Page 20 of The Runaway and the Rugged (Dusty Meadows #1)

“I didn’t stand up to him, I haven’t even spoken to him since yesterday morning,” I muttered, dropping my stare to where our hands were conjoined in my lap. “Besides, the only ‘brave’ thing I did was manage to get lost on a trail and survive.”

“Hey now, not only did you survive but you told that prick of an ex-fiancé to get fucked.” She chuckled, causing the corner of my mouth to lift.

“Who cares if you didn’t tell him the seven years’ worth of bullshit you’ve been holding back.

What’s the saying? Sometimes not speaking says more than all the words in the world. ”

Even after being a shitty friend, she still found it in her heart to try and make me feel better.

“And trust me, you left a lasting impression on that man by not showing up to the ceremony. It’ll be the talk of his office for a very long time.”

Oh god.

I could only imagine what all the guests were thinking. Thankfully a majority of them were here for Nathaniel, but that only meant he’d be even more deeply scorned by me.

His ego likely broken. His heart battered. He deserved every ounce of it, but that didn’t mean I enjoyed leaving him the way I did.

“I’m sorry for not telling you the truth sooner.” I peered up through my clumped-together lashes and found her smiling somberly. “I wanted to. I wanted to tell you everything to free myself from the burden of keeping it all bottled up inside, but every time I tried, my fear just held me back.”

“Come on, Millie, aren’t we supposed to know each other as well as we know ourselves?

” She snorted, her hand tightening around mine.

“I already knew you were lying, and do you know why? Because you’re fucking terrible at it.

” She giggled, surprisingly sounding light and airy for someone who looked seconds from strangling me earlier.

“I’m not—I’m not terrible at it,” I mumbled through Clarke’s laughter as my cheeks ignited.

“You are. You’re about as good at lying as I am at making responsible choices.”

My face twisted into a grimace.

“Why didn’t you call me out on it then? I’m surprised you didn’t.”

As her laughter died down, she watched me thoughtfully.

“I thought about it. I wanted to confront you, but I figured you’d come to your senses one day and tell me.”

Shit.

“And, alas, here we are now.” She dropped her hold on my palms and lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “The day you finally came to your senses.”

Letting my shoulders sag, I breathed away the remainder of the anxiety lingering in my chest. Clarke’s face was no longer all hard lines and frustration, but instead a newfound lightness and relief brightened her face.

“About time.” I chuckled, twirling the band around my finger as a whiplash of reality flooded over me.

I was no longer attached to the Bettencourt name.

Not the girlfriend of a wealthy tycoon, not the sweet, quiet young woman who stood as the arm candy of a man capable of having anyone he desired, not anything. I was merely just Emelia Quinn.

Emelia Quinn.

Just the thought of my name, without the stain of Nathaniel, felt so perfectly right.

“Where is Nathaniel… Is he gone?”

Inching her way onto the bed beside me, she dropped her head against the headboard with a sigh. Her light blue dress was stretched out to her ankles, as the thin straps on her shoulders slipped down her arms.

“Yes,” she said on an exhale. “I’ll spare you the details, but let's just say he was sternly removed from the property, thanks to a certain… good-looking cowboy.”

Garth?

My interest piqued almost immediately as my back stiffened like a rod.

“Oh, so you know who I’m talking about, do you?” With her head tilted back, she had one eyeball on me and a fox-like grin on her face.

“No—” I answered a little too quickly. “I… What I mean to say is no, I don’t know what cowboy you’re referring to.”

For all I knew, she could be talking about Beau or the other Calhoun brother, but let’s face it, one was an apparent recluse and the other she could barely tolerate.

“I think you do,” she teased playfully. “Tall, nice muscles, daddy vibes with a rideable stache?”

Oh. My. God.

I smacked her arm, although she was right about everything she said.

“You did not just say that!”

“And you thought I wouldn’t say that after meeting him! Jesus, Millie, I can’t believe you were rescued by that.” She chuckled disbelievingly, sparking my face to go hot.

“He told you?”

Yeah, I found your clueless friend lost on our most dangerous trail and she unloaded about seven years’ worth of tears enough to overflow a goddamn creek.

“He just told me he found you and that you were safe.” She winked. “And he dropped by while you were asleep with some clothes for you.”

Pointing to a random stool parked beside the door was a neatly folded stack of clothes. My heart thumped wildly.

“He seemed a bit… what’s the word?” She pondered. “Protective of you.”

I scoffed.

“Don’t even start this, Clarke. Please. I barely know him, he barely knows me. He’s just being nice. Isn’t that kind of a cowboy trait anyway? Being helpful and protective of women?”

“Or maybe the minute he saw you, he fell madly in love and wants to keep you on this ranch and have lots of babies with you?” she spluttered out with a hopeful yet fun-loving tone that had me bursting out in fits of laughter.

“Oh my god, please stop.” I shook my head while pushing myself off the bed. “There will be no falling in love, no babies, the only thing I’m focusing on now is myself.”

I sauntered over to the stool where the clothes sat, as Clarke’s giggles dwindled down.

“Aw, come on, just imagine the daily beard burn you’d get between your legs from that man.”

Snatching the clothes, I almost tripped over my feet from her words.

“And why would I imagine that? That sounds… far from pleasant.”

“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it, and I know for a fact with Nathaniel’s half-assed beard, you haven’t even scratched the surface of what it’s really like.”

I tossed her a deadpan stare.

“Orgasms, men, babies, all are off the table for the foreseeable future.”

Clarke’s smile faded into sadness.

“I know, Millie. I’m sorry. I’m just trying to help and make this situation not so terrifying for you.”

“You just being here with me helps more than you know. Even if I am a crappy friend.”

“You’re not a crappy friend. A crappy friend would have married him.”

The corner of my mouth lifted.

“I’m going to shower and get out of this dress.” I threw my thumb in the direction of the bathroom as Clarke snuggled into the bed with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Stay here tonight, and tomorrow we will figure out your next steps?” she asked in a sleepy mumble, her eyes teetering on the edge of slumber.

“Tomorrow,” I agreed before making my way to the bathroom. A newfound hope for the future washed over me. I may not know where I’m going, what I’m doing, or how I’m going to do it, but I at least had people in my corner rooting for me.

Even people who hardly knew me.

And as I let out a sigh and set the clothes down onto the counter, I suddenly came to the realization that they weren’t just some random clothes, nor could they have been Greta’s. By the obvious masculine scent, and size, I knew exactly whose closet they came from.

It made my stomach flutter. It made my heart dance.

And after long, hot, much-needed scrubbing, I slipped into the comfy clothes.

Garth’s clothes.