Читать книгу Her Wildest Wedding Dreams - Celeste Hamilton - Страница 11

“You need to eat.”

Noah’s comment penetrated Olivia’s nervous preoccupation with the other diners in the small restaurant where they had stopped for lunch.

“Eat,” he instructed, as he had done periodically since the waitress had placed the meat loaf-and-three-vegetable special in front of her.

Olivia knew she should be hungry enough to clean her plate, but who could think about food when at any moment a car of “suits” could drive up. She hadn’t wanted to stop at all, but Noah had insisted.

She shot a nervous glance outside, where Puddin’ waited in a truck cab cooled by a lowered window. Noah had also insisted the diner wouldn’t welcome a dog, even a small one. Olivia wanted to wait in the truck with her pet, but Noah would have none of that, either. She was discovering her driver/rescuer was one bossy individual.

“How y’all doin’?” The hippy, flirtatious waitress sidled up to their table, as she had done at least a half dozen times. Her black-lacquered eyelashes fluttered in Noah’s direction.

He grinned and held out his coffee cup. “Sure could use a refill.”

She obliged with a simper that set Olivia’s teeth on edge.

“You through, honey?” The waitress nodded at Olivia’s plate.

“She’s still working on it,” Noah replied in his irritatingly superior tone.

She set her fork down. “Actually, I am finished.”

Without asking, Noah ordered two pieces of coconut cream pie. Olivia protested. He offered her a quelling glance.

The waitress tittered and retreated, ample backside swaying in her pink gingham uniform.

Olivia sighed her frustration. “We really shouldn’t leave Puddin’ out there like this.”

“The dog is fine. I’m not in the business of cruelty to animals.”

“But still—”

“A person of limited means ought not to waste a free meal.”

“I can pay for my own food,” Olivia protested.

Noah looked skeptical as he lifted his mug. “Better save your money for later, when no one might be offering to feed you.” He savored a long sip of coffee. “Just out of curiosity, how much money do you have?”

“Enough,” was Olivia’s evasive reply. In the two hours since he had agreed to take her to a bus station, Noah had done his best to dig information out of her. Where was she going? Did she have relatives she could call? How was she going to support herself? Of course, Olivia had told him nothing. Besides resenting his authoritative, prying manner, she didn’t know the answer.

She had a vague notion about heading for Chicago. Just after college, she had spent part of one summer in a program at Chicago’s Art Institute. A “suit” had been enrolled in the class, as well, to watch over her at all times, but still she had managed to enjoy the experience. She had made some contacts that summer that her father might not think to check right away. Maybe one of those acquaintances could help her land a job. Teaching perhaps. Working with children. She planned to take whatever job she could find. She had a first-class education. Surely that would count for something.

It had better. She had exactly $448.92 in her pocket, money scrounged from various handbags in her closet. A pair of diamond stud earrings and an opal ring were also in her tote bag.

She had left her engagement ring on her nightstand, and the rest of her jewelry had been locked in a safe. She didn’t feel right about taking any of it. She had left her credit cards behind, as well, not only because cash transactions would be harder to trace, but because she needed to do this on her own. She hoped the cash would get her on a bus and pay for a few days of expenses before she had to sell the jewelry. She wasn’t going straight to Chicago, because that would be too easy to trace. She thought she would head northwest, then south, then to the east.

The waitress brought their pie, and to keep Noah off her back, Olivia downed her slice quickly. He, on the other hand, took his own sweet time.

“I could go for another slice,” he said at last.

That was all Olivia could take. She scrambled out of the booth despite his protests. “I’ll see you in the truck.”

She stopped off in the rest room and frowned at her reflection in the mirror. The braids and absence of makeup made her look like a kid, an image enhanced by the rumpled T-shirt and jeans. Maybe her childish appearance was the reason Noah spoke to her as if she was a ninny. But the disguise might help her, as well. If anyone showed her photograph around this diner, surely the pigtailed ragamuffin she appeared to be wouldn’t be associated with the well-dressed and coiffed Olivia Franklin.

