Читать книгу Fugitive Fiancee - Kristin Gabriel - Страница 8

GARRET LORD needed to find a place to hide. Fast. Caught between the corral and the old red barn, he could see the shiny blue Ford pickup truck rattling down the long gravel drive that led to his ranch house. The dual tires kicked up a plume of thick Texas dust that hovered in the fading twilight.

He only had a few precious seconds to take cover before he was spotted. He considered diving into the water trough by the corral, but he didn’t think he could hold his breath for that long.

That left the barn.

He spun on the heel of his cowboy boot and bolted for the barn door, whipping it shut behind him just as he heard the sound of gravel crunching under the truck’s tires. Hubert, his aspiring cow dog, began barking, alerting his master to the new arrival. But Garrett didn’t have to worry about the little black schnauzer disclosing his hiding place. That dog was loyal through and through.

Too bad Garrett couldn’t say the same about some of the people in his life.

He’d learned that lesson early. At two and a half years old, to be exact. When his mother had abandoned him and his younger sisters and brother. He couldn’t even remember her. Not the color of her eyes, or her hair, or the sound of her laughter. When he was a young boy, he used to look for her on the streets and in department stores, certain he’d recognize his own mother when he saw her.

But it had never happened.

Now he was both older and wiser. He didn’t indulge in childish fantasies anymore. It had taken him a while, long enough for another woman to rip away a little piece of his heart when she’d left him stranded at the altar seven years ago. She’d made a fool of him. But when the embarrassment had lasted longer than the heartache, he knew he’d gotten lucky. And he was smart enough not to make the same mistake twice.

Garrett always went with the odds, and love was definitely a long shot. Especially with his track record. Not to mention the astronomical divorce rate these days. Besides, he was more than content living alone. Working alone. Although he did treasure the time he spent with his sisters and brother. Time that was increasingly scarce now that Shelby, Lana and Michael had families of their own. As their older brother, he’d watched over the triplets for as long as he could remember. But they didn’t need his protection anymore.

Now, if he could just find someone to protect him from man-hungry cowgirls.

He leaned toward the door, pressing one eye against a tiny crack in the wood. He could see the front porch and the young woman from the neighboring ranch who stood at the door. Venna held a large covered basket in one hand. No doubt another food offering to entice him into matrimony. Only food wasn’t the way to Garrett’s heart. Neither was her eclectic artwork. Last week she’d given him a painting of a clown to hang in his living room. He hated clowns.

As he slanted his head for a better view, Garrett suddenly realized that he’d been reduced to hiding from a woman. But it was that or endure Venna’s incessant chatter until the wee hours of the morning again. She could talk almost as well as she could cook. And she was forever finding excuses to touch him.

She reminded him of a cat that had wandered onto his ranch a few years ago. Garrett was allergic to cats, so he’d avoided it as much as possible, leaving food and water in the barn, but keeping his distance. But the more he tried to keep away from it, the more the cat sought him out. Rubbing against his boots. Sleeping in his saddle. Leaving cat dander everywhere. When his sneezing and itchy, watery eyes had finally proven too much to bear, he’d foisted the overly affectionate feline on Megan Maitland. She’d always been good at taking in strays.

If only he could get rid of Venna as easily.

“Damn,” he breathed as he watched her try the doorknob, then enter the house. He’d left the door unlocked and a light on in the living room, as well as a slow cooker full of beef stew simmering in the kitchen. All signs that might encourage her to wait for his return. Which meant he could be stuck in the barn for most of the evening.

He turned away from the door and strode down the center aisle of the barn. None of the six horses even gave him a glance, recognizing his familiar step. They stood in their wooden stalls, three on either side of the aisle, chewing contentedly on their evening ration of oats.

“At least the animals on this ranch get to eat,” he muttered, his stomach rumbling. He climbed the plank ladder that led to the hayloft, figuring he might as well catch a few winks on a soft bed of straw while he waited. It beat staying awake and listening to his stomach growl.

