Run For the Hills

by Carla Caruso

  Tapping her foot to the tune, Bridie imagined being spun around the dancefloor in a less ostentatious dress by an even more handsome groom. Someone who looked nothing like Rory and a helluva lot like Cody. On a night like tonight, a girl could permit herself a teeny fantasy—

  Bridie’s breath caught in her throat. For a moment there, it almost looked like Nicola had, unwittingly, bumped the back of her voluminous gown against the cake table. Gasps erupted all around. Oh no. No. Bridie hadn’t been seeing things.

  The lavish dessert, on its stand, wobbled once, twice, then before anyone had a chance to move, toppled over the edge. It was like watching a Ferrari careen off a hill in slow-motion. The cake smashed on its side on the chequered dancefloor.

  Nicola’s gaze swept around the crowd, her smile freezing as she clocked each guest’s horrified expression. Nope, those weren’t good gasps. Seth was sweating like a sauna user, obviously unsure how to break the bad news to his bride. No doubt he’d perfect the art over the years. The DJ had the grace to stop the music. Nicola finally darted a look behind her. Time stilled. Then she let rip.

  ‘My cake! My exquisite, perfect, amazing, fucking cake!’

  ‘Y-your dress …’ Seth tried to explain.

  Nicola looked from the back of her gown to the ruined cake, then unleashing an Adele-like wail, lifted up her hefty skirt and legged it from the dance floor. Howling all the way. Hour-long seconds later, a wide-eyed Seth shuffled after her.

  Bridie shook her head, her mouth hanging open like a Venus flytrap. To think they’d almost, almost made it to the finish line without the bride snapping. Around her, the crowd descended into excited chatter. Probably quite a few thought Nicola had, appropriately, got her just desserts and were only there through force, like the misfortune of being related. The DJ turned the music back on, at a more discreet level, and Jaxon, bless his Armani socks, appeared with a mop and bucket.

  ‘Well, that took the cake,’ a deep voice sounded in Bridie’s ear. It was Cody, surprisingly without a Bobbsey Twin welded to his non-camera-wielding arm.

  She couldn’t help stupidly grinning at the sight of his handsome features. ‘Very funny.’

  ‘Think we should go and see if she’s okay?’

  ‘Probably.’ Bridie paused to watch waiters circling with pre-cut cake slices, like Cakegate had never happened. ‘Oh! I forgot only the bottom tier was real and the rest was foam—just for looks. That there was another slab of actual cake waiting in the fridge. Which means Nicola’s mostly just missing out on the cake-cutting pic.’

  Cody slowly nodded. ‘I took a shot of the cake earlier, thankfully. And I reckon Vance could do a good job of Photoshop-ing it into a posed pic of the couple.’

  ‘That ought to placate her,’ Bridie enthused.

  Cody half-smiled. ‘Should we go find the bride?’

  ‘We should …’ Bridie readjusted her glasses. ‘Unless the Bobbsey Twins will miss you.’

  The adolescent remark had rolled off her tongue before she had a chance to get herself under control.

  Cody frowned. ‘The Bobbsey Twins?’ Then he laughed, and as usual, she relished its throaty sound. ‘Oh, I get it. Take a look over there, though. I might have talked up Jaxon a bit since. Don’t think they noticed him behind his video camera before. Now they’ve worked out they’ve got an identical set, like themselves, to play with, I can get some peace.’

  Bridie turned to see where he was gesturing. One of the blondes was currently taking a bite from a chunk of cake in Jaxon’s grip. He must have rescued it, untarnished, from the dancefloor. It seemed over-made-up, unnatural blondes—her old look—weren’t Cody’s thing, after all. If only she had some sort of claim on him.

  To hide her pleasure, Bridie hitched up the hem of her white halter dress and gave him a challenge. ‘Beat you to the lake.’ Then she took off in the direction that Nicola had fled in.

  Unfortunately, she was disadvantaged by heels and could hear Cody’s breaths close to her ear before long, even though he’d had to park his camera somewhere first. Good thing Rory hadn’t been as quick at chasing her down. The air left her lungs as Cody’s strong arms encircled her near the moon-lit lake, sweeping her off her feet. Literally and otherwise.

  ‘Up for a swim?’ he joked, his voice sounding huskier in the dark of the night. If only they’d been playing kiss-chasey. Nicola and Seth were nowhere to be seen.

