by Seton, Cora
The paparazzi had kept her entire family pinned down on the horse farm, and while her parents bore it the best they could, things had gotten tense by the end. For the first time in her life, they’d been happy to see her go, and Ella swore she’d never put them through anything like it again. Of course most people speculated that Ella had bolted from the award show because Kaylee had won, but Hank had arranged her escape so smoothly that a strong contingent believed her cover story. At any rate, Marianne felt sure Ella’s career could be salvaged, and she’d become a one woman promotion machine.
Time for Ella to play her part. “I’ve put that all behind me. It was a blessing to discover that Anthony and I were incompatible before we tied the knot.”
Incompatible. That was one way to put it.
“And you’ve moved past the hurt and anger.”
“Yes.” Ella smiled serenely, an expression she had now mastered. She struggled to keep her hands folded in her lap. She wanted a sip of that coffee.
“What would you say to Anthony if you saw him again?”
Ella almost frowned before she caught herself. Myra wasn’t supposed to dwell on this topic. “I would wish him well, of course.”
Myra nodded. “Very civilized. Well, you’ll get that chance right now. We have a surprise guest on Morning with Myra today. Two surprise guests, actually. Anthony Black and Kaylee Lipenhauer, come on out.”
Was she serious? She was. Anthony strode out onto the stage holding Kaylee’s hand. Only long practice kept Ella in her seat. She wanted to rip her microphone off her collar and throw it in Myra’s face. She wanted to storm off the show. But that’s how she got the title Runaway Bride—by storming out of the Academy Awards. She couldn’t do it again.
“Hello, Ella. Good to see you.” Anthony dropped Kaylee’s hand and came in for a hug. Behind him, Kaylee turned to the side and smoothed her hand over the very tight knit top she wore to emphasize the slight swell of her pregnant belly. Ella closed her eyes, angry all over again that Anthony had allowed Kaylee the baby he’d refused to consider with her.
Hug him back, hug him back, the voice of reason in her head chanted. They were on air, after all.
But Ella couldn’t. She just couldn’t.
As he bent down, she grabbed the ceramic mug from the end table, dumped out the coffee, surged to her feet and clocked him upside the head.
As the audience screamed and Kaylee dropped to her knees beside Anthony’s prone form, Ella knew her ex-fiancé wasn’t the only one down for the count. Her comeback was over before it even started. Her career was trashed for good.
The only thing left to do was run again.
Outside, she found Hank leaning against the limo, chatting with another driver. Hank took one look at her face and leaped to open the door for her.
“To the airport?” he guessed.
“As fast as you can!”
Chapter 2
‡
Austin let himself into to his room, ready to put another day behind him. Tomorrow he’d ship out for Montana and his time with the military would end, except for reserve duty. He couldn’t wait to see Crescent Hall again. He found Sergeant Jack Briggs reading on his bunk. Austin nodded at him and prepared for bed, but evidently Briggs wanted to talk tonight. He put down his paperback and braced his hands on his knees.
“Look, I’ve held off saying this because I knew you didn’t want to hear it, but you’re leaving tomorrow and I think it’s time we had this conversation.”
Austin’s stomach sank. Not another go to counseling lecture. He’d tried that. It didn’t work.
“I know your story. I looked into it after living with you a couple of weeks.” Briggs held up a hand. “No—don’t feel the need to explain. I get it, which is why I want to have this little chat with you. My Uncle Ed lost a friend in a similar situation back when he was serving in the first Gulf War twenty years ago. He blamed himself. Came home thoroughly fucked up. None of us judged him—I was just a kid at the time, but I heard the grownups talking about it. They all wanted to help him through it until he found himself again. He had a wife—my Aunt Irene—and two daughters. But after he’d been home a while, those women changed. All three of them tip-toed around him. No lie—tip-toed.” Briggs caught his eye to make sure Austin was paying attention. “The years went by, those girls grew up, got out of the house, but Aunt Irene never did. I watched her fade away. We all did. Twenty years later my uncle still blames himself, still shuts himself off from any shred of happiness. He barely leaves his room. He told me once he feels that if he smiles or laughs or loves or feels any kind of pleasure it’s just another kick in the balls to his buddy who died, but you know what?”
Austin didn’t respond. Briggs had no idea what he was going through.
“I’ll tell you what.” Briggs had worked up a head of steam. “Uncle Ed’s friend isn’t any more alive now than he was when my uncle came home. He isn’t any more alive, but everyone around Ed—his girls, his wife, the rest of his family, me—we’re all a little more dead because of him. None of us smile as much, none of us laugh as much, none of us love as much—because we’ve caught his disease. We’ve caught his guilt. Don’t do that to your people, Austin. You did what you could. Your buddy died. It sucks. It really does. But you were in a warzone and none of us joined the service thinking it would be a walk in the park. You saved Chase Edgars—that makes you a hero in everyone else’s eyes but yours. Give yourself a break. Go home and love someone—your family, your friends, a girl—that’s how you bring more life back into the world. Not by clinging to your guilt.”
