Page 5 of The Runaway and the Rugged (Dusty Meadows #1)

EMELIA

I was beginning to feel a twinge of regret for getting into Beau’s truck. The feeling hadn’t fully consumed me yet, but the farther we drove into vast nothingness, the more unsettled I became.

Where in the hell was he taking us?

“Don’t worry, it’ll all make sense soon enough,” Beau spoke beside me as if he recognized my apprehension.

I cast a sharp glance in his direction, catching a soft smile pulling on his lips.

“What?” He chuckled lightly. “I’ve noticed you tense up at least a million times, and your breathing has been all over the place.

Trust me, you have nothing to worry about. ”

Another subtle blush broke out across my cheeks. I couldn’t stop it even if I wanted to.

“It’s… it’s not you, Beau. I feel like being in a constant state of worry is my new normal.” An awkward laugh tumbled from my mouth but eventually dwindled into an edgy sigh.

Why did I have to say it like that?

Then quickly peering over at Clarke, I was relieved to see that she was sleeping.

“I’m guessin’ all the worrying you have is because of your fiancé?” he asked, his tone softening in what sounded like genuine concern.

I’ve always worn my emotions on my sleeve. It was a curse. So, it didn’t surprise me that he had put two and two together and implicated Nathaniel as the cause.

I just wish I didn’t feel like I was throwing him under the bus.

“He is… partly to blame, yes,” I underplayed his role as best I could, but even then, with a sharp disbelieving glance in my direction, I knew Beau wasn’t buying it. “But I’ve always been an anxious person, overthinking things when I know I shouldn’t.”

“Sounds to me like you’re human, sunshine.” He threw a wink at me before refocusing back onto the road. “Overthinking is a pretty widespread thing, and I know it may be hard to believe, but I suffer from it from time to time.”

It was hard to believe considering how arrogant and overconfident he came across, but in reality, I had no idea who Beau really was.

For all I knew, he could be just like me.

Trying to preserve the facade of being a happy, carefree person while on the inside your making every effort to not feel so empty.

“Well, I’m glad to hear that I’m not the only one,” I whispered, careful not to disturb Clarke.

“Far from it too,” he added as if to ease my mind some more. Surprisingly, it worked. “Anyway, enough of all this serious talk, what’s your story? You and Lil’ Miss Stubborn over there.”

Thankfully Clarke was sound asleep and didn’t hear the nickname a second time.

“My story? Well, it's definitely not as colorful as Clarke’s.” I chuckled, reminiscing about the days when we were young and surviving adolescence. Where she was worried about learning to perfect her motocross skills, and I was trying to figure out exactly who I was.

And still am…

“I could have guessed that from the moment she called me an asshole,” Beau teased, and while most men would have been offended, he seemed to have taken it as a challenge.

Like he wanted to rile her up even more to see just how far she would go.

“Don’t take it personally. She finds all men assholes.”

“And I’m sure she has her reasons.”

She did. She had several justifications and reasons why she felt the way she did, but my instincts told me that Beau was nothing like the men she was used to.

Instead of continuing on the topic of Clarke and her aversion toward men, I went on to answer his previous question.

“We were both born and raised in the outskirts of New York,” I began.

“Our upbringings were a bit different. My parents were both teachers at a high school, so as you can guess my life was pretty structured. And Clarke’s, they owned a freestyle motocross team…

So, she had a more adventurous childhood compared to mine. ”

He shot me a look. “Does she ride?”

I wanted to laugh.

Does she ride… Clarke lived and breathed performing heart-stopping stunts. It was a thrill that coursed through her veins like oxygen, passed down by her parents who felt the same rush of adrenaline. Everyone who had ever seen her ride knew she was born to do it.

“I think she knew how to ride a dirt bike before she knew how to walk.” I chuckled while shooting a quick glance over at Clarke. She was still slumped over with her arms across her chest and a cute little wrinkle on her forehead.

“And what about you, sunshine? You don’t strike me as a dirt bike riding type of girl.”

“That’s because I’m not.” I laughed. “Clarke tried to teach me when we were younger, but I ended up in a ditch with a broken wrist. So anything with a throttle, I steer clear of.”

Beau erupted in laughter. Startled from his reaction, I took him in with wide, confused eyes.

Nathaniel rarely laughed at things I said and when he did, it always seemed forced. So, I just assumed I lacked a sense of humor around men. But seeing Beau clearly amused by what I said, a warmth had spread throughout my chest, causing a smile to pull at my lips.