  Bridie playfully whacked him on his rock-hard chest, well aware they were teetering on the brink of something dangerous. ‘You wouldn’t dare.’

  ‘No, not in that dress.’ Cody’s aqua gaze pierced hers, all too close. Only her faux glasses provided a barrier. ‘You could get married tonight, wearing white.’

  ‘Not according to Nicola,’ Bridie attempted more humour. ‘Yellow reigns supreme.’

  Comedy was her last line of defence against those kissable lips, tantalising centimetres from hers.

  A womanly scream pierced the air, shattering the moment. At just the right time. Though, probably Cody had just been having fun with her like she was his kid sister anyway.

  He gently set her back down on the grass. ‘Sounds like we’ve found our bride.’

  Bridie turned towards the guesthouse where the racket had come from. She’d forgotten Nicola still had the spare key. ‘Yep. Guess it’s now or never.’

  They picked through the dewy grass, hearing crashing as they got closer. Furniture? Bridie thanked her lucky stars she’d locked most of her stuff in the bedroom. They stopped at the front door, suddenly hearing a strange, rhythmic thudding against the wall. Realisation dawned. Bridie glanced at Cody, her eyes wide.

  His all-too-sexy mouth twitched. ‘Um, sounds like they’ve patched things up.’ Holy fuck, they were consummating their marriage. Maybe that was what kept Seth hanging around; all the drama led to bedroom fireworks. Cody coughed into his hand. ‘Shall we leave them to it?’

  Bridie could only nod, words escaping her. Both shaking with silent laughter, they ran back to the reception, the wedding hubbub and music soon enveloping them again.

  * * *

  ‘Am I interrupting something?’ Cody teased Bridie as he stood on the guesthouse’s doorstep later that night. ‘A satanic ritual maybe?’

  She was still in that damn sexy white dress, which showed off her peachy shoulders and lithe hips, and was holding a smoking, tied-up bundle of dried herbs. His nose wrinkled. It smelled sweet like sage.

  Bridie twisted her rosebud lips. ‘Sounds strange but I was trying some energy-clearing in here. This is a smudge stick. My friend, Megz, recommends them. Thought it might get rid of any weird vibes after … well, you know.’

  ‘The new Mr and Mrs Bergen paid it a visit?’ he supplied.

  ‘Yes.’ Bridie shook her head. ‘You’re just lucky you didn’t catch me earlier on, clapping in the corners and mumbling positive intentions.’

  Cody laughed. ‘Well, you can put the herbs away, because there’s no way you’re sleeping here. The cleaners need to go through the place first. You can have my bed. I’ve already changed the sheets and everything.’

  ‘Oh, no.’ Bridie blushed. ‘I can’t kick you out of your own bed. I’m not a wedding guest. And besides, my room was shut when there were—’ she looked like she was about to gag for a second, ‘—visitors.’

  Whether he believed in bad juju or not, he couldn’t leave her there that night. Not with the memory of Nicola, and all her dramatics, still tainting the air. ‘You’re not kicking me out, I am,’ he said firmly.

  Bridie waved her smouldering smudge stick. ‘So where will you sleep? I know the manor’s overflowing again with guests staying on for the post-wedding brunch tomorrow.’

  ‘I’ll find a bit of floor somewhere.’

  ‘And risk being attacked by the Bobbsey Twins in the middle of the night? Nah, I can just sleep on the floor in your room, that’d be easier. Like when you slept on the couch in here. Hey, we’re “work family” now.’

  It was an underlin
ing of their professional relationship, in case he’d forgotten.

  ‘No, I’ll take the floor,’ he said, even though he knew sharing a room was dangerous. For him. The more he got to know Bridie—the warmth she showed when talking about her close circle, her girlish innocence, her sunny smile—the deeper the hole he dug for himself. Still, he needed some shuteye to face Nicola and co. again tomorrow. ‘Meet me upstairs when you’re ready.’

  As he turned to go, she called out to him, hesitation colouring her voice. ‘Can I ask you one last favour?’

  Cody turned back. ‘Sure. Shoot.’

  Bridie nibbled on her lower lip. ‘It’s kind of embarrassing, but would you mind unzipping the back of my dress, just halfway? I had to get one of the catering staff to do it this morning. The bloody thing requires contortionist skills, I tell you.’