A glance at her watch showed ten past noon. By now, she imagined the ranch was in a full-scale panic. It being her wedding day, she was certain no one would have been surprised when she didn’t appear early in the morning. It had probably been at least ten—over three hours after Noah’s truck had left the ranch—before Mary went to her room and found her gone.

Hopefully her father and the “suits” had latched on to the false trail she had attempted to leave—the reservation she had made on an early-morning flight out of Austin. The address book opened to an acquaintance from school who now lived in Madrid.

None of that would fool them for long. But surely they would chase those leads and talk to the caterers, who had not left the premises until the early hours of the morning. If she was lucky it would be a while before they considered Noah as the means of her escape.

By the time they launched a search for him, she hoped he would be on his way to Tennessee and she would be bound for Chicago by the most circuitous route possible. Which meant she needed to get on a bus—quickly.

This diner was a bus stop, but the next bus due in was only heading for the terminal in the county seat, which the waitress said was just twenty miles up the road. Olivia had pushed for Noah to keep going. But he had suggested…no, he had insisted they eat first, before he drove her on to the terminal.

After one last grimace at her reflection, Olivia settled her baseball cap on her head, pulled open the door and found herself face-to-face with a Texas state trooper.

Terror rooted her to the spot. Dear God, how could they have found her so soon?

“S’cuse me.” The female officer stood back to allow Olivia to pass. The woman smiled, appearing altogether normal, as her polished brass buttons and badge gleamed.

Olivia forced her feet to move and kept her eyes turned downward as she slipped around the officer and into the diner’s small vestibule. When she looked up, fear clutched at her stomach. Another trooper and two other uniformed lawmen were chatting with the hostess while waiting for a table to be cleared.

Not running out of the restaurant took all of Olivia’s restraint. She pushed open the door, trying to appear casual and unconcerned before jogging across the parking lot toward the truck.

Puddin’ greeted her with a friendly bark and jumped into her arms when the passenger door opened. “Get back inside,” Olivia instructed. “Don’t let anyone see you.”

Instead, the dog leaped free and bounded around the truck, barking up a storm while Olivia gave chase. On the other side of the trailer they both came to a halt as a sheriff’s patrol car slipped into a nearby parking space. Olivia fought the urge to scream.

Didn’t these police officers have anything more important to do than hang out here eating pie?

Not even acknowledging this officer’s presence, she simply snatched Puddin’ up and stalked back around the trailer. “I should have left you home, you rowdy mutt. You’re going to ruin everything for both of us.”

Noah, who was walking toward her, gave her an odd look as she climbed in the cab. He paused. “Everything all right?”

She nodded, watching the sheriff’s deputy enter the diner. “I’m ready to go.”

“I’m going to let the horse stretch her legs a bit.”

“Here?” The word came out as a shriek.

Noah regarded her with narrowed blue eyes. “What’s wrong with here?”

Casting nervous glances toward the diner where five officers where now ensconced, she scrambled for a reason. “I doubt that they want horse poop in the parking lot.”

He gave a disgusted snort. “Like I would do something like that.” He pulled the door open. “Get out. You can help me.”

“Me?”

“Surely you know something about scraping up horse poop.”

She wished she could tell him where to stick his horse poop and his domineering manner. But he had helped her. And she still needed him.

So she left Puddin’ in the truck and followed Noah, thankful at least to have the trailer between herself and the diner’s windows.

Seeing Royal Pleasure again was a joy, of course. The horse nickered and nuzzled Olivia with her velvety nose.

“You work with her at Franklin’s place?” Noah asked as they walked the horse through the parking lot. Away from the diner, thank God.

Trying desperately not to keep looking toward the diner, Olivia nodded. “Pleasure’s the sweetest horse.”

“And she breeds champions.”

“Which is why you bought her.”

“She belongs on my farm.”

“Belongs?” Olivia shot him a quizzical look. “Why?”

He shrugged, his handsome features hardening. “Long story.”