I knew I wasn’t destined to be a comedian or anything, but I always had a gut feeling that Nathaniel was the one who lacked humor.

And I think Beau just proved my theory right.

“So what is it you do then?”

Once his laugh had dwindled, the weight of his question began to sink in.

Not often was I asked what my profession was.

Even in the company of Nathaniel's friends and colleagues, most of them were uninterested in knowing anything about me. They just saw me as a woman who was lucky enough to have caught his attention. But in the moments I found myself lost in thought, I often wondered what my life would be like if I would have never met Nathaniel. If I’d finally have a degree and be living somewhere on my own,

“I, uh… I don’t really…” I stammered, unsure of how to respond without sounding like a complete leech. In the beginning it sounded great to be taken care of emotionally and financially. Especially at the ripe age of eighteen when I was desperately trying to figure out what I wanted out of life.

But as time passed, I found myself further immersed in the lavish, controlled lifestyle of Nathaniel.

Where anything you could have ever wanted was more than attainable, yet seemed impossibly out of reach.

I was no longer the bright-eyed, naive girl whose head was filled with endless dreams and possibilities, and instead was a woman who was desperately clinging to the hope that one day that same girl would reemerge.

“It’s complicated,” my stare darted downward as a torrent of humiliation engulfed me.

God, what he must think of me.

One word, weak.

“Hey, I get it.” He nudged me softly with his shoulder. “None of my business.”

He was right. It wasn’t his business, but that didn’t stop a pit from forming in my stomach. It wasn’t his fault for asking a perfectly reasonable question, if anything it was mine for being so careless to my future self who desperately yearned for more out of life.

It wasn’t like my regrets didn’t replay endlessly in my head, but more so I chose to ignore them until times like these when I was reminded.

“What’s your story?” I somehow managed to claw my way out the discomfort hovering in my gut and diverted the question over to him.

“Not much to tell, really. I suppose I’m just your typical small-town boy born and raised in Dusty Meadows.” He shot a brief smile in my direction before refocusing back on the road.

I eagerly waited for more, but it never came.

“That’s it?” I teased. “I think anyone could have guessed that.”

He laughed.

“Oh yeah? Well, let’s hear it then, sunshine. What do you think my story is?”

“Hm, okay. Well, let's see here.” A hint of a smile lifted on my mouth. “You’re Dusty Meadows’s notorious bad boy. A natural flirt, and a magnet for trouble.”

He scoffed teasingly.

“And judging by all the marks on your hands, I’d say that you're a tradesman? Maybe a builder?”

“Not a builder, but good eye, sunshine. I do work with my hands,” he added, flexing his fingers along the steering wheel while shooting me a wink.

I rolled my eyes, “You like to hide behind humor. The flirting, the joking, it's all a defense mechanism to distance yourself from your emotions. You’ve done it for so long, you do it without even thinking now.” As soon as the words came out, I regretted them.

I had no room to talk about defense mechanisms when I used them myself.

It was the pot calling the kettle black.

I watched his jaw go taut and his relaxed composure went stiff.

Crap.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that,” I whispered as my hands found their way into my lap.

It felt like an eternity before he responded. Even the loud rumbling of the truck's engine wasn’t enough to eliminate the tension until finally he let out a laugh.

“Damn.” He chuckled, drawing my attention to his palm that was kneading his chest.

“That was totally uncalled for, and I’m so sorry.” With utmost sincerity, I shot him a sympathetic look.

“Don’t worry about it, ’cause you’re spot-on with your assumption, sunshine.” He sent me a wink, but beneath that wink, I noticed a sadness lingering in those eyes.

Heartbreak?

Whatever it was, I had no business asking.

That’s why the rest of the ride was spent in silence. I was too embarrassed, he felt too exposed, so the next twenty or so minutes dragged on painfully slow until something came into view.

“Home sweet home.” Beau grinned, his head slightly nodding toward the left side of the road, causing my eyes to follow.

It was the first sign of life that I had seen in miles since we drove through the small town of Dusty Meadows. And by life, I meant an archlike gateway that resembled something out of the Wild West.

As we approached the wide entrance of a driveway, I inclined my body forward to get a better look. The only word that I could use to describe what I was looking at was impressive. An entrance crafted of tall stone pillars, dark wood, and rustic metals, it exuded rugged beauty.