Page 26 of The Runaway and the Rugged (Dusty Meadows #1)

EMELIA

I looked ridiculous.

An oversized tee, an even more oversized pair of flannel pants, and a pair of bright red cowgirl boots, courtesy of Greta’s closet. I’ve never looked so mismatched and out of place in my entire life.

After a couple hours of shopping at a local boutique in the heart of Dusty Meadows, I was able to pick out a few nice outfits, along with some rugged “ranch attire” that was meant to handle dirt and other less-than-desirable substances.

Letting Garth foot the bill shouldn’t have been a huge problem for a woman like me, considering Nathaniel never once expected me to pay.

But now, watching as his hard-earned money was being spent on me, someone he barely knew, made my stomach twist. After every charge to his card, I reminded him I’d pay him back, but he shrugged it off as if he didn’t care.

As if it was no big deal.

To make things even more complicated, he sent Grace and me into the grocery store and told me to get whatever I wanted. Already, he had spent so much money and done more for me than I likely deserved, but he didn’t seem to care.

Out of the goodness of his heart, or a man with a savior complex, whatever it was, I was struggling to understand his motive.

He wasn’t just another Nathaniel trying to buy my affection and take advantage of my vulnerability.

Instead, Garth seemed to accept me with quiet concern without the fear of feeling obligated.

And as I pushed the shopping cart with Grace riding along the side of it, she must have picked up on my intention to check out as we made our way to the front of the store.

“That’s all you’re getting?” she asked, glancing down at the few items I grabbed.

“Your dad’s already spent too much on me, so if that means eating ramen noodles and juice, then so be it,” I explained, trying to recall the last time I even cooked ramen noodles.

“He’s not going to be happy.” She shrugged, her subtle warning leaving me to wonder exactly what she meant by that.

“He won’t be happy that I didn’t spend a crap ton more of his money?” I laughed, attempting to figure out the logic there, but when it came to Garth, I don’t think I’d ever be able to fully understand him.

“He told you to get what you wanted, and all this junk is definitely not what you wanted.”

I sent her a look.

“It is what I wanted,” I grumbled, wondering why it felt like I was conversing with a teenager rather than a twelve-year-old kid.

She rolled her eyes and hopped off the cart. “Wait here.”

I slowed down, parking myself beside the fruit section, where she jogged in the opposite direction and vanished down an aisle.

I waited for what felt like ten minutes, and when she finally reappeared with a stack of various boxes obscuring her head, I realized she took it upon herself to pick out more food for me.

“Grace…” I groaned as she came wobbling toward me. Once she was close enough to the cart, she tossed the boxes inside and smiled.

“Now you should be good,” she said proudly as I took note of everything she had just thrown in there, from the oatmeal cream pies to the large box of cereal, I couldn’t help but think that this was exactly that kind of food a twelve-year-old would choose.

“I don’t need all this.” I chuckled in disbelief. “We’ll just tell your dad that this stuff is for you.”

“He won’t let me get any of this stuff.” She pouted, and instantly I knew why she had grabbed them. “But if you get them, I can have some?” She smiled wide, her resemblance to her dad and aunt uncanny with her big, beautiful brown eyes and thick dark bangs.

“I don’t see why not, unless you’re allergic to any of this crap?” I didn’t need another reason for Garth or any of the other Calhouns to think even more badly of me.

“No, I’m not, he’s just stingy about me eating junk food and sugar.”

I nodded, not entirely surprised that he and his daughter ate healthy. I mean, his body was a clear indicator of how well he took care of himself.

“Fine,” I grumbled in surrender. “But you can only eat it at the cabin. I don’t need your dad finding out that I gave you anything he doesn’t want you having,” I explained, giving her a cautious glance.

She nodded eagerly in response, her eyes shining with excitement and promise to keep our agreement a secret.

A little while later after checking out, and walking the cart through the parking lot to Garth’s truck, he swiftly exited the driver’s side with ease and helped load it all into the bed.

“Got everything you needed?” he asked, lightly pushing me to the side so I didn’t have to help load any more groceries.

“Yes, thank you, again.” I’ve said thank you about a thousand times today and they all felt needed. Still, I don’t think he grasped the gravity of my gratitude, no matter how hard I’ve tried to make it known.

“Doubt you’ll be thankin’ me tomorrow,” he joked, shooting me a quick, playful glance that made my eyebrow rise. “Going to have you break in those boots while we get you acquainted with the horse stalls.”