Olivia didn’t push, though she studied her companion thoughtfully. Because her father had been dealing in horses for as long as she could remember, she had met plenty of breeders. Noah Raybourne looked more like a wrangler than the owner of a farm.

He was young. Probably in his early thirties. Tall and well built, he had the kind of shoulders that come from continuous hard work. His light-brown hair needed a trim, curling over his forehead and the collar of his worn denim shirt. His jaw was clean-shaven and square, and along with his generous mouth and nose, made for a strong profile. His face was altogether and emphatically male. Except for the long, dark lashes fringing his blue eyes. He wore his clothes with the casual unconcern of a working man. He hardly looked affluent enough to have purchased an animal like Royal Pleasure.

Curiosity getting the better of her, Olivia asked, “This farm you’re talking about. It’s really yours?”

“My grandfather started it. My father worked it. Now it’s mine.”

“Your father’s retired?”

“He died.” The terse answer invited no further comment from Olivia.

Noah walked Royal Pleasure a couple of times around the parking lot. And to Olivia’s relief he merely asked her to lead the mare back to the trailer while he used a shovel and bucket to clean up after the horse.

Finally he flashed a grin at her as he walked Royal Pleasure up into the trailer. “I had you worried about that poop, didn’t I?”

“Not at all.”

“Yeah, you were worried.” Still grinning, he stored the bucket and shovel, secured the horse and ramp and closed up the trailer. “I bet you’ve never shoveled anything in your life.”

“Of course I have.” Shoulders squaring, she started back to the truck. “Let’s just get out of here.”

Back in the driver’s seat, Noah hesitated while Libby settled herself and her dog. Then he took firm hold of her hand, turning it palm side up. “This hand has never shoveled anything, much less horse sh—poop.”

She snatched her fingers away. “That’s not true.”

He waited a moment, studying her small, set features. No one could doubt the determination in her jaw. Just as anyone could see she was completely freaked out about the police officers in the diner. In fact, she had been ready to jump right out of her skin the entire time they were eating. She almost ran out the door. Hell, she almost knocked him down trying to take the side of the booth facing the door.

“I have no doubt you are running from something,” he said at last. “I just hope whatever it is doesn’t land me in a passel of trouble, too.”

She bit her lip. If her father figured out she was with Noah, who knew what sort of fuss he would make.

“Why don’t you just tell me the truth?”

She remained silent, stroking her dog’s fur and staring out the window.

“I might be able to help.”

“You are helping. You’re taking me to that bus station. That’s all I need.”

Noah let out a long sigh. “All right. I guess since we’ve come this far, I don’t really need to know the truth.”

Frowning, he navigated his rig out onto the highway. God only knew why he was compelled to know what she was hiding. Or why he felt so sorry for her. More of that sense of honor he had learned from his mother, probably. The same inclinations had led him to rescue injured squirrels, champion the nerdiest kids at school and stand up to his no-account stepfather. Nine times out of ten his good intentions had ended up costing him. Why couldn’t he learn?

With his luck, Libby was duping him but good, playing on his sympathies with her big, brown eyes, her cute behind, her tears and that bruise on her arm. He wished to hell he didn’t feel this compunction to rescue her.

They drove for quite a distance in silence, while Noah darted glances at her pale face. She kept leaning forward, studying the mirror on the passenger’s side.

“You think one of those officers might come after us?” he asked.

She said nothing, but the frantic glance she sent toward the mirror spoke volumes.

“Just tell me this much. Is Roger Franklin going to be really angry with me?”

“Would you please be quiet?” she demanded. “You’re making me nervous.”

“Because I’m close to the truth. You’ve got something that Roger Franklin’s going to want back, haven’t you?”

“No!”

“Quit lying. What is it? Did you hide it somewhere in the camper?”

“No.”

“In your bag, maybe?”

“Please just shut up!”

“Don’t I have a right to know what I’ve helped you steal from Roger Franklin?”

“I didn’t steal anything,” she exclaimed. “It’s me he’ll be looking for.” The words seemed to burst out of her. “I’m what he’ll want.”

