher Elliott Barnett Is off the Market. And then in smaller font under that, it says,Barnett is no longer Jefferson’s most eligible bachelor.

“No, no, no…” I say as I keep reading.

Right now, the published article says that the woman is unknown, but I know that’s not true. They’ve figured it out, and somehow they’ve figured out I’m pregnant. This is not good. I warned Elliott, and he didn’t seem to care, but now I’m sure he will. This will ruin his business and his reputation. If they know what they know already, it won’t be long before they find out I’m pregnant and the father is a married man.

I know what I have to do.

I grab a piece of paper and scrawl out two short sentences and lay it on the keyboard of my computer. For just a second, I wonder if I’m making a rash decision, but I know this is the best thing to do. I know that after one night with Elliott, I want more, and it’s better to go now than later because I know that whatever this is between us is not going to last.

Without another thought, I run up the stairs to my bedroom. I grab my still packed suitcase and throw the few clothes and toiletries I have strewn around into the bag. I don’t want to leave, but I know it’s the best thing to do. Elliott will do whathe thinks is right because that’s the kind of man he is. And no matter how much I wish I could stay here with him, I’m not going to force him into this situation, and that’s exactly what I’d be doing if I stay.

I carry my bags to the car in the pouring rain and throw them into the backseat. I have no idea where I’m going, but I have to go.

I pull out of Elliott’s long driveway trying to avoid the puddles and big holes the torrential rain has made in the gravel and dirt road.

I get around the bend, and without even thinking, I drive straight through a flooded road. Halfway through it, I know I’ve made the wrong decision, but I keep going, saying a little prayer along the way. I let out a sigh of relief when I come out of it on the other end. As soon as I cross the bridge, I’ll be downtown, and I can stop and think about what I need to do there.

I’m almost to the bridge when my car starts to stall out. It sputters and spits before coming to a halt just before driving onto the bridge. My windshield wipers that were going so fast have stopped, and the rain pelts against the front glass.

The tears start to come in earnest, and even though I’m lost in tears, I’m still startled with the sound in front of me. It sounds like steel crumbling, and I grit my teeth at the atrocious sound. I can’t see anything, but I know it’s bad.

I get out of my car and look in front of me, and my mouth falls open. The bridge that was there only moments ago is completely wiped out, and the water is rampaging in front of me.

I’m frozen in place as I realize what could have happened if I was on that bridge when it collapsed.

I’m so lost with what’s happening in front of me that I don’t even realize Elliott is next to me until he lifts me in his arms. His voice is thick with emotion. “You could have died, Camille.”

He holds me tightly against his chest as he carries me back to his truck.

I’m not sure how he does it; the man must have superstrength because he opens the car door and places me in the passenger seat in one fell swoop. Gruffly, he demands, “Don’t move.”

His windshield wipers are still going, and I watch as he walks back to my car and grabs my bags and then walks back toward his truck. He throws my stuff in his backseat and then jumps into the driver’s seat, pulling out with a slide on the wet pavement.

He stops suddenly. “Shit, I’m sorry. Put on your seatbelt.”

And I don’t know why, but the fact that he’s still worried about me and trying to take care of me goes all through me. I start to cry harder—these damn hormones—and I struggle with my seatbelt. No matter how many times I jerk it, it won’t budge.

He puts his hand over mine, and a calm comes over me. “It’s okay. Let me get it.”

He pulls the seatbelt, and of course it works for him. He fits it around me and then huffs out a breath before driving again.

He doesn’t spin his tires or speed; he just drives us back toward his ranch.

He’s quiet the whole way, and I can’t stand the silence. “I’m sorry,” I murmur to him.

I see his hands tighten on the steering wheel. “Me too, Camille.”

I glance at him, and his jaw is pulled tight. “Why are you sorry? You have nothing to be sorry about.”

He shrugs. “I’m sorry that you felt you almost had to kill yourself to get away from me.” He runs his hands through his hair. “I’ll have someone look at your car in the morning, and then you can leave once the road is cleared. You’ll be stranded with me until then.”

I bite on to my lip and stare out at the view in front of me. It’s so different than the drive away from here. When I was by myself, I was scared and unsure, but with Elliott, there is no fear because I know I’m safe with him. I know I’m cared for.

“I wasn’t trying to get away from you.”

He gives me a look that says he doesn’t believe me.

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