Page 40 of The Runaway and the Rugged
One arm went over her lap as the other reached behind her back and grabbed a hold of the reins. Once again, we were entirely too close. Her shoulder was leaned comfortably against my chest while her head began to bob side to side with each trot from Ella. Her head nearly collapsed into the crook of my neck as she seemed to struggle to keep her eyes open.
“No, my suitcase with all my clothes is with Nathaniel.” She groaned.
Meaning she most likely wouldn’t be getting it back. Once he was delivered the bad news that the wedding was off, there was no chance he’d let her have it now, not without having an opportunity to talk to her.
He was undoubtedly the type of man who’d use revenge as a way to cope with a bruised ego.
“Well, if we aren’t able to get it back, I’ll bring over some clothes that you can at least wear for the night.”
Either from Greta’s closet, or mine. Preferably hers, but that didn’t stop me from imagining Emelia dressed down in one of my T-shirts. A sight I had no business envisioning, but couldn’t stop even if I tried.
It took her a minute to respond. I almost thought she had fallen asleep, but when she spun her head to the side to peer up at me, I realized she was wide awake.
“Why are you being so nice to me? I mean, you do tend to grunt a lot, which makes things a bit confusing at times, but I get the feeling you don’t have much control over that, do you?”
Grunt? I don’t fucking grunt, I just breathe heavily sometimes. And I’ve told Grace a million and one times the same damn thing. If anyone was a grunter, it was Griff.
“Have no reason to not be, Outlaw,” I responded truthfully. “Besides, I’m making amends for bein’ a class A jerk' when I found you.”
The prettiest laugh that reached her eyes engulfed the space around us. Everything about it was painfully real, painfully perfect, and so painfully out of reach I had no other choice but to look away.
“A class A jerk, huh?” she teased, surprisingly calm for the position she was in. “You didn’t hurt my feelings, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
That was the last thing I wanted. If I could turn back time and change how I responded, I would. But it was a split-second reaction kind of thing, seein’ a pretty woman alone, worn out and defeated on the trail. It was a sight that made me see red.
Still does now.
“Not even a little,” she added, suddenly making me wish that I had.
Maybe then she wouldn’t look at me like I was some sort of savior and I wouldn’t feel so hell-bent on being her protector. But as I carefully tried to determine whether it was a lie or not, it all fell recklessly onto the back burner as soon as I risked a glance downward. Soft jade eyes collided with mine, and for a heavy moment, she was all I could see.
A type of face that would leave a lasting mark on Hideaway Haven. One that would make the bluebonnets and Indian blankets bloom from the mere sight of that radiant fuckin’ smile, and those mesmerizing eyes that could possess the power to tame even the most unruly of horses.
What she was, was an accelerant to my heart that hadn’t pounded so vigorously in years. Fuckin’ dangerous, and if I didn’t nip it in the bud quick, I’d end up doing somethin’ careless that even my inner thoughts couldn’t risk voicing.
With Ella left to navigate on her own, I quickly mustered up enough willpower to pull my stare off Emelia, and peered ahead.
“Maybe I’m just better at hiding it than I thought,” I muttered beneath my breath, prompting a silence for the remainder of the ride.
Lord, whatever you have planned for me, don’t let this woman become my undoing.
12
EMELIA
“Quick ride,” I commented, needing a reason to break through the stillness around us.
Silence and Garth were proving to be a deadly combo. It made my mind wander to places it shouldn’t, imagining things that were so unapproachable and inappropriate that the only thing to put out that wildfire was to spout out whatever nonsense that came to mind.
“Figured you feel more safe being close to the house.”
He figured right.
Then bringing Ella to a stop just beside the tiny little cabin, he started to dismount from the saddle.
“How many cabins are there on the ranch?” I questioned as Ella shifted on her hooves from Garth stepping down.
“Five.” He reached for my waist and slowly lifted me from the saddle. Then repositioning his hold, I found myself once again in the bridal style carry that he previously had me in.