“Is that all?” Austin reached to turn off the light.
Briggs sighed. “Yeah, that’s all.” He climbed into bed.
Austin hit the switch and the room plunged into darkness.
“You know what, Hall?”
It was Austin’s turn to sigh. “What?”
“Donovan would kick your ass for acting this way.”
Austin rolled over and tried to go to sleep. But no matter what Briggs said, he couldn’t let the past go.
It wouldn’t let him.
* * *
When Ella reached LAX this time, she took the first flight available. Now it was nearly midnight and she sat in a Starbucks in Boulder, Colorado, wearing a baseball cap pulled low over her face, yoga pants, running shoes and a light jacket. She’d scrubbed all the makeup from her face and so far no one had noticed her—not even the ticket agent when she purchased the flight here.
“Call me when you get somewhere,” Hank had said back at LAX, walking her as far as he was allowed to go in the airport. They’d agreed it was best that he find employment elsewhere now that there would be no comeback, a move which broke Ella’s heart. She would wire him six months’ severance pay as soon as she was able to communicate with her accountant. Hank said he’d take his wife on a long-overdue vacation and then find a replacement gig.
“I will.”
“Chin up, Ella. Never let the bastards see you sweat.”
“Chin up,” she’d agreed and said good-bye.
Too bad she didn’t know where to go now. She wished Hank was here with her, taking charge like he did when logistics overwhelmed her on a busy day in Los Angeles, but she’d put the West Coast behind her. She couldn’t go to her parents’ place—not after the last time. Too bad she didn’t have any siblings. She could use some right about now.
She was sure that the Hollywood star-watcher blogs and gossip columns were already having a field day with her latest prime-time fiasco. What if Anthony decided to press charges? Would she go to jail? Thank god the paparazzi hadn’t tracked her yet, but she knew it was just a matter of time. If she booked herself into a hotel, the counter person would see her name on her credit card. Maybe she should rent a car and keep on driving.
Or better yet, walk.
Her head ached and more than anything she wanted to curl up and go to sleep, but first she needed to make a plan. She needed to do something unexpected. But
what? Where could she go? Where would she be safe from all the prying eyes?
If only she’d never even gone to Hollywood. If only she’d never met Marianne. She’d been perfectly comfortable with her high school dreams of owning horses and becoming an equine therapist—just like the star of her favorite television show. She shook her head at the memory, but it conjured up a wistfulness that surprised her. She missed country life. She missed horses. Maybe she would have been happier owning a ranch.
She certainly wasn’t happy as an actress.
Swallowing against the ache in her throat, Ella checked her phone for the first time. Sure enough, her inbox was crammed with texts from Marianne.
She jabbed at one at random, only realizing as she did so that Marianne wouldn’t be sympathetic. She’d worked her ass off to give Ella this second chance. As she went to click it off again, she saw the time stamp. Marianne had sent this text well before Morning with Myra started, so it was probably a pep talk to get her ready for the show.
Good luck, Babycakes! If you’re nervous, maybe this will give you a laugh.
Ella blinked against the sudden sting of tears. This was Marianne to a T; always sending her jokes or links or videos that made her laugh out loud. This was why she put up with her friend’s bossiness and ambition. Marianne made life so much fun.
Thinking she needed a laugh more now than she ever had, Ella clicked the link. It led to a dating site profile starring one of the handsomest men she’d ever seen. He wasn’t an actor like Anthony—he was wearing a military uniform, with short, buzz-cut hair, a hard jaw and piercing eyes. His name was Austin Hall and he was apparently looking for a wife. A fake wife. Reading his post, she saw immediately why Marianne thought it was funny. Austin Hall was no romantic. He spelled out his needs bluntly—a woman to play his wife for one year. He made it just as clear what he could offer in return—his name, a home and an income. Why would a man that handsome want a fake spouse? And who would respond to such an ad? Who would enter a pretend, loveless marriage and move to the back of beyond in Montana for an entire year?
Ella blinked.
Someone like her.
She stifled a laugh. That was crazy. She couldn’t run off with a man she didn’t know. But she found herself reading the ad again instead of navigating away.
This Austin Hall had a ranch.
A ranch meant horses, fresh air, country living. All the things she craved so badly—all the things she’d denied herself while pursuing her acting career. The past few months at her family’s home had reminded her how much she loved horses. A ranch would have lots of horses, and a ranch would make a great hiding place, too. Besides, no one knew her in Montana—well, not unless they were a fan.
Had Marianne unknowingly given her the perfect answer to the question of where to go next?
Ella thought it over carefully. She was aware of the danger involved in meeting a stranger who placed an online ad, but she knew the drill—she’d make sure their first encounter would be in a public place. She could suss him out and decide whether to go through with it or not. She had plenty of resources, too, should things go south. Money. Connections.
Hank.
She chewed her lip thoughtfully. Could she marry this soldier, take his name, move onto his ranch and disappear into rural Montana, never to be seen again—at least for the next twelve months? It was crazy—but was it crazy enough to work?
