Runaway Groom

by Fiona Lowe

  She didn’t need luck, damn it; she needed a job. She’d given wholly and utterly into self-pity when Ben had found her. He’d come up with this hike to haul her out of her blue funk and it wasn’t his fault she’d let herself get so unfit. How could she have convinced herself that those thirty minutes on a treadmill once or twice a week were comparable to hiking up an escarpment?

  As penance for her physical laziness, she now had to walk behind him. The delectable sight of his tight ass in faded jeans hovered slightly above her on the trail, tantalizing her with the way it moved. The way he moved. Meanwhile, she was so out of shape she could barely see, let alone enjoy the view.

  Her foot hit a loose rock and with a crunch, gravel and soil slid away off the side of the trail. She flung her hand out, grabbing at a pine tree to steady herself.

  Ben turned around. “You okay?”

  “No.”

  Concern crossed his face. “Are you hurt?”

  “I can’t breathe and my calves are going to explode.”

  “Oh, is that all?” he said, devoid of any sympathy. “I thought you’d twisted an ankle. Come on, we can’t be far from the top. That last sign we passed said a quarter of a mile.”

  She pressed her palms to her thighs, dragging in gulps of air. “I’m dying here, Ben.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  A hint of exasperation had crept into his voice, which up until now had been positively upbeat and cheerful. Infuriatingly cheerful. “Believe me, Amy, you’re going to feel so much better once you see the view.”

  “How do you know this?” she said, feeling fractious and exhausted all at once. “You’ve never even seen the damn view.”

  His rich laughter, which reminded her of decadent chocolate fondue, rolled over her as he took off again. His large feet bounced easily off the rocks as if this hike was a Sunday stroll through the park. How did he have such good balance when one of his arms was strapped to his side?

  He’s in shape. You’re not. Get over yourself. She scrambled after him, annoyed with him, annoyed with herself and feeling demoralizingly inadequate as she often did outside of work.

  Muttering curses at Jonathon, the hike trail, Ben and herself, she stumbled and staggered up what she hoped was the last incline. Suddenly, she was at the top being greeted by Ben’s wide smile. A smile that raced through his stubble and lit up his eyes.

  She instantly felt light-headed and not just because of the hike.

  He flung out his good arm. “Look at that view and tell me it wasn’t worth it.”

  He looked amazing. Tan, relaxed and happy. Everything she wasn’t. “I’m blind from oxygen deprivation,” she said snarkily, sinking slowly down onto the pink rocks. Her heart slammed so hard against her ribs, she thought it might well fly out of her chest and over the cliff.

  He sat down next to her and handed her a bottle of water. “Here, drink this.” As she put her hand around it, he moved his and spun the top off with a crack.

  It wasn’t the first time she’d noticed his manners. She chugged the water down against her parched throat, loving the coolness, and it took her a moment before she realized he was probably sharing it with her. She wiped the top of the bottle on her T-shirt and passed it back. “Thanks.”

  He smiled. “No worries.”

  He took a slug and she sneaked a peek at the way his throat worked—his Adam’s apple moving up and down seductively. She ripped her gaze away and looked at the view. The lake shimmered blue below them, framed by the fall colors of the trees on one side and on the other by the impressive rocks stacked on top of each other at crazy angles. “Oh, wow,” she breathed out as she took it all in.

  “I told you,” he said, taking a photo with a camera before handing her a small baggie of soft candy.

  She looked between him and the bag. “I thought you didn’t approve of sugary things.”

  “Not as a mainstay of your diet, but you’re hiking and you’ve burned up energy so you need some glucose or you’ll find it hard going on the way down. I don’t want you falling, especially when I can’t carry you.”

  The snarky teenager with the self-esteem issues took control. “Is that code for Amy, you’re fat and unfit?”

  He frowned, his expression startled. “It’s not code for anything but given how hard you found the climb, you know you could be fitter.”

