Page 3 of The Runaway and the Rugged (Dusty Meadows #1)

EMELIA

“ W here the hell did this asshole send us?” Clarke announced from beside me as we descended down the steps of the airplane. The drastic change in landscape had me wondering the same thing as another part of me questioned whether we were in the right place or not.

The air hung heavy with dust and shimmering heat, while the horizon held nothing but endless nothingness. No high-rise buildings, no bustling streets or chaotic sidewalks. A stark reminder that we were far from home.

“I… I’m not sure.” I removed the sunglasses from my purse and propped them onto my face. Everything was filtered through the darkened lens, but it was no easier now than it was seconds ago to pinpoint our location.

“Well, fuck.” She did a three-sixty before letting her head fall back. “Nathaniel Bettencourt, the king of luxury, has brought us to the middle of absolute nowhere. How fucking thrilling.”

“There has to be some sort of mix-up,” I grumbled, searching for my phone through the mountain of items in my purse. “I’m sure this was just a mistake.”

As my fingers wrapped around the smooth texture of my phone case, I paused at the sound of someone calling out to me.

“Ma’am.” A rugged voice cut through my mumbling as both Clarke and I instinctively peered up at the stranger standing before us.

A tall, semi-tatted figure was leaned up against a rusting pickup truck with a toothpick dangling from his lips.

A playful smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as his gaze swept over the two of us.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I assure you there’s no mistake. ”

Confusion urged me to release the phone in my hand and focus heavily on the man that was watching us.

He looked young. Younger than Clarke and me, but it was clear in his muscular build and weathered lines etched on his face that he lived a hard life. With a short mane of golden hair and black ink wrapped around his exposed arm, he looked every bit of trouble.

“And who might you be?” Clarke raised her chin in curiosity as her gaze took in his appearance with unapologetic interest.

He was exactly her type.

Tall, tatted, and exuded trouble.

“Your chauffeur for the day.” He uncrossed his legs and tipped his head in greeting. “Name’s Beau Bennett.”

His gaze lingered over Clarke briefly before slinking its way over to me.

“And you must be Ms. Emelia Quinn.” The corner of his mouth lifted as another tidal wave of confusion struck me.

“Uh… Yes.” I readjusted the strap of my purse and shot Clarke a questioning glance, silently asking, “What the hell is going on?” as if she knew more than I did. “How, uh, exactly do you know my name, Mr. Bennett?”

The small dimples in his cheeks deepened as a low rumble of a laugh tumbled from his mouth. “Shit, sunshine. Haven’t been called Mr. Bennett for a long time.” He shook his head, a playful gleam dancing on his face. “There’s no need to be all proper with me, Beau is just fine.”

Before I could respond, Clarke uncrossed her arms and spoke.

“Listen, Beau, my friend and I were sent into the middle of nowhere and have no idea what the hell is going on. So, if you could fill us in on why we're here, that would be great.”

His gaze returned to her, and this time, a broader smile spread across his face as he took in her fiery demeanor.

“And you are?”

Narrowing her eyes, she let out an exasperated huff.

“My name is Clarke. And now that's out of the way, can you tell us why you’re here to pick us up?”

“If I could tell you, Clarke, I would, but I was strictly told from the boss lady not to say anything.” He pushed off the side of his truck, tore the hat off his head, and raked a hand through his cropped hair.

“Or in her words, I better keep my pretty mouth shut or else she’ll have me shoveling horse shit with my bare hands for the next month. ”

Boss lady? Horse shit? What in the hell was going on?

“Look, if you could just tell us if Nathaniel Bettencourt had anything to do with this then maybe we can move forward from here.”

As we lingered in the sweltering heat, my agitation grew with each passing moment. More so with Nathaniel for putting me in this situation and refusing to tell me what he had planned for me.

“Real fancy dressed guy with blond hair?” he teased, causing a flush to break out on my cheeks.

Annoyed, I blew out a long, drawn-out breath.

“Yes,” I grumbled.

“Yeah, sunshine. I know him.” He grinned, sending my eyes rolling at the unoriginal term. “Met him about a week ago, seems like a… decent guy.”

“Decent,” I grumbled to myself.

Not exactly the glowing praise every woman dreams of hearing about their future husband.

“So, you’re telling me that Mr. I Only Travel to the Most Opulent of Destinations set foot here? In the middle of nowhere?” Clarke chuckled in disbelief, shooting a jolt of humiliation throughout my chest.