  Anything but that, his mind hollered. But saying this would mean he’d have to explain why. So instead he said a brusque ‘no problems’. He’d just have to attack the task like he would re-locating a Huntsman spider outdoors. Cautiously, methodically …

  Bridie rested her smudge stick in a nearby bowl. Then she spun around, pushing her caramel mane up with both hands, her elbows pointing out. A line of dark freckles curved like a question mark on the back of her neck. If the question was: ‘was he doing the right thing or playing with fire?’, then he already knew the answer. But it was too late. He edged forwards, breathing in her cherry pie scent and admiring the silky-softness of her skin up-close. With a flick of his wrist, he had the dress’s zipper at half-mast. The bloody thing was like a stairway to heaven. He couldn’t risk going a millimetre further.

  ‘You’re done,’ he growled. ‘I’ll see you back at the house.’

  ‘Thanks,’ came her quiet reply.

  As he walked away, he had to remind himself he had a city halfway across the world to get back to and a career that didn’t favour commitment. He prayed this resolve would last the night.

  Chapter 9

  ‘That looks really uncomfortable.’ Bridie peered down at Cody from his king-size bed in the lamplight. His bedding, in comparison, was a flimsy camping mattress. ‘And cold. The floor’s hardwood.’

  ‘I’m fine.’ Cody hooked his arms behind his head, a plaid wool blanket half-covering his tee-clad chest. She couldn’t say she minded the view. ‘You were going to do it originally. Besides, sleeping on the floor is meant to be good for your back.’

  ‘It is.’ Bridie twisted her mouth. ‘But the thing is, down there, you’ll miss out on the wedding cake I brought up. Cake always tastes better in bed. So long as you’re okay with me eating it here.’

  Hey, the guilt had got the better of her; she felt like the girl from The Princess and the Pea, atop a million mattresses, compared to him. Despite her wayward thoughts regarding Cody, she couldn’t just leave him suffering on the ground.

  Cody’s gaze met hers and Bridie felt a sugar rush without yet putting any cake to her lips. ‘Mum always told me to never take sweets from girls.’

  Ack. Her skin prickled with embarrassment. It wasn’t exactly the first time she’d invited a boss into her bed.

  ‘I just feel bad about you sleeping on the floor,’ she hastened to say. ‘In your own room. We can put a barrier of pillows between us if it’ll make things more comfortable. Just think of it like if a mate crashed at your place after they’d had one too many.’

  Cody exhaled, though his eyes were smiling. ‘If it means I’ll get some peace and quiet to sleep, then fine.’ His back was obviously in support.

  Shoving aside his blanket, he got to his feet. This time he wore grey track pants, reminiscent of Sylvester Stallone in Rocky. Meanwhile, she’d gone with a mauve, long T-shirt nightie, which gave off a ‘girly slumber party’ vibe rather than ‘come-hither’. Despite feeling a little weird about behaving so informally together as employer and employee, the usual rules had gone out the window with them both living on-site and working in a tightknit team.

  Bridie threw back the doona and got busy lining pillows from the floor down the mattress’s centre. There’d been as many pillows on the bed as would befit a hotel room. An interior decorator must have been to blame—as well as for the room’s cream, textured drapes and abundance of dark wood. Bridie imagined Cody’s LA loft looked very different.

  Not that she’d ever be invited to visit.

  Cody climbed into bed, smelling of sandalwood and manliness, and propped himself up against the grey cushioned headboard. Her barricade of pillows now complete, she slid in beside him and reached for the little cardboard cakebox on the nightstand.

  Opening it, she used a plastic fork to halve the slice of red velvet cake, and handed Cody his own fork to dig in with. Despite his earlier words about girls and sweets, he didn’t turn her down. A zap of electricity jolted her fingertip when theirs brushed, but she duly ignored it. It wasn’t the time and it definitely wasn’t the place.

  She rested the cakebox on the nearest pillow, currently providing a physical and mental barrier. ‘Well, here’s to another successful wedding, minus the cake debacle. Nicola was all smiles on her way through the wedding arch.’

  Doing it vertically with her groom had obviously put Nicola in a better frame of mind.

  ‘Glad to hear she was happy in the end.’ Cody dug his fork into some black-and-white fondant. Bridie mirrored the movement on her half, mentally scrambling for more safe bedside conversation topics.

