Page 13 of Runaway for the Mountain Man
Feels homey, like this is something that can become a pattern.
Getting up, I slip into the shower long enough for Josie to make herself comfortable. When I find her sitting at the table with a cup in her hands, she’s frowning at her dress.
“I thought about getting it cleaned and selling it, but now that I’m looking at it, it’s past that point. Had to cut myself out to get free of it.” Taking a sip, she sighs. “I may need to borrow some more clothes. I’ll pay you back—”
Stopping her with the lift of my hand, I move to make myself a cup. “What are you going to do?”
“I need to get my stuff before I can leave. The only problem is what’s waiting for me when I go to do it.” Her soft expression morphs into discomfort. “I need to face my mother.”
She proceeds to tell me a little more, mentioning that the wedding she ran from wasn’t even one she arranged. No, some old crow has been calling the shots.
“I’ll come with you, if you’d like.”
She blinks. “Really? The woman can be terrifying.”
I snort. “Pretty sure I’ve faced worse.”
I know a few men who have terrifying mothers-in-law. One way or another, I’m going to add my name to that list.
Josie sighs behind her coffee cup, fingers tapping restlessly against the ceramic. “I would appreciate that, actually. But, uh… we might face more than just her.”
I don’t get it—not at first.
She digs through my wardrobe like it’s her own, taking clothes that she looks like she wants to keep. That’s not the suspicious bit.
She’s borrowing one of my hats when it’s time to go, tugging the brim low over her face, and swiping the sunglasses from my truck’s dash like she’s preparing for a heist. That’s when the first alarm bells go off.
By the time we pull up to the motel she’s staying at, my grip tightens on the wheel.
There’s a crowd.
Not just a few curious onlookers—reporters or journalists. A couple of cop cruisers idling near the entrance, officers leaning against hoods like they’re waiting for something. Or someone. From the way Josie stiffens beside me, her breath hitching just slightly—yeah. It’s her they’re after.
I cut the engine, eyeing the scene. “You’re not secretly in trouble, are you?” My voice is light, but the question isn’tentirely a joke. I throw her a sideways glance. “That wedding was the only thing you were running from, right?”
Because, look—if she’d robbed a bank or something, it wouldn’t exactly deter me. Hell, might even make her more interesting. But I’d at least like to know if the woman who spent last night in my arms is dodging the law and not just a runaway bride.
Josie grimaces, sinking lower in her seat like she’s trying to disappear. “Worse, actually.”
I wait, hoping for the best, but expecting the worst. All of this has been too good to be true. There has to be a catch, and this is going to be it.
She exhales hard. “I’m famous.”
When I stare at her, she rolls her eyes.
“Well?” Her lips purse, but her blush grows.
“I, uh,” I grunt and take her in, hoping it’ll make her feel better. “I really don’t know who you are, if that means much.”
There are a hundred ways to be famous, and she’s quick to reassure me that she’s famous for good reason. She’s an actress. One of those women who’d play in all those corny holiday romances that would play on repeat through Christmas.
Again, she’s displayed on television, and the best man to ask for her hand is one through an arranged marriage?
She deserves so much more.
“Listen, I’m not really into that stuff, so I don’t really know the extent of all of it, but my offer still stands. Not going to let a few people with cameras, or anyone get in your way. Though if the cops try to stop me, I think I may become pretty useless.”
Trying to joke and make the air a little lighter, she scoffs and shakes her head.