  She sighed. “I so want to argue that with you but the evidence is all too obvious.”

  “Do you want to be in better shape?”

  “I want this hike to have been easier so, yes, I suppose I do.”

  He nodded, understanding in his eyes. “So use this unexpected time at the lake to get fitter. I’m happy to be your walking buddy. I love hiking and running.”

  “Running, ugh.” She dropped her head between her knees just thinking about it.

  He laughed. “What sort of exercise do you enjoy?”

  Not much at all. She thought of what she liked doing best. “Reading. Lying in bed.”

  He made an odd sound and she raised her head, meeting his gaze, which had darkened to moss. A throb of pleasure pulsed deep inside her.

  He broke the eye contact and stared off in the distance, his jaw tight and tension clinging to every part of him. She’d swear that he’d felt the zing of attraction that had just arced between them as powerfully as she had, but then again, given her track record, she could be imagining the entire thing.

  She’d thought there’d been attraction between her and Jonathon when in reality there’d only been scheming and sabotage. And she’d known Jonathon—at least she thought she had. All she knew about Ben was that he was Australian, an engineer with an obsession with vintage motorcycles and he was on a road trip. For all of his generally easygoing personality, he hadn’t given away much information about himself at all. Not in words anyway. She remembered his tension last night when she’d said, “We all have secrets.”

  “Ben, why did you decide to take this trip?”

  As he turned back to her, she saw the shutters on his eyes close down tight. “For views like this,” he said, standing up and stretching out his good arm. “Come on. We need to be down before the sun sets.”

  She looked up at all stunning six feet of him, knowing he’d just deflected her question with expert ease. “Slave driver.”

  “Couch potato.”

  “Boring fitness junkie.”

  He grinned. “I’m taking that one as a compliment.”

  “You have the weirdest sense of humor. I bet your healthy-living fetish drove the last woman you lived with far, far away.”

  “Actually, Lexie was far fitter than I was.”

  He pulled her abruptly to her feet, dropped her hand and started off down the trail line.

  Lexie? She followed, her mind buzzing with even more questions.

  Chapter Ten

  Amy excitedly opened the front door to her guests. Janey Holzworth, the pregnant bride, and Melissa had driven out to meet with her to discuss the making of Janey’s wedding gown. “Hi. Come in.”

  Janey stepped into the lake house with a smile. “On our way here, we passed a guy with his arm in a sling who looked like he’d come out of your gate.”

  “That’s Ben. He’s staying here while his arm heals,” Amy said succinctly, trying not to blush by busying herself with taking the women’s coats and hanging them in the hall closet. That was the truth. Ben couldn’t get upset about that. The fact Janey had noticed Ben probably wasn’t unusual. Amy was pretty certain that women around the world noticed him wherever he went.

  “Well, Ben’s one cute-looking guy,” Janey said.

  “Janey Holzworth,” Melissa teased, “you’re pregnant and about to be married. The only cute guy you should be noticing is Rick.”

  The bride laughed. “And I lov
e Rick to bits but there’s nothing wrong with window-shopping. My mom’s an expert at that and she and Dad have been married for twenty-five years.”

  While Amy settled them onto one of the couches in the great room, poured coffees and handed around home-style cookies, she wondered how she was going to tactfully bring up her concerns about Janey’s wedding gown.

  As the bride and Melissa chatted about the wedding plans, Amy’s gaze slid to the toile—the mock-up garment Annette had made to test the pattern of the gown and determine the perfect fit. It had been stitched in jersey to mimic the flow of the divine and expensive delustered satin that the real gown would be made from. Based on her own experience, the mirror hid nothing and she decided she’d let it show her doubts rather than speaking them and upsetting Janey. The young woman was only going to expand between now and the wedding and her dress, of choice, was definitely designed for a model-thin woman.

  “Janey, can you please try on the toile so I can check everything’s good to go?”

  “Sure thing. Where can I change?” Janey asked, rising to her feet.