The flutter of birds’ wings and admonishing squawks greeted him. No doubt his presence disturbed some of the nesting barn swallows, who didn’t like anyone invading their home.

He knew just how they felt.

“Hope you don’t mind if I join you,” he called to the birds as he reached the top of the ladder.

“Not at all.”

Startled, Garrett lost his grip on the ladder and almost toppled off. When he regained his balance, he stared slack-jawed at the vision in front of him. Sitting atop a stack of golden straw was a bride.

He blinked and looked again. It was a bride, all right. He recognized all the warning signs—the white wedding dress, the gauzy fingertip veil, the white satin spiked heels on her dainty feet. Not to mention the lacy blue garter belt, revealed by the voluminous taffeta skirt bunched up around her thighs.

Before he could get a good look, she hastily pushed her skirt down, concealing the garter belt as well as a pair of long, slender legs.

For one brief moment, Garrett had an irrational impulse to shinny down the ladder and make a run for it. But run where? The house wasn’t safe, and he’d be spotted out in the open. Besides, this was his ranch. His barn. His hayloft. If anyone was leaving, it was the bride.

He climbed the last two rungs, then stepped onto the loft floor. Without giving the woman another glance, he sidled over to the dusty window and looked down at the driveway. The pickup was still there. Hubert was there, too, dutifully marking all the tires.

“You’re probably wondering what I’m doing here,” she said, breaking the long silence between them. Her voice was smooth and soft, like a warm, gentle breeze.

“I can guess.” He clenched his jaw as he turned to face her. No doubt Shelby and Lana were to blame. His sisters had been hinting that his place needed a woman’s touch ever since his housekeeper had retired. They’d brought up the subject again during Christmas dinner last week, even offering to play matchmaker for him.

Despite his irritation, he couldn’t help but be impressed with their choice. Quality stock, no doubt about it. Tall and slender, with generous curves in all the right places. Her blond hair was swept up off her neck, a few errant strands curling around her cheeks. A tiara encircled the intricate bun on the top of her head, the tiny crystals sparkling in the fading sunlight.

She wore only a touch of makeup, and that was marred by the tiny smudge of dirt on her nose and another on her chin. The almost regal way she tilted that dirty chin made him want to smile. But she might take that as a sign of encouragement, which was the last thing he needed.

Then he made the mistake of looking into her eyes. Deep, blue eyes like the Texas sky after a storm. They held him. Captivated him. Something in his belly twisted, but he told himself it was just hunger pains. He’d been working since dawn, not bothering to stop for lunch. That explained the ache deep inside him. He needed food. Rest. He needed to be alone.

Garrett forced himself to look away from her as he brushed the dust off his denim jeans. “My sisters sent you here, didn’t they?”

“No, I—”

“Then it must have been Michael,” he muttered, rubbing one hand over his jaw. “Or Jake.”

“Michael or Jake?” she echoed, looking perplexed.

“My brother and my former friend, if he’s behind this.” Michael Lord and Jake Maitland were once diehard bachelors who had avoided marriage as vigorously as Garrett. But they had accidentally let down their guard, and two determined women had snatched them up. Of course, the fact that Garrett happened to like both their wives very much was beside the point.

Lately they’d been dropping broad hints that Garrett should follow in their footsteps. But a bride in his barn? So much for subtlety.

Only what the hell did he do with her now? If he kicked her out of his hayloft, it might call attention to his presence. Better to wait until the coast was clear.

“I believe I owe you an explanation, Mr.…”

“Garrett.” He bit the word out.

“Well, Mr. Garrett…”

“Just call me Garrett,” he interjected. He didn’t stand on formality. And even though he’d carried the Lord name for more than twenty-five years, lately it had only served to remind him that he’d had another last name once. A name he still didn’t know.

“All right, Garrett. You may call me Mimi.”

He wasn’t planning on calling her anything, except a cab. Which made him wonder how she got way out here. He hadn’t seen any strange cars around the place. Though his ranch was located only a few miles outside Austin, it was tucked deep in the hill country, accessible only by a winding backroad. Had she been en route to her wedding at some quaint country church and lost her way?