“What are you saying?”

She twisted around to face him, the dog whining on her lap. “Roger Franklin is my father. I’m running away from him.”

Dread kicked Noah in the belly like a fist.

Roger Franklin’s daughter. Good God, the man was going to kill him.

Later, Noah wasn’t sure how he got the truck off the highway. All he remembered was turning into the parking lot of what appeared to be an abandoned produce stand.

Moments after coming to a stop, he dragged Libby—yeah, like that was her name—and her dog across the front seat and outside the driver’s side door.

Once her feet touched the ground, she jerked away from him. “You don’t have to manhandle me.”

“I ought to do worse than that!” Noah let loose the crudest, most vulgar curses he could think of while he paced back and forth in front of her.

Libby huddled against the truck, clutching Puddin’.

Noah turned and stopped. “Are you saying Roger Franklin bruised your arm?”

Her answer was a slow, miserable shake of her head. “I fell out of a window while I was escaping.” She had the grace to at least look ashamed of having misled him about the bruise.

“You went out the window? Ran away?” Noah was just beginning to comprehend her choice of words. “Wait a minute. How old are you?”

She swallowed hard. “Almost twenty-four.”

He cursed again. “You’re an adult. Why couldn’t you just leave through the front door?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Tell me.”

Her sigh was dramatic. “Can’t you just take me on to the bus?”

“No!” he shouted. “From the looks of the security around your home, I don’t think your father takes kindly to anyone making off with what’s his. And he just might think I took you. So you owe me some kind of explanation.”

“You’re not going to understand—”

“Try me,” he ordered.

And so her tale unfolded. Her mother’s kidnapping and murder. Her father’s fears and overprotectiveness. Olivia’s many tries at freedom. Her plans to marry Marshall Crane. Her realization that marriage would only trap her further.

Only then did Noah break in. “You mean you’re the daughter who was supposed to get married today?”

“I’m the only daughter.”

Blood pounded in his temples. “And you just took off.”

“I told you. I couldn’t marry Marshall.”

“And what about him? Did you bother telling him you were leaving?”

“He would have stopped me.”

“Don’t you think you owed him some kind of explanation?”

“It’s not as if Marshall loved me or anything.”

“Then why marry you?”

She managed a short laugh. “I already told you. Marrying me was a way to cement his place in my father’s company.”

“He must have cared about you.”

“I’m sure he cared,” was her impatient, offhand reply. “But it wasn’t about love. I don’t see what this has to do—”

“Right about now this Marshall guy is probably realizing he got stood up. On his wedding day. At the altar.”

“I doubt he’ll even go to the church.”

“And does that somehow make it better?”

She took a step to the side, edging away from him. “I don’t see why you’re so concerned about Marshall.”

Noah pushed his face down close to hers. “Libby, or whatever your name is—”

“Olivia,” she supplied.

“I’m concerned about Marshall because I know how he feels. I’ve been in his place. Standing there. Waiting for a bride who doesn’t show.”

Understanding dawned slowly in her expression. “I’m sorry, but that’s still—”

“You should have had the decency to tell him.”

“And then I wouldn’t have gotten away.”

“You haven’t gotten away.” Stepping in front of her, Noah bracketed her slender body with both his arms, pinning her and her dog to the truck. “We’re going back.”

“I can’t.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

She pushed against his chest, anger sparking in her gaze while the dog whimpered a protest. “I know you’ve done me a favor, but you’re not the boss of me—”

“You made me the boss by sneaking into my rig.”

“But—”

“And lying to me.” Noah gripped her shoulders, leaning in even closer. He could smell the faint trace of her expensive perfume, could see the light sprinkling of freckles across her upturned nose. She looked so damned innocent, so sweet and vulnerable. He could be fooled by her. Fooled very easily.

As if she sensed him wavering, the big, doe eyes she’d fastened on him filled with tears. “I’m sorry I lied to you. Really I am. I just had to get away. I was desperate. Haven’t you ever been desperate?”

