Page 39 of The Runaway and the Rugged
Suddenly, out of nowhere, I was kicked firmly in the shin by Greta’s boot, damn near sending me to my knees.
“What Garth is trying to say is, we’d feel more comfortable if you just stayed here tonight. You’ve had a hell of a day and the best thing is to just lay low and for you to get your ducks in order.” Greta had always been better with words, even if I didn’t think anything was wrong with what I had said, to the point it warranted a fuckin’ kick to the leg. “And hopefully by tomorrow, or whenever you’re ready to leave, you’ll be more prepared.”
Emelia appeared torn. Chewing mercifully on her lower lip, she kept silent until releasing a prolonged exhale.
“Okay, one night,” she finally accepted, sending a surge of unexplainable relief through me. Even my shoulders dropped from the weight of her words.
“Good.” Greta beamed wide and happy as if her whole “let’s host a wedding here” idea hadn’t just crumbled right in front of her eyes. And that’s why, despite her being one big pain in the ass, I admired the hell out of her. Even in the worst of situations, she always managed to come out on top.
Hands down the strongest Calhoun.
“Well, now that’s all settled, I best get back to business.” Greta pushed herself off her seat until she was standing beside me. “Think I’m kind of lookin’ forward to kickin’ Mr. Fancy-Pants off the ranch and seein’ that smug face of his collapse.”
Did I say strongest Calhoun? I meant oblivious.
Greta always had a bit of a twisted sense of humor that most weren’t equipped to handle, in addition to choosing the worst moments to speak. Luckily Emelia didn’t take offense or, at least, she pretended she wasn’t offended as the corner of her mouth lifted.
“Just be careful,” I grumbled, still contemplating whether I should go with her or not. “If he or anyone else gives you any grief, call me and I’ll handle it.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” She waved me off with the flick of her hair. “I know the drill.”
Just as she was about to walk away, Emelia began to speak.
“Greta.” She called out her name, bringing her to a stop. “Thank you, again, for being so understanding. I should be the one you’re kicking off the ranch, so, just… Thank you. I’ll be forever grateful for how you handled everything.”
“No need to thank me, just happy to know there’s one less asshole out there that would have been married to someone they don’t deserve.”
With that, she disappeared into the house, leaving Emelia and I alone.
A heavy silence lingered in the air around us, a battle as to who would end the quiet first. She hadn’t bothered to glance at me yet. Not even a peek or an inkling that she even would.
Was she lost in thought again? Or maybe she was pissed at me for demanding that she stay here for the night. Whatever was going on in that head of hers, I may as well have been invisible to her.
That was until I cleared my throat, pulling her attention back to me.
“You ready?” I chose to ask something different rather than repeating the same question as to whether she was okay or not.
Her glazed-over eyes aligned with mine and with a long exhale, she nodded.
“To get out of this dress, yes.”
Fuck.
That was definitely not an image I needed in my head right now, but that didn’t stop me from imagining it. All that pretty hair against endless porcelain skin… put a fuckin’ fork in me, I’m done.
I then quickly shook off those thoughts before using the remainder of my strength of the day and gently lifted a spooked Emelia off the couch.
“Tired of carrying me yet?” she questioned as her voice slightly trembled with breathless wonder.
No,I wanted to respond.Not in the slightest,but instead I grunted as I walked us back toward Ella and placed her onto the saddle once more.
“Dammit!” Emelia cursed, as her head fell back with a groan. I swiftly swung myself up behind Emelia, my brows bunching together in question, all the while my gaze wandered along the tender skin of her exposed throat.
Fuck, quit looking at her so much.
Once I was settled in, I finally found my words.
“Everything all right?”