  “There’s a powder room through that door, first on the left.”

  “Great. I’ll be back soon.” Janey scooped up the dress and left the room.

  Melissa sipped her coffee. “I love this house. It’s a shame the Rasmussens aren’t here. They throw the best parties and you’d have so much fun.”

  Amy laughed. “If they were here, I wouldn’t be.”

  “I take it all back, then,” Melissa said, sitting forward. “I really need you for this wedding and I can’t thank you enough for giving up your precious vacation.”

  She felt uncomfortable that Melissa thought she was being generous with her time and she recalled what Ben had said about the company of strangers. “Actually, Melissa, I’m not technically on vacation. I just lost my job so really, you’re helping me out.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear about your job.” Genuine sympathy wove across her face. “But I’m thrilled you’re here. Us girls need to stick together. We should grab a meal together sometime.”

  “Thank you. I’d like that.”

  Melissa smiled. “I can’t promise too much in the way of nightlife or available men.”

  “That suits me fine. I’m not looking for either of those things.”

  Melissa gave her an assessing glance. “Is that because you and eye-candy-on-a-stick Ben are together?”

  “God, no,” Amy spluttered as her coffee caught in the back of her throat.

  “You make it sound like being with him would be the worst thing in the world. Is there something wrong with him?”

  No, just with me. She cleared her throat and laced her hands, trying to sound composed. “No, not at all but we only met six days ago.”

  Melissa laughed incredulously. “And that’s holding you back? After losing your job, honey, you should be treating yourself.”

  “He’s got an injured shoulder,” Amy said briskly, hating that whenever she found herself talking about sex her nervousness made her sound snappy.

  “Last time I checked, Amy, that wasn’t the body part used during sex,” Melissa teased.

  She felt the heat of her flush start the climb from her neck to her hairline. “Can we get back to talking about Janey’s wedding, please?”

  “I’ve embarrassed you. I’m sorry,” Melissa said, sounding contrite. “It’s just I don’t know many women in your position who wouldn’t want to jump into bed with him.”

  “Amy,” Ben’s distinctive accent sounded from across the great room, “I can’t find my— Oh, sorry,” Ben said, coming to an abrupt halt. “I didn’t realize you had a visitor.”

  Before Amy could say a word, Melissa was up on her feet, looking all trim and perfectly turned out in the latest fall style. With her blond hair swinging and her blue eyes sparkling, she swept an all-encompassing and assessing tip-to-toe look at Ben. “Please, don’t apologize.”

  A bristle of something unfamiliar but with a definite green tinge ran up Amy’s spine. “Ben, this is Melissa Bergeron, who owns the boutique in Whitetail.”

  “G’day.” Ben greeted Melissa with a friendly nod. “Please don’t try and change Amy’s fashion style too much, will you? I reckon she’s on to a winner with her workout wear meets cocktail chic.”

  Melissa glanced between the two of them with a bemused and knowing smile and Amy felt another blush start and quickly race up her face and settle in the roots of her hair. She shot Ben a look she hoped would seriously hurt him. “Forgive Ben. He’s Australian.”

  Instead of looking like he was offended at the zing, he grinned at her—the relaxed, easy smile he always had when he was teasing her. Only this time it seemed to be saying, well done.

  “Australian?” Melissa sounded disappointed as she sat down hard on the couch. “So you’re just here on vacation?”

  “I am, although with my injury, I’m going to be in Whitetail a bit longer than I’d intended.” Ben slid a cookie off the plate.

  Melissa’s gaze was fixed firmly on his chest. “What’s a drop bear?”

  “They’re related to the koala,” Amy said, suddenly realizing it was odd she’d never heard of them given how many wildlife documentaries she’d watched with her dad.

  “Amy’s quite correct,” Ben said as he poured himself a coffee and proceeded to tell Melissa about the dangerous creatures.