She certainly looked lost. Not only was she over-dressed for the barn, but her manicured fingernails and those dainty shoes on her feet told him she was completely out of her element. He studied her face, noting the creamy smooth complexion, which obviously hadn’t seen any days working in the sun and wind. Her cheekbones were high, her nose finely shaped and tipped just slightly at the end. Her eyebrows and lashes were slightly darker than her hair, like burnished gold.

She licked her lips. “I know the last thing you expected to find up here was a bride sitting on your haystack.”

He swallowed a groan. It was worse than he thought. Bad enough he’d found a bride in his barn. She was a city girl, to boot. “You’re sitting on straw, not hay.”

A golden brow lifted. “Really? What’s the difference?”

“Wheat straw is yellow and used for livestock bedding. Hay is cut from grasses, like brome, and is fed to the stock. It’s green, and your pretty white dress would be, too, if you were sitting on hay.”

“I’m learning all kinds of fascinating things today,” she said, her tone telling him she wasn’t exactly thrilled about it.

Well, he wasn’t thrilled, either. Not only was he stuck in the barn for who knew how long, he was stuck here with a city girl. A worried city girl, judging by the way her perfect teeth kept nipping that lush lower lip. Shadows clouded her blue eyes as she looked at him.

A vague uneasiness tightened his gut. Maybe this wasn’t a prank. Maybe she wasn’t lost. Maybe this woman was in trouble.

“If you’d just let me explain,” Mimi began, winding her fingers together.

“That really isn’t necessary.” Garrett moved to the window. Despite his natural curiosity, he didn’t want to know any details about her. Didn’t want this woman to intrude on his life more than she already had. Those shadows in her eyes bothered him. If he found out how they got there, he might feel obliged to help her. And he had enough problems of his own to deal with right now.

It was better if they remained strangers. Better for him, anyway. Sometimes he wondered if that’s why Jake Maitland had spent all those years working as a secret operative for the government. Moving from place to place had kept him from making ties and establishing relationships. Even his own family had rarely known how to find him. Maybe he’d liked it that way.

Because sometimes it hurt to care too much.

The creak of the barn door startled them both. Garrett whirled, locking eyes with Mimi. Her wary blue eyes widened at the sound of footsteps below them.

“Hide,” Garrett ordered in a husky whisper, diving behind a tall stack of straw. Mimi rolled off her perch to join him there, tangling them both in a billowing cloud of white taffeta.

They both batted down her wayward skirts, then froze as a feminine voice called from below. “Anybody here?”

One of the horses whinnied in reply.

“Garrett?” Her shout startled the barn swallows perched high in the rafters, and they fluttered around their nests.

Garrett saw Mimi open her mouth, and he immediately clamped his hand over it. Her lips were soft and warm against his palm. He felt a touch of moisture, like dew, on his skin, when she tried to speak. He shook his head, his body tightening at the thought of her small pink tongue touching him, tasting him.

She looked at him with those blue eyes, then finally nodded slowly in understanding. He removed his hand, suddenly aware of how close Mimi was to him. He could feel the silky wisps of her blond hair tickling his cheek and the soft fullness of one breast pressed against his upper arm. She was so warm and so very, very soft. One of her legs had tangled with his during their fall, her creamy skin rubbing against the rough fabric of his jeans. He didn’t dare move, even as a hot, tingling sensation shot through his veins to other parts of his body.

He looked into her eyes and found her still staring at him, their faces only a hairbreadth apart. He hadn’t been this close to a woman in months—and his body was reminding him of that fact. His heart pounded, and his breathing hitched.

“Garrett?” The voice below called again, closer now. “Are you up there?”

His muscles tensed as his attention was drawn away from Mimi. He held his breath, letting it out slowly when he finally heard the sound of receding footsteps. The barn door creaked once again.

Venna was gone.