Yes, Nathaniel could be shallow at times and perhaps a little one-dimensional, but hearing it come from others made me question my own character.

“Now hold on a second there, darlin’. I won’t tolerate any Texas slander.” It was evident in his smile he was teasing. “I can assure you there’s no place like Dusty Meadows.”

Dusty Meadows?

“Texas?” Clarke gave me an incredulous look. “Your fiancé sent us to Texas?”

I was just as confused as she was. Out of everywhere in the world, he sent us to a small town in Texas.

“He sure did. Told you, ain't no place like it and that fiancé of yours must have picked up on that too.”

My gaze swept across the landscape surrounding us, this time taking it in earnestly.

What could a spoiled, influential titan like Nathaniel find so charming about a small town in Texas?

He adhered to a fast-paced lifestyle, one filled with the finest of luxuries only a metropolis offered.

There was nothing to capture his interest here.

Not when his prestige and showcasing it was far more important to him.

With my curiosity now piquing to a whole new level, I pinned my stare back onto Beau who was stuck in a one-sided argument with Clarke.

And grinning.

“Okay,” I interrupted whatever words they were throwing at each other, causing both their heads to turn in my direction.

“Okay? Okay what?” she asked, clearly not understanding what I meant.

Swallowing the heavy bulge that was caught in my throat, I nodded in the direction of Beau’s idling truck.

“Okay, as in, I want to go with Beau.”

Clarke’s mouth dropped to the floor as her features transformed into a state of shock.

She was the impulsive risk-taker. The rash, free-spirited gambler who was constantly being lectured by me to be more cautious.

And now that the roles were suddenly reversed, she was struggling with the unexpected turnaround.

“That’s real good news to hear, sunshine.” He showcased a show-stopping smile as he rounded the front of his truck. “Now you just have to convince Lil’ Miss Stubborn here that I’m no threat to you.”

Oh boy.

“What the hell did you call me, asshole?” Clarke shouted, her fierceness on full display now as she pierced him with a death stare.

It was all fun and games with men until they gave her a nickname, and poor Beau had no idea who had just awakened.

“Asshole? That’s a funny way of saying handsome.” Beau winked from his new position beside the driver's door.

I used the back of my hand to muffle the laugh that threatened to spill out. Most who encountered Clarke were intimidated by her boldness, including men, but Beau seemed unfazed. Almost like an amused brother provoking their sister.

Clarke flashed me an annoyed scowl.

“Please, for the love of God, don’t make me get in that truck. I’m going to hurt him if I do,” she begged.

I rolled my eyes with a mixture of a giggle and scoff.

“I have a feeling he’s the type of man that would enjoy that, Clarke.”

Her mouth twisted in a grimace.

“Are we really going to get in this rust bucket, Millie?” Clutching onto my arm, she halted me from entering Beau’s truck. “I realize I’m not one to judge, considering how many times I’ve hopped onto the back of someone's bike. But something feels off about this.”

The uneasy vibes she seemed to pick up from Beau clearly hadn’t registered with me in the same way. He seemed like your average Southern gentleman. A little flirty but friendly nonetheless.

Then as if noticing my uncertainty, she smiled reassuringly.

“Not with Beau. Yeah, he’s annoying but he seems genuine. It’s his nineteen-eighties truck and your fiancé that I don’t trust.”

I’ve always known that she didn’t exactly care for Nathaniel, but it was normally in a joking manner when she brought up her dislike for him. With her brow furrowed and an intensity in her expression that was impossible to ignore, I let her continue.

“Why do you think he’s not telling you what he’s got planned?”

Because he knew I wouldn’t have gone.

“Clarke…”

The hand she had on my arm moved to the curve of her hip.

“Come on, Millie. He finally has a ring on your finger and he sends you on a secret trip? Put two and two together.”

I wasn’t oblivious to his agenda, rather, I simply chose to turn a blind eye more to the inevitable.

Those who knew Nathaniel well understood his impatience.

When he set his sights on something, he wouldn’t rest until it was his.

So when I finally agreed to be his wife, I knew it was only a matter of time until he took the reins and accelerated our plans.

What I couldn’t anticipate was when, or how, he would make his next move.

“Are you really ready for what's next?” she questioned, her eyes softening with genuine concern.

It took me a moment to process her words. As if my mind was refusing to let them sink until eventually the weight of them was far too heavy to hold. And once they hit, they hit hard.

Of course I wasn’t ready, but there was nothing I could do to stop it.