Page 37 of The Runaway and the Rugged
Her expression softened as she took both my hands in hers and squeezed gently.
“No more apologizin’, all right? We may not know each other all that well, but when it comes to a fellow female, I’ll always take her side over a man any day of the week,” she reassured, prompting my chest to expand in relief.
I didn't expect her to side with me so easily. If anything, I expected to face much more grievance or at least an onslaught of questions as to why I wasn’t going through with the wedding. Instead, she decided to trust me.
“I had already planned on asking if you were really set on marrying this guy.” Her scarlet mouth curled at the corner.
If she only knew she wasn’t the only one to ask that question.
“Emelia, no offence, but good riddance.” She gripped my hands in a tighter embrace. “The second I met that man, I hoped and prayed that the woman he was marrying wasn’t going to be a good-hearted person and, goddammit, that asshole does not deserve you.”
Good-hearted?I don’t think I’ve ever been called that before. Definitely many other cringey accolades by Nathaniel, but never a compliment that had me flushing and genuinely speechless at the same time.
“It only took me until my wedding day to realize that.” A wistful smile touched my lips, and if it weren’t for both sets of eyes on me, I would have let seven years’ worth of held-back tears fall freely.
But rather than giving in and conveying just how fragile I felt on the inside, I did what Greta demanded I do and womaned the fuck up while holding my chin up high.
“Better late than never, Outlaw,” Garth added, his body hanging closely behind his sister with his hands shoved deep into his pockets.
“Dodging a major bullet with that one.” She released her grip on my hands and leisurely rose to her feet while brushing off her knees. “Now we just have to figure out a way to tell him without igniting World War Three.”
Not just an argument, not just a poignant, intense fight, but World War Three. The words hit me like a bomb detonating in my chest, and just when I thought the worst of it was over, it wasn’t.
“Tell him to get the fuck off our ranch. What else is there to say?” Garth answered, as if it were an easily accomplished task.
His confidence was admirable, but I knew better than to think it would be as easy as a few quick words thrown at him to get him to leave. It was more like someone would have to drag him by the skin of his teeth to get him off the ranch, and luckily there were a few cowboys here that could handle that.
Not that I wanted them to, but in the worst-case scenario, I had a strong feeling Garth wouldn’t let Nathaniel linger much longer on his property.
“Last thing we need is for you to have to explain to Grace why her dad got into a fight today.” Greta nailed Garth with a “you better listen to me” leer before settling her gaze back on me. “Beau and I will handle it.”
“I’m not letting you go back there, are you crazy?” Garth growled as he seamlessly removed the hat from his head and dragged his fingers slowly down his scalp. My throat immediately went dry as I followed the movement, but when his eyes strayed over to mine, I swiftly averted my stare.
“The big brother act was cute when I was twelve. I’m thirty now, I don’t need you to play my protector anymore.”
He grunted, obviously refusing to pick up what she’s putting down.
“Besides, Emelia’s friend Clarke will be there and if I’ve read her correctly, we won’t even need Beau’s reinforcements.”
She had definitely read her correctly. Clarke was the city version of Greta, minus the Southern accent and cowgirl boots. Both were like fire and ice who had no problem with putting men in their place.
“Beau would be about as useful as a glass hammer,” Garth grunted.
“A glass hammer?” She chuckled. “Can’t you have a little more faith in your ranch hand than that?”
Garth muttered something under his breath before setting his hat back onto his head. He looked worn out, eager to get the day over the day over with already.
“And you,” Greta suddenly brought me back from my thoughts as I felt her attention shift over to me. “What are your plans now then? If you need our help, just say the word and we can get you out of here quick.”
That was the foremost issue; I had nowhere to go. With no money besides what little I had in my wallet, I wasn’t financially prepared in any respect.
“I haven’t—I haven’t actually made any arrangements yet.”
It was one bad thing after the next and from the way Greta’s face slipped into a frown, it wasn’t the reply she was looking for.
“Emelia…” She sighed heavily before shooting a steely glance at Garth. “Have you not thought any of this through? I mean, I’m not in any position to judge, but you put yourself in one hell of a pickle now.”
If I wasn’t so ashamed right now, I might have laughed at the use of her word pickle. Because she was right. I was in a major fucking pickle and as if to make matters worse, my stomach began to audibly growl as if I hadn’t eaten in months.
