Page 85 of The Runaway and the Rugged
“And how closely have you been working with Garth? Closely as in helping him just as much off the ranch as you are on?” She attempted to imply it in the most innocent, yet objectifying way she could.
My cheeks ignited.
“No, of course not. He’s technically my boss.”
She scoffed.
“All the more reason to then,” she said enthusiastically.
“What do you mean ‘all the more reason to’?” I barked out a laugh, nearly puking from the motion.
I’m never drinking again.
“Think of all the kinky boss-employee scenarios out there. There has to be a ton of them.” The second the words fell from her mouth, I immediately regretted asking.
“Jesus, Clarke. Not everything is a romance novel. Especially this situation. There’s nothing remotely romantic about leaving a man you almost married, all the while struggling to figure out how to live and care for yourself and simultaneously try to figure out who you are as a person,” I went on until silence greeted me.
“Sounds like the perfect beginning to a beautiful love story.”
Of course she would think that. She was a closeted romantic who wanted the fairy tale and happily ever after.
“Definitely not,” I responded with the swift shake of my head. “Besides, after last night, I highly doubt Garth would even consider me a friend anymore.”
“Why? What happened?” she questioned, sounding genuinely interested.
“Let’s just say I made a complete fool out of myself. Drank way more than I should have at a cowboy bar, messaged Garth from Greta’s phone that I stole, and ended up getting manhandled onto a table.” I was so embarrassed I needed to pause to take a breath.
“Wait… hold on a second…” She drew in a quick breath. “Are you hungover right now, Millie?”
She knows I rarely drink, so it must have been a complete shock to her knowing that I did last night.
“More like dying, but just you wait, there’s more… I somehow ended up sending a video of me being lifted onto a table and sent it to Garth.”
She chuckled.
“Please tell me he tore through the streets like a madman to get to you and threw out a whole ‘protective, no one touches her’ scene in front of the whole bar.”
A subtle smile lifted on my face.
“I was out of it by the time he showed up, but I have a memory of him… carrying me.”
And me snuggling into his chest.
I didn’t disclose those details, but it was clear that him just carrying me was gasp-worthy enough.
“That man is in love.”
My eyes made sure to scan the door just in case Grace, or anyone else, decided to barge inside the room. When I was sure no one was there, I responded.
“No, he's just… protective.”
There was another short pause that even had me slightly questioning my own words.
“And why do you think he’s protective?”
Why? Because he’s a good man. A good father. The kind of person who would do that for anyone, wouldn’t he?
Just when I was going to answer, a firm knock at the door sent a jolt through my body, making me tense immediately.