He immediately put a healthy distance between himself and the bride. That’s when he noticed her hands were shaking.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

She swallowed hard and shook her head. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

Without thinking, Garrett reached out and clasped her small hands in his. Her fingers were as cold as ice. “You’re not fine.”

He hauled her off the floor and began roughly brushing strands of golden straw from her wedding dress. The roar of an engine drew his gaze to the window. He watched with relief as the pickup peeled out of his driveway toward the country road. Then he turned to Mimi. “It’s safe now. We can go to the house and you can call someone to pick you up.”

“That’s not necessary,” she breathed. Her fingers clutched the skirt of her wedding dress so tightly her knuckles matched the pearly white fabric.

“Believe me, it is.” He strode toward the ladder, then waited for her to follow.

She stayed rooted to the spot. “I can’t leave.”

“You can’t stay,” he countered, his tone registering his impatience.

She looked at him and licked her lips. Panic flared in her eyes. “You don’t understand. I…I don’t know where to go. I don’t know what to do.”

He heard the edge of desperation in her voice and moved closer to her. “It’s all right,” he said softly, using the same tone he used to gentle a spooked horse. “Everything will be all right. Come with me to the house. We’ll figure out what to do.”

Her tense shoulders relaxed a fraction. She took a deep breath, then gave him a shaky nod.

Garrett gently grasped her elbow and led her toward the ladder. She gathered her voluminous skirt in her hands, then carefully climbed down the wooden rungs. Her knees buckled when she reached the barn floor, and Garrett watched her grab on to a wooden support beam to steady herself. He jumped down the last few rungs and hurried to her side.

“I’m all right,” she assured him. “I haven’t eaten anything all day and the…excitement must be catching up with me.”

Damn. Bad enough he’d found a citified bride stowed away in his barn. Now she was about to pass out from hunger. How could she leave his ranch if she was unconscious? Without bothering to ask her permission, Garrett bent and scooped her into his arms. He ignored her sharp gasp of protest as he gathered her close to his chest. A little closer than necessary. But he couldn’t resist the urge to inhale her unique scent and feel all that softness against his body one last time.

His horse Brutus emitted a high-pitched whinny as Garrett headed for the barn door, a sputtering bride in his arms. If he didn’t know better, he’d think the big bay gelding was laughing at him.

AS SOON AS Garrett carried Mimi out of the barn, the wild Texas wind snatched at her veil and whipped it across his face. He spit three layers of tulle out of his mouth, then muttered an oath under his breath.

“You can put me down now,” she said, more than a little unnerved by his brute strength. She weighed one hundred and thirty pounds, and the man wasn’t even breathing hard.

“This is my ranch,” he bit out, shifting her slightly in his arms as he strode toward the house. “I’m the one who gives the orders.”

Mimi clenched her jaw and held her tongue. She couldn’t afford to antagonize him. She couldn’t keep staring at him, either. It wasn’t proper for a woman who’d almost married another man less than four hours ago. And Mimi Casville had been raised to be a proper young lady. To behave perfectly in every social situation. She’d always tried to follow the rigid dictates of high-society etiquette.

Until today.

Running out of your own wedding was not considered polite behavior in Austin society. Or anywhere else, for that matter. A well-bred, proper young lady did not abandon her groom at the altar. Or leave four hundred guests crowded together in the overly warm sanctuary.

But Mimi had done exactly that. And now she was in the arms of a cowboy. A very handsome cowboy who was partly to blame for the weakness in her knees and the erratic beat of her heart. She blinked at him, unable to look away. His face was tanned and rugged, testimony to long days working under the hot Texas sun. The shadow of stubble on his square jaw matched the russet hair almost hidden beneath his black felt cowboy hat.

Her cheeks blazed when his green-gold eyes caught her staring at him. She blinked and quickly looked away. But not before his gaze touched something in her soul. The way he looked at her… If her fiancé had ever looked at her that way, just once, she might be a married woman right now.