  “Melissa! Amy!” Janey’s worried voice suddenly cut across Ben’s as she walked back into the room wearing the toile. The white jersey clung tightly to her like a second skin, exactly as it was designed to do.

  “Someone sounds upset,” Ben said, turning around. “Shit.”

  The next moment Amy felt the burn of coffee on her leg as Ben’s cup hit the floor, bounced and sent the hot liquid flying into the air and snaking along the floorboards. “Ouch.”

  As she reached for a napkin, she expected Ben to at least apologize or help her clean up the mess, but he stood fixed to the spot, staring at Janey like he was seeing a ghost.

  “Ben?” She put her hand on his arm.

  He shrugged off her hand with a jerky movement. “I’ll get a sponge.”

  “No need. I’ve got it with the napkins.”

  But he left the room anyway, only instead of heading for the kitchen, he exited onto the veranda and disappeared outside.

  What the...? But she was too busy righting the mug and stemming the flow of coffee to try to work out what was going on with him.

  Melissa seemed oblivious to Ben’s odd behavior and all her attention was now centered on her distressed client. “I’m sure Amy will be able to fix this,” she said, with a desperate and pleading look in her direction.

  “I hope so,” Janey sobbed, “because that guy took one look at me and left the building. I love that I’m pregnant, I really do, it’s just I always pictured myself as a bride.”

  “Don’t worry about Ben. He’s on painkillers and a bit out of it,” Amy said in an attempt to reassure the bride. Part of her gave thanks Ben was out of the room and couldn’t hear the lie, which was dumb because in this instance the white lie helped. But she couldn’t shake the memory of how upset he’d been when he believed she’d lied to him about the house. “You’re going to be a beautiful bride, Janey. In a stunning gown that will flow over and around you, masking your beautiful, pregnant belly. I’ve done some sketches to explain what I mean.” She showed Janey the Empire line dress with swathes of embroidered organza that fell in waterfall layers.

  Janey sniffed as she studied the drawings. “Do we have enough time for you to make this?”

  She thought about her lack of job interviews, the series of company doors slamming in her face and she stifled a sigh. “My entire focus between now and your wedding is your gown.”

  * * *

  When Melis
sa and Janey finally left, the sun was setting and golden rays poured into the great room, lighting up the earthy tones of the rocks in the fireplace and the enormous wooden beams. Amy, who was packing up, held the Italian silk charmeuse in her hands and gazed out the prow window, watching the play of light on the water. The view tempted her to think life was simple when really, it was anything but.

  The luxurious material trailed through her fingers reminding her of her task. She wondered if Janey could sell it online to recover the cost because no matter which angle she came at it, the clingy nature of the material precluded it from being used in the new gown.

  Ben walked in holding a six-pack with four bottles remaining and his expression stony. “This house has twenty-five rooms, Amy. You need to keep all your sewing crap somewhere else because this room is shared space. I have the right to quiet enjoyment of the property.”

  Before she could respond to his use of legalese, which was part of every tenancy agreement, and tell him that she was not his landlord, he’d sat down, grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. The actions screamed end of discussion.

  It doesn’t work that way, buddy. She wanted to ask him what was going on and why he’d left so abruptly earlier but even with her limited experience with men, she felt sure he wouldn’t give her a real answer. Even so, she wasn’t letting him get away with issuing orders. She walked over and stood between him and the television. “You scared my bride.”

  “I scared her?” he said incredulously. “How the hell could I have done that?”

  “She’s self-conscious about her pregnancy and you staring at her didn’t help.”

  “Tough.” He wedged a longneck between his legs and spun the cap off with his left hand. “If she wants to be a bride she’s going have to get used to people staring. That’s the whole bloody point of a wedding, isn’t it?”

  The latent romantic in her spoke. “I thought it was a public declaration of love.”

  “Oh, yeah, it’s a public declaration of something all right,” he mumbled, before taking a long slug of beer. His gaze met hers, sparking like flint. “Move. I can’t see the TV.”