Horse stalls?

Instantly my mind ventured to horse manure.

“Sounds… fun.” I forced a smile that only deepened his grin.

“Fun?” He snorted. “Oh yeah, it’s a real fun time out there.”

I almost rolled my eyes, but decided against it, knowing damn well I didn’t have a leg to stand on.

“And will you be the one showing me the stalls?” I hated how overly hopeful my tone sounded, but thankfully he didn’t seem to catch on as he placed the last bag inside.

“I invited you to stay, didn’t I?” He brushed past me to get the cart.

“Yes…” I stood uncomfortably beside the tailgate, with music now blaring from inside the truck and sweat clinging onto my back.

“Then yeah, Outlaw, it’ll be me taking you to the stalls. You’re under my wing now.”

My neck flushed hot as he passed by me leisurely, pushing the cart back to the cart return.

I followed him close with my eyes as they mapped out the layout of his body.

Muscles flexed, legs moved with confidence, it felt almost forbidden to be watching him the way I was.

Especially with Grace only a few feet away sitting in the truck, likely surveying the entirety of our interaction.

I dropped my gaze in an instant.

You aren’t here for… that, I mentally reminded myself.

After shaking off my obvious attraction, I hopped into the passenger side of the truck where Grace was busy singing along to a Morgan Wallen song in the back seat, trying her best to hit the same note as him.

I couldn’t help but laugh at her expressive flair and attempt to sing the song with the same enthusiasm of the upbeat tempo.

It reminded me of my mother and how carefree she was in the passenger seat of the car while Dad drove.

Singing along to songs I didn’t know the lyrics to while peering back at me as I watched in horror as she made funny faces and insisted that I sang along with her.

A memory that would stay with me forever and right now, watching Grace, I felt an overwhelming sense of home.

A feeling I’d desperately longed to feel again, and surprisingly enough, was felt in a place I didn’t know existed until now.

I fought back the tears that threatened to fall. Grace was oblivious, lost in her own little world, and Garth, he had just reappeared and was finally jumping into the driver's seat.

“Goddammit, Grace,” he cursed, immediately turning the dial down on the volume. “You trying to make your eardrums bleed with that shit?”

Grace chuckled, falling back into her seat.

“Morgan Wallen isn’t shit, Dad.”

Garth groaned, throwing a heated glare into the rearview mirror.

“Don’t say shit,” he rumbled low. “And he ain’t that good.”

I was finding their bickering to be more than entertaining, especially when Grace got under her dad’s skin, which seemed to be always.

And to my shock, Garth would play along. Not all the time—after all, he was a dad—but when he did, it never failed to bring a smile to my face.

“He’s better than good and he’ll be even better when we see him in concert.”

“That’ll be a you and Aunt Greta thing,” Garth muttered as he shifted the gear into reverse, laying a palm onto the back of my seat as he turned his head to peer out the rear window. A moment later, he had reversed the truck with ease, then steadily shifted back into drive.

“Emelia, you could go with us too,” Grace added as I twisted my head around.

“If I can find some sort of part-time job, sure. It’s been a while since I’ve been to a concert.” I smiled, noticing the way Grace’s face brightened.

“You like him too, huh?” Garth asked, a hint of annoyance laced in his tone.

I had a strong feeling he was forced to listen to him a lot due to Grace.

“He’s okay.” I shrugged. “I’m not overly huge into country music.”

Grace groaned as though my words had genuinely saddened her.

“Well, you better get used to it around here.” He shot me a glance. “It’s the sound around these parts.”

“You’re a country fan?” I questioned, though I was almost positive I knew the answer.

“Runs deep in my veins, Outlaw,” he made clear before changing the station on his radio. A low, static thrum of George Strait played and surprisingly, Grace started to quietly sing along.

“Beau sings too!” Grace added from the back. “I might like his singing a little more than Morgan Wallen.”

An image of Beau up on a stage, singing and charming all the local cowgirls came to mind. If anyone could embody the country star persona, it would be Beau.

“Does he play anywhere?” I asked curiously as Garth appeared less than interested in the topic of Beau.

“Yeah, at The Lonely Barrel. He plays on the weekend sometimes, right, Dad?”

Garth grunted.

“About twice a month,” he answered.

Peering over at Garth, he effortlessly turned the wheel with one hand.

“What’s The Lonely Barrel?”

“A country bar just on the outskirts of Dusty Meadow.”