Page 14 of The Runaway and the Rugged (Dusty Meadows #1)

GARTH

E melia smelled good.

Let me clarify, Emelia smelled too fuckin’ good and I couldn’t stop myself from subtly leaning in closer to get a better sniff. Even after walking beneath the scorching Texas sun, she smelled better than anything I’d ever come across.

Like a sun-kissed breeze.

And I hated that I was affected by it. By her smell, her defiance, her everything. She was simply too good to be true. All the more reason to get her back safely and off this ranch before she caused me any more trouble.

The woman was still in her wedding dress, for fuck’s sake. Her emotions were all over the place.

“Your sister is going to hate me,” she mumbled, her eyes vacant and expressionless as we swayed from side to side.

“If my sister hates anyone, it’s Beau.” I tried to lighten the mood, but she gave no reaction. “She won’t hate you. Trust me, she’ll understand more than you think she will.”

Greta’s choice in men was always disastrous, often leading to heartbreak in which either myself or our mom had to pick up the pieces. She was one of the strongest, most sharp-witted women I’d ever known, but when it came to selectin’ a partner, she was absolute shit at it.

“She and Clarke might be the only ones then.”

There’s that name again, Clarke.

Who the hell is Clarke?

“And Clarke is?” I asked, guiding Ella to the right.

“My best friend,” she responded. “My best friend who also warned me not to get married,” she clarified.

“You tryin’ to be hard on yourself again, Outlaw?” My stare dropped to her bare, creamy shoulder. Strands of copper hair mixed in with a spattering of freckles partially covered her skin.

Thankfully, the sight of the white, dangling strap of her dress pulled me from my wandering thoughts.

“It’s sort of hard not to be, but if it makes you feel uncomfortable, I’ll stop.”

Shit.

Was she uncomfortable thinking that she was making me uncomfortable?

“You’re not making me uncomfortable. I just don’t see the need to be so harsh on yourself when you’re obviously not in the right headspace. Give yourself a little grace. Your doin’ somethin’ most women wouldn’t have the strength to do.”

Her head shifted in my direction, but only just enough to give me a brief view of both eyes. It was fast, almost didn’t catch it, but I saw a glimmer of amazement.

Shock.

“You’re right.” I studied the way her delicate throat contracted, fighting the urge to follow the curve down her neck. “I’m just trying to prepare myself for what’s next.”

My muscles flexed.

“If you’re worried about running into your ex, I promise you it won't happen. And if he by chance shows up at my house looking for you, I’ll handle it.” I was protective by nature, but the thought of him showing up, causing a scene, didn't agree with me.

And just from our brief interaction and the way he was talking to Greta, he’d be one to stir up trouble.

“You’ll handle it?” The sweetest-sounding laugh tumbled past her lips. Almost as if she was desperately trying to hold it back, but gradually retreated to her composed demeanor.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

She peered at me with a raised brow, a sheen of sweat glistening along her forehead and cheekbones.

“Growin’ up, we had a fair share of guys showing up at the house lookin’ for Greta.”

“Let me guess, you handled it?” The corner of her mouth lifted in a faint smile.

Distraction looked good on her.

“Damn right I did.” I laughed.

“My instincts are telling me it won’t be much different for your daughter.”

Your instincts are right, Outlaw.

The day Grace brings a boy home, will be the day I check every damn lock in the house.

“We’ll see. She’s a real ballbuster already with a pretty good head on her shoulders. So, it wouldn’t surprise me if she’ll be the one doin’ the handling.”

Her laughter interweaved with mine, sending a warm, reassuring feeling throughout my gut. It’d been a minute since I enjoyed a conversation with a woman who wasn’t family. It’d been even longer since I’d laughed with one.

“A ballbuster, huh? Seems to me like you might have a bit of a wild one on your hands.” Her head swiveled away from me, and for one fleeting moment, I wished she hadn’t.

Maybe she wasn’t the only one in need of a distraction. Maybe I needed this too. Even just for the short journey back to my house. I could simply imagine her as just the breathtaking woman who needed saving, and myself, just a lonely man who was lucky enough to get her on the saddle of my horse.

