Garrett Bravo's Runaway Bride. Christine Rimmer

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СКАЧАТЬ was a fine moment and he savored the hell out of it.

      “Garrett,” she whispered, like his name was her secret. And she tucked her blond head under his chin. She felt so good, so soft in all the right places. He wrapped her tighter in his arms and almost wished he would never have to let her go.

      Which was crazy. He’d just met her last night, hardly knew her at all. And yesterday she’d almost married some other guy. She could seem tough and unflappable, but she’d had way too much stress and excitement recently. The last thing she needed was him getting too friendly with her.

      Gently and way too reluctantly, he set her away from him. Biting that plump lower lip again, she gazed up at him, her expression both hopeful and a little bit dazed.

      “Now, listen.” He ached to stroke a hand down her pale hair, to cradle her soft cheek in his palm, but he didn’t. “What do you say I take you back down the mountain? We’ll be in Justice Creek in less than an hour and you can—”

      “Stop.” In an instant, that dazed, dewy look vanished. Her soft mouth pinched tight. Without another word, she grabbed her purse and headed for the Jeep, Munch at her heels.

      Garrett followed at a distance as she climbed up to the road. He gave her time to stick her feet in his flip-flops and usher the dog in on the passenger’s side. When she jumped up to the seat and slammed the door, he circled around the front of the vehicle.

      As soon as he got in behind the wheel and pulled the door shut, she commanded, “Take me back to the cabin or I’ll say goodbye right here.”

      He let the silence stretch out before coaxing, “Come on. Don’t be that way.”

      Her tight mouth softened a little. “I’m sorry. I’m just not ready yet to deal with all the crap that’s waiting for me back in the real world.”

      “I meant what I told you,” he warned. “I’m going home Wednesday.”

      She turned her gaze from him and stared blankly out the windshield. “I understand.”

      “Cami, when I go, I’m not just leaving you alone in that cabin. You don’t even have decent shoes to wear.”

      “I know.” She looked so sad.

      And he had that need again, to touch her in a soothing way—to clasp her hand or pat her shoulder. Or better yet, to pull her into his arms where she felt so good and fit just right. But he kept his hands to himself.

      He spoke firmly. “If I take you back to the cabin now, you have to agree that you’ll be ready to go down the mountain with me on Wednesday.”

      “I’ll be ready.” She met his eyes then. “I’ll go when you go. I just need a few more days on this mountain of yours where no one can find me.”

      He eyed the faded, baggy T-shirt he’d given her to wear, the jeans she had to hold up with a battered old belt and the too-big flip-flops that had to be a real pain to walk in. “How ’bout this? We drive down to town and get you some clothes that fit you, then come right back up to the cabin?”

      Her lush mouth got pinchy. “Nice try. I’m not going down there till Wednesday. I’m just not. I want this time away from everything, Garrett. And I’m going to have it.”

      “We can use my credit card if you’re worried they’ll—”

      “No.”

      “Well, then, I could take you back to the cabin and then go down myself and get you some better clothes.”

      “Better clothes can wait till Wednesday.” Her pinched look had softened. “Please. Will you just let it go?”

      He figured it was about the best deal he was going to get from her. “Fair enough,” he said gruffly. And he had to hand it to her. She’d picked the right place to disappear. No one was likely to come looking for her up here.

      She was smiling again, her good eye a little misty. “You are the best.”

      “Sure.”

      “I mean it. You are.”

      “So how come I have so much trouble telling you no?”

      “Don’t be a grump about it.” She slapped at him playfully. “I happen to love that you can’t tell me no. My parents and Charles never had a problem with no when it came to me. It was always ‘Camilla, no’ and ‘Camilla, don’t’ and ‘Camilla, behave yourself and do what I say.’ I’ve spent my whole life doing what other people think I should do, interspersed with the occasional attempt to escape their soul-crushing expectations.”

      Again, he had to quell the urge to reach for her. She was the cutest thing, with her black eye and her scrappy attitude. “Well, you’re running your own life now.”

      “Oh, yes, I definitely am.”

      “And we have an agreement. We’re at the cabin till Wednesday and then you’ll let me drive you home.”

      “Got it.” She stuck out her hand and they shook on it.

      * * *

      At the cabin, he had firewood to split.

      She volunteered to help so he got the maul ax, his goggles and two pair of gloves and led her out to the chopping block behind the cabin. “I’ve never chopped wood,” she said cheerfully.

      He put on his goggles. “And you’re not starting now. Not in flip-flops.” A slip of the maul and she could lose a toe. “You can stack the split logs, if you want to.” He pulled on his work gloves and handed her the extra pair. “But take it slow and be careful.”

      “I will.”

      For a couple of hours, he worked up a sweat with the ax. He tossed the split logs away from the chopping block. She gathered them up and stacked them against the back wall of the cabin. Then when lunchtime approached, she went inside to make sandwiches. He washed up at the faucet behind the cabin and joined her on the front steps where she had the food waiting.

      They ate without sharing a word, but the silence was neither tense nor awkward. Just easy. Relaxed. After lunch, he went back to splitting wood.

      When he came to check on her later, she was sitting in one of the camp chairs drawing pictures in her notebook.

      He peeked over her shoulder at a pencil sketch of Munch snoozing at her feet. “You’re good at that.”

      “I wanted to go to art school,” she said as she shaded in Munch’s markings, the beautiful spots and patches of his blue merle coat. “I always dreamed of studying at CalArts. But my father prevailed. I went to Northwestern for a business degree and took a few art classes on the side. Then, the summer I graduated from college, I knew I had to do something to make a life on my own terms.”

      “But your dad wasn’t going for it?”

      “No, he was not. I tried to make him understand that I didn’t want to work at WellWay, that I needed a career I’d created for myself. He just wouldn’t listen.”

      “What СКАЧАТЬ