She might as well get in touch with the man, she decided. Check into the situation. It was the last thing anyone would expect her to do—even the people closest to her. If anything, they’d expect her to fly to Europe and hide out in an exclusive spa.
A ranch in Montana? Married to a cowboy?
No one would look for her there.
Chapter 3
‡
Dressed again and alone in the recreation hall an hour later, too tired to boot up a video game, too tense to try to sleep again, Austin reflexively checked his e-mail and sighed when he saw a spate of replies to his Wife Wanted ad. Their subject lines weren’t kind. One read, “Go home, loser.” Another read, “No fakers needed.” Another said, “Would love to get to…” and when he clicked on the email, finished, “…kick your butt across town for such a stupid ad.”
Who knew his attempt to make a match based on mutual need rather than mutual lust would arouse such anger in the female population? Apparently women didn’t mess around when it came to love and marriage. He figured he’d better pull his profile from the dating site and try some other method. But what? He ticked the messages off one by one and deleted them, then grimaced when a new one popped up. For fuck’s sake, it was like playing whack-a-mole.
He moved his thumb to delete this one, too, but the tagline stopped him. Let’s Make a Deal. Huh. That was different—more in line with what he’d expected. Intrigued despite himself, bracing for another vitriolic message, he opened it up to find a short note.
I’ve done nothing illegal, but I’ve taken every wrong turn it’s possible to take. I want a quiet, safe haven for the next twelve months. I don’t want love or lies. I don’t need your money or your support. All I need is a place to start over. I love country living, the outdoors and horses. Once I arrive at your ranch and take your name, I don’t intend to leave it until the year is up. In exchange, I ask that you keep my identity a secret. If I can remain anonymous, I’ll marry you and then set you free.
Ella
Attached to the email was a low-quality photograph of a woman in her late twenties or early thirties, which he guessed she’d snapped with her phone. She had clear blue eyes, silvery blonde hair, looked tall and almost model thin, but had a figure most models would think was too voluptuous. Her clothes were nothing special—the type of thing women put on to go to the gym. She wore a baseball cap, and it looked like her hair had been pulled through the back of it to cascade down to her shoulder in a messy ponytail. She wore no makeup, but that didn’t stop her from being one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. She looked vaguely familiar—but he couldn’t place her. They certainly hadn’t met before.
Why would a woman like this pursue a fake Wife Wanted ad she’d found online—especially one like his? Why wasn’t this woman already married?
She was running from something. Every instinct told him it was true.
He read her note again. She’d done nothing illegal, just made some bad choices. Well, lots of people shared that story. He wouldn’t hold it against her. She said she didn’t need his money, either. That was something. A place to start over? He could give her that. As for never leaving the ranch and keeping her last name a secret? He wasn’t entirely sure that would work. She’d have to meet Heloise, for one thing—although he could arrange for his aunt to come to the ranch. People in town would talk if his wife didn’t show herself, however. Could they come up with a cover story to explain her desire for privacy?
Maybe.
He’d sure be willing to leave her alone.
Although…
Something stirred within him as he looked at her photo again. It wasn’t a seismic shift. It didn’t herald a return of his spirit from the empty place it had inhabited for so long. It was nothing to take note about. Just a… hum of curiosity. It wasn’t just her beauty that caught his attention; it was the haunted look in her eyes, the yearning he saw there for… something.
He wouldn’t mind being that something.
Austin caught himself. Shook his head at his own stupidity. She wasn’t yearning for him, and even if she was, he didn’t care. He didn’t mean to get tangled up in a relationship. This was strictly a business deal.
Still, his gaze returned to the photograph.
Who was this woman? Would she really marry him?
Might as well find out.
His note back was terse.
We’ll be married next Monday morning as soon as you arrive in Chance Creek, and get to work fixing up my ranch Monday afternoon. I’ve just left the Army and am returning home for the first time in twelve ye
ars. I’ll arrive in Montana on Thursday to attend my brother’s wedding. By the time you get there, I’ll be alone on the ranch.
This is small town living, Ella. It’s a hard life but an honest one, and I’m an honest man. I’ll do my best to protect your identity, but we’ll have to come up with a cover story that works. Ask your questions now. When your feet touch Montana soil, I’ll expect you to live up to your promises.
There. That oughta scare her off.
* * *
Ella stared at the note in her inbox, her brows climbing so high they’d probably disappeared right off her forehead. This soldier—this cowboy—didn’t mince words, did he? But his answer stopped the tears that had been threatening again. She couldn’t afford to cry until she was alone—so alone that not a single camera could find her. That meant no crying in the airport. Not in a bathroom stall or anywhere else. People were always watching and everyone carried a camera these days. No one—no one—was going to profit off of her pain if she had anything to say about it.
She read the soldier’s note again. Get married next Monday? To someone she’d never met?
Make a life with him on a Montana ranch for the next year?
She sure had questions. One in particular. She called up Austin’s photograph again and studied the features of his handsome face. Clicked resolutely back to answer him.
What about sex?
* * *
Austin rubbed a hand over his jaw and swore, his eyes never leaving the line on his screen.