Page 25 of The Billionaire's Runaway Bride

“Yeah. How low could they go? But hey, that’s a them problem. You’re off and living the good life. At least it sounds like you are, and I say it’s about time. I’m so proud of you, girl, taking off and being bold to go for what you want.”

I smile, rolling my eyes. “It’s not a complete vacation. I’m working, hard. But I’m enjoying the chance to do something for myself, something new.”

“Good! Maybe I can come visit one day. This is so good for you, Lauren.”

“Although Caleb can uh…”

“Get on your nerves?” she guesses.

Get under my skin. I shake my head, clearing the thought away. “Yeah.”

I hate to admit it mentally, and I’m not ready to tell Aubrey, even though I trust her, but I’m starting to like the way he gets under my skin. I’ve lived a sheltered life, but still, I’ve never met someone as equally sarcastic as me. Since he headed out of town, I’ve been eager to be in his company again, even if he is an arrogant playboy with a chip on his shoulder.

Chapter 10

Caleb

The drive up Meadow Lane isn’t as horrible the second time around. The rental seems to hang on and remain intact, and maybe my drive back to the Goldfinch is better because I’m so eager to get there. To see Lauren.

I left Vail earlier than I thought I might. I intended to return tonight, but once I spent a couple of days in the town, I grew bored. It’s ironic. I headed out of Breckenridge with the assumption that spending some time in a flashier town might entertain me. It turns out that’s not true. Vail has more to offer. Another bar or two. More crowds. More money. If I was ever in a shopping mood, which I’m not, I’d agree that it has more shops lining its main street. Yet, it was dull. I felt listless and needed something to preoccupy myself with because the one constant that remained in my mind was the woman who rejected my offer to come with me.

Lauren. I wanted her, not only for the obvious reasons of tasting every inch of her delectable, curvy body or savoring how tight she might feel around me. I missed her. In other circumstances, the impact she’s had on me would have worried me. Getting this hooked on a woman I’ve only just met? And one who bristles and fights me at every turn?

The mountain air must be making me nuts, the higher elevation or something. Maybe it’s frying my brain and doping me into something that seems awfully close to a commitment. I have no issue with sticking with something. Work, for example, will always remain my priority. Thatcher Metal Works is my legacy, and I will never shy away from seeing to its success.

But a person? Committing to a woman for more than a fling?

I shake my head as I finish the hilly drive back up the mountain to the Goldfinch.

I can’t really be thinking about Lauren like this. She seems flighty and doesn’t seem ready to trust me. She fights me and tries to get on my nerves constantly, and I won’t lie that I do the same. It’s too fun, too easy to rile her up.

As I pull up though, I know my impatience to hurry back is because I want to be with her. To hang out with her. I’m subjecting myself to a slow, torturous tease to want her without being able to have her. Until she comes around and tells me that she wants the same thing, I won’t act on it. Still, she’s humoring me as I flirt with her. She’s not shy about showing that I’ve gotten her attention. Thinking back to the way she stared at me at the creek has me groaning all over again. I don’t care what she says, I know what lust looks like.

Regardless of the way she’ll resist me, and no matter what her reasons are to do so, I yearn for her company. I miss her, and I simply want to be back in her orbit, figuring out how far I can push her and hoping she’ll give as good as she gets.

I exit the car and scan the for area for one feisty, stubborn blonde. The front yard looks better, and if I’m not mistaken, she must have mowed again. She either loves doing yardwork or Marian has a set schedule for chores. It has to be the former. I can’t see Marian being a hard boss to please. She’s too sweet and mild-mannered.

“Dammit,” I mutter. I see no sign of Lauren anywhere. Maybe she’s busy with something else Marian needed done. The hospitality business has to come with many twists and unexpected tasks, but I feel peeved, realizing how much I was counting on seeing her sooner than later.

“Did you try the house ale at the pub on the corner?” Marian asks when she spots me. I squint to see in the sunshine and make out her frame in the shadows on the porch. She’s not swinging there, but on a stool next to it. Once I climb the steps, I realize she’s painting the porch swing peach.

“I did.”

“And?” She huffs at her hair that’s coming over her face.

I grimace and waffle my hand. “It wasn’t bad.”

“Oh, poo on you. You and your big city tastes.”

When she says it, I know it’s a gentle tease paying homage to where I come from, not a derogatory slur. “I enjoyed it though.” The best I could while wishing Lauren was there with me.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“What’s this?” I ask of her project. I prop my butt against the porch railing. As soon as it creaks in protest, I push off of it. “You know, this could be a safety hazard.”

She sighs. “I know. I know. Lauren was telling me that too. I’d already known the wood was rotting. It seems John didn’t seal it well.”

I nod, glancing at the railing that she’s mentioned before. One night when I was swinging on the porch swing, she joined me and confided that her late husband constructed it. If she’s aware that it’s failing, she might be reluctant to replace it for sentimental reasons.

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