Mimi closed her eyes, pushing thoughts of her duplicitous fiancé out of her mind. She couldn’t think about him. Not now. Instead, she leaned her head against Garrett’s broad chest and focused her attention on the ranch house.

It was a rustic, two-story stone-fronted structure, fifty years old or so, but well-maintained. Black shutters accented every window, and small wisps of smoke curled out of the stone chimney. An inviting wraparound porch held a porch swing and a small doghouse. Wood creaked as Garrett climbed the steps that led to his front door.

Like most girls, Mimi had always dreamed of her wedding day. In her mind’s eye, she’d seen a magnificent cathedral full of friends and family. A reverent candelight service. A handsome, adoring groom.

She sighed. So far, it hadn’t turned out at all like she’d planned. She’d certainly never imagined being carried over the threshold by a cantankerous cowboy. Although the stranger holding her in his arms had a solidness about him that she’d rarely experienced before. A gentle strength that inexplicably made her want to nestle closer to him.

At least until he marched through the front door and dumped her on the beige leather sofa in his living room. Then he turned on his heel and left without a word.

Mimi lay there stunned for a moment, listening to the clomp of his cowboy boots in the next room. Then she struggled to sit up. It was difficult to do anything in her five-thousand-dollar wedding dress. One hundred and ten silk-covered buttons ran down the back of the dress from her neck to her tailbone. Steel ribbing cinched her middle like an old-fashioned corset. It made her waist look impossibly tiny and her breasts impossibly big. It also made it very hard to breathe. Little wonder she’d almost passed out.

When she finally managed to pull herself upright, she took a long look around the room. A sturdy oak coffee table separated the sofa from two oversize leather armchairs. A handwoven rug with rich hues of blue, green and burgundy stretched across the polished hardwood floor. Another rug lay in front of the stone hearth, where a small fire glowed. A rustic Christmas wreath made of fragrant pine boughs still hung over the mantel.

She leaned back against the sofa, listening to the crackle and snap of the fire and watching the shadows of the flames dance on the wall.

Mimi’s instincts told her Garrett was definitely a bachelor. There were no fussy feminine touches in the room, although she found she liked the Spartan simplicity surrounding her. It was an improvement over the ostentatious Colonial-style mansion she’d grown up in.

Tears pricked her eyes. She might never see that home again. Never see her father, who was no doubt bullying his way through Austin right now searching for her. Her throat grew so tight it was almost painful. She couldn’t let him find her. Not until she had time to straighten out the mess she’d made of her life.

The day seemed like a blur. Or rather like a nightmare. One you couldn’t escape by waking up. It was all too real. The betrayal and the lies. The careful scheming and the furtive whispers. All designed to make Mimi believe an illusion. Only now her eyes were wide open.

She’d never been this alone before. No, that wasn’t true. Once. Just once she’d been even more frightened, more desperate. It was a time she didn’t like to think about. A time that made her heart ache. Ten years ago. She closed her eyes and swallowed her tears. Now wasn’t the time to reminisce about lost hopes and broken dreams. She had to stay strong. Had to figure a way out of this mess.

After taking several deep breaths, Mimi opened her eyes, more composed. She couldn’t worry about the past or the future. Right now the present demanded all her energy.

Garrett entered the room carrying a tray with two steaming wooden bowls on it and a crusty loaf of bread. He set it on the coffee table, then handed her one of the bowls. “Eat every drop.”

Mimi sat up and reached for the spoon, assuming this to be another one of his orders. She was much too hungry to think about disobeying it. The savory aroma of the stew made her mouth water. She spooned up a hearty bite, blew gently on it, then put it in her mouth, closing her eyes in appreciation as the delicious flavors mingled on her tongue.

“This is wonderful,” she said, spooning up another bite. It seemed so peaceful somehow, eating stew with a perfect stranger. Away from all the pressures that had built around her for the past few weeks.

“Anything tastes good when you’re half-starved.” He sliced a thick slab of bread from the loaf and handed it to her.