And I could be wrong, but I had a strong sense that she was imagining the same thing.

“All Calhouns have a little bit of wild in them, it’s a blessing and a curse.”

Ella made a slow trot through a rocky shallow creek, her hooves clacking with each step forward until we reached the other side of the trail. I hadn’t noticed until now that Emelia had nestled herself closer to my chest, her head nearly tucked into the curve of my neck.

If I wasn’t aware then, I sure as fuck was now.

But it was clear her gesture was purely motivated by fear because once Ella made landfall, she pulled away from me as if I were on fire. Jerky, unsteady movements in all, she damn near caused herself to tumble off the saddle.

I suppressed a laugh, but that didn’t stop a smile from lifting on my face.

“Wow,” Emelia announced as if she hadn’t just sought out safety in the comfort of my chest. “She’s, uh, pretty impressive.”

Now that we had crossed the creek, I knew we were only minutes away from the house. I wanted to give her a few more moments of distraction before she’d have to face reality.

“You hear that, Ella girl?” Using my calves, I put some light pressure onto her sides before giving her neck a firm pat.

She was impressive.

“Better tell her thank you.” In response, she let out a low nicker.

Emelia’s body stiffened at the sound, but she quickly recovered as her palm stroked the length of Ella’s mane. If I knew any better, she was beginning to really like her.

“Never thought I’d see the day that a horse would be making me feel better,” she mumbled sweetly.

I knew all too well just how therapeutic horses could be. Ella and I had our fair share of walks around Hideaway Haven. Usually when I needed a breather or a moment to decompress after a long day of work.

“Well, anytime you’re in need of a pick-me-up, you can come visit Ella.”

I wasn’t sure why I offered, it wasn’t like she was stickin’ around here anyway.

A woman like that had options. And hell, who knows what’ll happen by the time we make it to the house.

Maybe all she needed was a moment of clarity and a horseback ride to realize what she wanted was waiting at the altar for her.

Either way, I wanted her to know she’d always be welcome to visit Ella.

“You mean that?” she asked as if she were surprised I’d offered. Even her head spun around on a sharp swivel to make sure my words matched my expression.

The most beautiful shade of emerald glowed back at me. With the sun hitting her eyes at just the right angle, I noticed a dusting of gold speckles around her pupils. They were the kind of eyes I wouldn’t mind getting lost in.

Fucking trouble.

“Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it,” I simply responded before forcing my gaze ahead, and away from a whole other type of mess I wasn’t ready for.

Adrenalines were running high, emotions were fluctuating, it was a recipe for disaster. Nipping it in the bud was my only option at this point. Whatever this was.

Could be nothing.

Could be the delusions of a lonely man thinkin’ that someone like myself had a chance with a woman like her. Whatever it may be, I knew it had to be fleeting. A short-lived interruption from the real world.

Nothing more; nothing less.

If anything, a much-needed distraction for the two of us.

A few minutes of heavy silence passed when we finally approached the bend of the trail, a sharp curve that immediately opened up into the meadow behind my house.

She hadn’t noticed yet, her eyes were firmly set on mine.

“Thank you…” She paused for a moment. “Garth.” My name rolled off her tongue like honey. Like she had purposefully wet her lips just before she spoke, making my name sound like a smooth, whispered promise.

Goddammit.

A woman says my name and immediately my dick thinks it needs to stand at attention. The heat, I’d blame it on the heat for makin’ her voice sound like warm, honeyed whisky.

“Really,” she whispered, a sincereness in her tone that melted through my chest. “Thank you.”

My words were suddenly lost somewhere in the tightness of my throat.

Here I was suppressing a hard-on for the runaway bride while she was trying to be completely genuine with me.

Even her smudged-up face and those red-rimmed eyes didn’t stop her from lifting the corners of her mouth into a timid smile.

I could only imagine what a bare-faced Emelia looked like. Something told me I wasn’t quite ready for that yet, or maybe even ever.

“Of course,” I cleared my throat just as a strong breeze blew past us, sending Emelia’s eyes forward.

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.