What he knew about desperation she couldn’t begin to imagine, Noah thought. He understood all too well feeling trapped and frightened. Compared to him, this woman didn’t know the meaning of the word.

Returning fury thickened his voice. “What the hell were you thinking, using me this way?”

“I had to get away.”

“Didn’t you think your father might assume you went with me? Or that I took you? With your father so worried about you being snatched, isn’t it logical that I might be a kidnapping suspect?”

The muscles in her throat worked as she swallowed. “I never thought about that.”

“Poor little rich girls like you never think about other people, do you?”

Color suffused her cheeks. “That’s not fair. I’m not like that.”

He had to laugh. “So now I’m supposed to think you’re spoiled but good-hearted.”

“I am not spoiled.”

Her protest barely registered with Noah as he warmed to his subject. “You’re spoiled and weak and heartless. Anyone with a heart wouldn’t just leave their groom without an explanation.”

“But you don’t see—”

“I see all right,” he muttered. “I see a pathetic woman acting like a child. If you wanted out of your father’s house, all you had to do was go through the door.”

“It wasn’t that simple.”

“He chained you up? Beat you?” Noah glanced down at the dog she clutched like a lifeline. “Did he threaten to kill your dog if you tried to leave?”

She blanched. “Of course not. He’s not a monster.”

“Then why all this drama? Sneaking out. Stowing away with me.” Noah regarded her with disgust. “It sounds to me like you’re just a little child who likes to play games and create big dramas so Daddy will come racing in.”

“You couldn’t be more off-base.”

“Just do everyone a favor and get some therapy to deal with your daddy complex.”

Olivia had never in her life wanted to hit anyone like she wanted to punch this big, sanctimonious man. She settled for grinding her foot into his.

Shouting a curse, he released his grip on her, and she ducked away. She’d be damned if she would stand here and let him pronounce judgments on her actions. He didn’t know her life, didn’t understand the forces at work between her and her father.

Noah clearly had other ideas. He hobbled around the truck and stopped her just as she was dragging her bag from the passenger seat. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m absolving you of any part in my ‘little game,”’ she retorted. “Thank you and goodbye.”

“Too late for that. What’ll I say when the police or your father’s private security force track me down and haul me in for questioning?”

“I don’t care.”

“And if they decide to throw me in the pokey?”

She made an impatient sound and stalked around the front of the truck. “Now who’s creating a drama?”

He took hold of her arm again. “Just shut up and get in the truck.”

“No!” She jerked her arm from his grip. “I’m not going back. If you try to force me, then you really will be in trouble.”

“Get in the damn truck.” Without waiting to see if she would comply, he swooped in and picked her up.

Olivia was too busy hanging on to a hysterically yapping Puddin’ to fight Noah very hard. She cursed him instead, calling on each and every one of the limited number of obscenities she knew. Then she repeated them again.

He was trying to maneuver her and the dog toward the passenger door when a patrol car sped by on the road.

“Oh, hell,” Noah muttered as the car slowed.

The car turned down a road to the right.

“Maybe they didn’t see us,” Olivia murmured. “Yeah, right,” Noah agreed sarcastically. “This big, white horse trailer is hard to miss. Especially with the two of us in hand-to-hand combat here on the side of the road.”

“But they might not even be looking for us.”

The words were no sooner out of her mouth when the sound of sirens split the air.

The next few moments unfolded like a slow-motion scene in a movie. Three police vehicles—state patrol and sheriff’s—descended one after the other, brakes screeching, raising clouds of dust and gravel. The female officer from the diner was the first to bail out of her vehicle and crouch behind her open car door, calling for Noah to put Olivia down.

Dazed, Olivia said, “They’ve got guns.”

A white line around his mouth, Noah glared at her.

Then she landed in a sputtering heap in the dust.

Noah stepped over her and advanced, hands held high, toward the officers, calling out, “She’s Roger Franklin’s daughter, but I’m not a kidnapper. Just take her away. I beg of you, take her away.”