So Garrett didn’t take orders or compliments well, Mimi thought as she watched him cut a slice of bread for himself. He didn’t take kindly to finding stray brides in his barn, either, judging by his earlier reaction.

He looked up and caught her staring at him again. “Eat.”

Her cheeks warmed, and she immediately dropped her gaze to her bowl. She sensed that Garrett, like his adorable dog, was all bark and no bite. The little black schnauzer had growled ferociously at her when she’d first stepped foot on the ranch. Of course, the pup had ruined his guard-dog act by licking her ankles and rolling over on his back for a belly rub.

Not that his master could be so easily pacified. An unbidden image of Garrett licking her ankles flashed in her mind, and Mimi choked on her stew. Heat washed up her face as Garrett looked at her.

“Are you all right?”

“Fine,” she replied, hoping he’d blame the steaming stew for the fiery flush on her cheeks.

To make matters worse, he pushed away his empty bowl, then leaned back in his chair and slowly rubbed one hand over his taut stomach. Maybe he enjoyed belly rubs as much as his dog.

She tried to swallow the giggle bubbling up her throat, but it erupted in a very unladylike snort. He scowled at her, and Mimi didn’t know what to do. Laugh? Cry? Both seemed equally tempting at the moment.

But now was not the time to become hysterical. She could save her tears for later. It wasn’t proper for a dinner guest to weep over her food. So instead she took a deep, calming breath and endeavored to make polite dinner conversation.

“This bread is delicious.” Mimi had never baked bread in her life, but she knew after the first succulent bite that it was homemade. Still warm from the oven, the bread was crusty on the outside and tender on the inside.

“Venna made it.”

“Venna?” Mimi wiped her buttery fingers on her paper napkin. “Is she your cook?”

“Nope.”

She waited for him to elaborate, but he turned his gaze to the fireplace. His silence only made her more curious. Mimi wasn’t naturally nosy, but for some reason, this man intrigued her more than most. Maybe because he didn’t know anything about her or her illustrious family. He wasn’t trying to impress her or charm her or do anything to draw himself closer to the Casville fortune.

He might even like her if he got to know her. Like her for herself, instead of what her family’s money and power might do for him.

She spooned up more stew. “Then she must be your fairy godmother.”

That got his attention. He turned his gaze from the fire to her. “What?”

“This mysterious Venna. I thought she might be some kind of fairy godmother who magically makes fresh-baked bread appear on your table every evening.”

He scowled. “There’s nothing mysterious about her. Venna Schwab was the woman in the barn.”

“The woman you were hiding from?”

“I wasn’t hiding,” he said, not quite meeting her gaze. “I just don’t happen to like unexpected company.”

She chose to ignore the innuendo. “Why? I’d think a person would get pretty lonely way out here—with nothing but cows and coyotes to keep you company.”

“That’s the way I like it,” he countered. “Although a ranch is no place for a city girl like you.”

She blanched. “How did you know?”

“I can spot a city girl a mile away. Not many women out here waste money on a fancy manicure.” He motioned to her polished pink fingernails. “Or wear silly shoes like the ones you’ve got on.”

She lifted her feet a few inches off the floor. “These silly shoes happen to be imported from Italy. They’re designer originals!”

“Well, they’re not worth two bits out here. Between the dirt and the gravel and the scrub brush they’ll be ruined in no time.”

She shrugged and placed her feet on the floor. “I didn’t have time to change. I left in rather a hurry.”

She expected him to ask her why, but instead he swept the bread crumbs off the coffee table into his empty bowl. Then he looked at her. “Finish your stew.”

“Aren’t you the least bit curious about me?” she asked, ignoring his latest order.

“No.” He settled back in the armchair and folded his arms across his chest. “I’ve learned the hard way that curiosity can be a dangerous thing. Now, do you need a ride back into Austin, or did you drive out here?”

“I drove.” She licked the last few bread crumbs off her fingers. “At least, until I ran out of gas. Then I walked.”

He arched a brow. “Walked? In those shoes?”

“Of course not. I took them off and carried them.”

