Page 32 of The Runaway and the Rugged
Just then, a whirlwind of dark hair and a long, flowy yellow dress had appeared from around the corner of the house. Her signature Stetson plopped onto her head and a stomp I’d recognize from anywhere, my sister Greta came barreling toward us.
Hands raised with a scowl the size of Texas on her face, I knew we were about to be in for it.
“Oh god, she looks mad,” Emelia mumbled nervously as she subconsciously leaned herself farther into my chest. I didn’t blame her. Greta was a force to be reckoned with and right now, she was comin’ at us with the speed and determination of a dust storm.
“Relax, her bark is worse than her bite,” I reassured, nearly brushing my mouth against her ear.
At this point, nothing was going to ease her worry until the day was done and over with, but I knew I had to at least try to remove some of the angst any way I could.
“Oh… My… God.” Greta marched through the tall grass and wildflowers with purpose, each step more charged than the last, all the while her eyes were laser-focused on me.
Why the hell is her wrath directed at me?
Her breathing was erratic as if she’d been running around the ranch like a maniac. Cheeks the shade of tomatoes and both hands placed onto the curves of her hips, she appeared seconds from detonating.
“Where in the Sam Hill have you two been?” she questioned, her tone bordering the line of relief.
“Greta, you need to relax for a second, all right?” I should’ve known better than to tell my sister to relax because it usually had the opposite effect, but right now, I was dealin’ with two distressed women and saying something was better than saying nothing at all.
“Relax?” she snapped with the cock of her hip.
Oh fuck, here we go.
“Are you seriously telling me to relax right now after I’ve been runnin’ around like a headless chicken looking for Emelia?” She had a thousand-yard stare as if she had just gonethrough something traumatizing. Even her usual smooth, wavy hair was a mess of tangles and knots.
“Greta, I am so sorry.” Emelia’s soft, regretful tone had me glaring down at Greta. Couldn’t she sense that something was wrong? “Please, don’t be upset with Garth. I’m the idiot who got lost on one of your trails and was lucky enough to be rescued by him.”
She was taking the blame, and although I had to agree that none of this would have happened if she hadn’t wandered off, it didn’t mean that I liked it. In fact, I hated that she felt bad for following her gut feeling. There was nothin’ to be sorry for. Yeah, she could have taken a different approach, but who was I to judge?
She was safe, that’s all that really mattered.
Emelia shifted herself on the saddle, signaling she wanted down. Reluctantly, I loosened my hold on the reins, but before helping her onto her feet, I lowered my mouth to her ear. “Don’t like hearin’ you call yourself an idiot.”
Emelia’s wide eyes flashed to mine for a split second before returning to Greta.
With my hand steadying her waist, I communicated with the nod of my head toward Greta to help her down.
She directed a scowl at me, but it quickly faded when she stepped toward Emelia.
“You’re okay?” Greta asked, the anger in her voice now shifting into genuine concern. “You’re not hurt or anything, right?” She gently directed Emelia off the saddle and the second she landed onto her feet, she let out a painful whimper.
“I’m fine, my feet are just a little sore.” She attempted to brush it off, but the way she winced as she adjusted her footing made me think otherwise. Greta’s brows clashed together as her stare darted downward, then quickly shot to my hand that was still holding her heels.
Without another thought, I was dismounting from Ella.
“Oh, Emelia,” Greta chastised, using the same tone of voice she used with Grace. “Your feet got to be on fire.”
“They’re really not that… OH!” Emelia squealed as I settled in behind her and carefully plucked her off her feet. With one arm under her legs and the other supporting her back, she was nestled once again into my chest.
Too stunned to speak, her startled expression was the only reaction I received. Well, that was until Greta opened her mouth. “Garth!” She sputtered with a look of horror spread across her face. “You can’t just manhandle her like that, Jesus!”
She was right, I shouldn’t have, but I was more than uninterested in having a pointless argument about whether she should be on her feet or not. Instead, I took it upon myself and made the decision for her.
“Imagine what her fiancé would think if he walked around the house right now and saw you holdin’ her like that.” Greta crossed her arms over her chest, clearly unamused and worried at the same time.
I glanced down at Emelia, silently questioning whether she wanted me to be the one to spill the beans to Greta or not. It wasn’t my place, nor responsibility, but I figured admitting it once to a complete stranger was more than enough humiliation for one day.
And if I needed to take some of the heat, then so be it.
