Page 17 of The Billionaire's Runaway Bride

“Maybe.” I fell asleep to that idea last night. Lauren seems like an outdoorsy girl. I sat near the front porch windows watching her hack at weeds like a woman on a mission. She doesn’t seem to mind the bugs and heat. Now that I know she’s only pretending to tolerate my presence because Marian asked her to, I’m more eager to get her away from the B&B and have a fairer chance of really getting to know her.

Dalton: Dude. Need I remind you of the Appalachian trail incident?

“Please, don’t.” I chuckle though, recalling that week of nightmares when we were eighteen. We got lost, then drunk. Lost again, and more drunk. Too many insects. A questionable run-in with a man Dalton was convinced was a fugitive. And all the rain. It poured the entire time. We gave up halfway to our destination and figured we’d adventured enough.

Dalton: Whatever you do, good luck and remember you are NOT a boy scout.

I do need luck. I feel like I’ll need all the luck possible to reach Lauren.

Because she’s gone. It sure seems like she is. I wander through the house the best I can without being obvious. She wasn’t in the kitchen when I headed there to grab a couple of muffins and a coffee. Nor was she in the dining room where the couple from last night are discussing another hike.

I meander through the rooms, seeking out the blonde who wants nothing to do with me. I know she doesn’t. It’s evident in the way she rebuffs me and glowers. It should discourage me, but I can’t help it. Even if I wasn’t bored, I’d gravitate toward her.

Is it because she’s fighting it so hard? Am I this determined because it’s a case of wanting what I can’t have? That’s such an odd thought, I struggle to believe it. I always get what I want. I’m not used to being told no, and no woman has ever wanted to turn me down.

I pass the front foyer again and browse the pamphlets Marian has in holders hung in the hallway. Even though it’s not ski season, I suppose the mountains are pretty in a distant way. Hiking, tubing, a couple of four-wheeler places. Nothing interests me.

All I want to do is find the one woman who seems absent from the property.

“Hi, Caleb!” Marian pops up, passing with what looks like a housekeeping cart.

“Morning, Marian.”

“Going to check out the miniature putt-putt outside of town?” She smiles, amused at the brochure I have in hand.

“Oh.” I set it back in the holder, not realizing what it was, and shake my head. “No.”

“Not what you’re in the mood for?”

I smile and shove my hands in my pockets. “Nope.”

“How about some hiking?” She hefts the container of rags against her hip. “I can tell you how to get started on my favorite path.”

Again, I shake my head. “I’m, uh, well, it’s pretty hot out there today.” I sound whiny. “I’m no stranger to walking miles a day in the city, but I’m not exactly an expert hiker.”

“How about some swimming?” she suggests.

“That’d be nice.”

“The county pool is only forty-five minutes away.”

I shrug. “I’ll find something. Don’t worry.”

She giggles and heads off.

All I’m in the mood for is Lauren, but I can’t find her. I’ll do my best to ignore the heat and check outside. I can’t imagine her working in today’s heat wave, but when I step out and find the yard looking much better than it was when I arrived, I realize she might be more of a go-getter than I first thought.

I find her scraping big chunks of old paint and wander over.

“Aren’t you hot?”

She glances at me and raises her brows. Then she shrugs, not bothering to look my way again.

“I am.”

I intend the double meaning, wondering if she’ll tease me and claim I’m not hot in the sense of attractive. But she remains quiet, methodically removing loose pieces of paint.

I frown, scrambling to think of something to say.

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