He leaned forward. “You mean you walked barefoot on these gravel roads? Exactly how far did you go?”

She shrugged. “Five or six miles. I lost count.”

He rose and moved toward her. Then he knelt in front of the sofa and picked up her foot. She winced as he carefully removed her right shoe.

“Damn,” he breathed. Beneath the shredded sheer stocking, raw blisters and tiny cuts covered the sole of her foot. Without another word, he carefully pulled the stocking away from her skin, then ripped it apart with his powerful hands. It split all the way to her knee.

Mimi looked down to see that her pink pedicured toenails were torn, dirty and bleeding. Her head spun, and she reached out to grab his broad shoulder. She hated acting weak in front of him, but at the moment she was too busy trying not to pass out to care.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his callused hands cradling her foot.

“Nothing. It’s silly.”

“Tell me.”

As Mimi struggled to remain conscious, she thought about all the money her father had wasted on doctors and even a hypnotist to help her overcome this ridiculous reaction to the sight of blood. Especially her own. But nothing had helped. In fact, her father’s insistence that she conquer this weakness had only seemed to make it worse.

At last, she took a deep breath and focused her attention on his face instead of her foot. “The sight of blood makes me a little woozy. In fact, I have to wax my legs instead of shaving them because I’ll pass out if I nick myself with a razor.”

Heat flooded her face when she realized how inappropriate it was to tell him that intimate little detail. Especially now that his thumb was absently stroking the sleek, bare skin of her ankle.

She swallowed hard at his sensuous touch, wanting it both to stop and to go on forever. “I…you…I mean, this really isn’t necessary.”

“Don’t look,” he ordered as he turned his attention to her left foot.

She squeezed her eyes shut, but she couldn’t stop the small gasp that left her lips when he tugged off her other shoe.

“Does that hurt?”

“Not really,” she breathed, warily opening her eyes.

“Liar,” he said softly. Then he stood, turned and tossed her shoes in the fireplace.

She watched in mute horror as her five-hundred-dollar shoes went up in flames. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m doing you a favor.”

“But…those are the only shoes I have with me.”

“My sister Shelby keeps a pair of boots here that she only wears when she comes out to ride.” His gaze flicked over her. “Might not be a perfect fit, but you two look about the same size.”

“That’s not the point. You had no right to dispose of my property. How would you like it if I—” she motioned wildly toward the large picture window “—burned down your barn!”

He arched a brow. “Is that what you were planning to do in there?”

“Of course not. If you want to know the truth, I was hiding out. I figured a hayloft was the last place my fiancé would look, especially since he has horrible hay fever.” She swallowed, realizing the time had come to tell him everything. Well, maybe not everything. She did have some pride.

“I was supposed to be married today. But I…” Mimi’s voice quavered, and she paused a moment to gain control. “I just couldn’t go through with it. So I left him at the altar, hopped into my car and drove until it wouldn’t go any farther.”

The memory rekindled her anger, making her voice stronger. “It didn’t matter to me where or how far, I just had to get away. As far away as possible.”

A muscle ticked in Garrett’s jaw, but he didn’t say anything.

“I walked until I couldn’t take another step,” she continued, her fingers flexing on the wrinkled skirt of her gown. “That’s when I saw your ranch. There wasn’t anyone around but the dog, and he seemed friendly enough. I thought I could rest for a while in your hayloft. Maybe even stay the night.”

Garrett just stared at her.

“I know that was presumptuous. And I apologize for trespassing on your property.” She nibbled her lower lip. “But I really didn’t know what else to do. I certainly couldn’t walk right into your house, unlocked or not.”

She swallowed again, her throat dry. “I’d only been up in your hayloft for about thirty minutes when you arrived.”

The way Garrett was looking at her made her increasingly uneasy. Raw emotion smoldered in his eyes.

“Well,” she said after a long, uncomfortable silence, “don’t you have anything to say?”

“Yes.” His voice sounded low and tight. “Get the hell off my ranch.”