  She swallowed her kilojoule-laden mouthful. ‘So, two weddings down, are you counting down the days until you get back to your old life?’

  Cody shrugged a broad shoulder, making Bridie feel like Goldilocks sharing a bed with a big, protective bear momentarily. ‘More so I’m worried about being out of my old scene too long. LA is a fast town and there’s always fresh blood around, keen to take your place.’ He rubbed his jaw with his free hand, the stubble scraping. ‘When I got involved with Paloma, I went a bit off my game, turning down jobs here and there, so we’d have time together.’

  He pulled a face. ‘And we all know how that turned out. Then what happened with my dad … well, that only extended the “sabbatical”. I really need a killer shot to make a splash and show my boss I’m back.’ Cody speared the cake with his fork again. ‘Apart from that, it’d just be good to get away from all the memories here and lose myself in work again.’

  Bridie’s stomach churned, despite the sinfully good cake she was devouring. ‘That’s understandable.’

  If only he knew the potential subject of an exclusive shot was sitting right next to him.

  She reached to push her temporary glasses up her nose before remembering she wasn’t wearing them. She was naked, exposed again, even considering her hands-off nightie.

  After polishing off her last dessert morsel, she unleashed a yawn. ‘Well, that cake was worth the wait. And now I think I’m finally ready for some shuteye.’

  He flashed his notorious dimples—an image that’d be burned into her brain long after lights out, sadly. ‘Glad I could help put you to sleep.’

  With a weak laugh, Bridie set aside the cakebox and dove for cover under the cream doona. Cody followed soon after, reaching to switch off the maroon, tasselled lamp on his bedside table. The room was plunged into darkness, but it somehow made her even more aware of Cody’s movements and proximity. And now she was expected to sleep …

  * * *

  ‘Stop, stop!’

  Strong hands grabbed Bridie’s as she screamed and lashed out into the night. But rather than Rory’s face looming into view in the sliver of moonlight, Cody’s did.

  Her heart thumped against her ribcage. Where the hell was she? Why was Cody there? Was Rory still lurking somewhere in the shadows?

  ‘You’re okay,’ Cody assured her, his grip on her hands calming her. Where she was and why came tumbling back. ‘You just had a bad dream, I think.’

  ‘Oh … I’m sorry. I-I don’t usually sleep-talk, I promise.’

  He let go of her fingers
and she felt a gust of disappointment. Stupid. She tilted her head to the side to hide her expression, even in the gloom. The alarm clock radio flashed three-oh-seven in chartreuse.

  Cody’s voice drew back her focus. ‘So was it just a nightmare or was your unconscious mind trying to work through something?’

  Bridie involuntarily shivered, the bad dream flooding back. In it, Rory had turned up at Balkissoch and chased her down the main street until he had her backed into a corner. Cody had woken her just as Rory began yelling abuse, hate in his eyes.

  ‘Just a nightmare,’ she lied, trying to stop her teeth chattering. ‘Probably not helped by the thriller paperback I picked up in my lunchbreak.’

  That was true, to a degree at least. Needing a distraction, she kicked out at the doona, her foot inadvertently brushing something solid. Leg-like. Oops.

  ‘Hey, no crossing the line,’ Cody teased. ‘Especially when your feet are like ice.’

  Cold feet. Yup, Rory would have accused her of that, and more.

  ‘Sorry, on both counts. I forgot my dorky bed socks,’ Bridie lamely replied, though mostly it was the dream that had given her the chills. ‘Poor circulation.’

  Cody’s weight shifted on the mattress, the covers moving too, then strong, warm fingers cupped both her feet, draining away the iciness. Bridie’s breath quickened. Was this one of those dreams where she thought she was awake but was actually still dreaming?

  ‘Can’t leave you to suffer after you got me off the cold, hard floor.’ Cody’s words were casual, but there was the tiniest edge to his voice. Or her mind was playing tricks on her again.

  Of course, his touching her feet didn’t have to mean anything, be weird. They were lying in bed together; the usual barriers of a professional relationship had long since been broken down—

  Her heart stopped. His hands had crept up to rub her ankles. Blood rushed to the spot. Gawd. Now his fingers were circling her calves. Just as quickly, the warmth of his touch fell away. Like she’d imagined it.

  ‘Sorry, I … I went too far.’