Run For the Hills

by Carla Caruso

  Bridie frowned. ‘Visitors?’

  ‘I guess so.’

  She unbuckled her seatbelt, still trembling. ‘Maybe I should take my food to the guesthouse if you’ve got company?’

  ‘No, no. Come in. The guesthouse will take too long to heat up.’ He reached for a red umbrella on the backseat. ‘And take this.’

  ‘Okay,’ Bridie said softly.

  He would have liked to bundle her up in his arms and carry her inside, but that really would have been pushing the limits with his brothers around.

  Takeaway bags in hand, they both hightailed it for the front door. Inside, he tried shaking off the raindrops, then followed the sound of chatter to the formal lounge. Bridie reluctantly trailed behind him. The plan was just to duck in and unload his brothers’ share of the food, then find somewhere warm and quiet to eat. Vance and Jaxon could grill him later.

  In the doorway, he stared back at three unfamiliar faces, alongside his triplets, on the couches: a middle-aged couple and a young red-haired girl. Three suitcases were also lined up by the fireplace.

  Cody cleared his throat. ‘Hi. Didn’t realise we were having visitors.’ He held up the plastic bags. ‘Good thing I brought enough to feed an army.’

  ‘Actually,’ Vance spoke up, ‘they’re here for Bridie. From the city. We’ve told them to stay the night rather than find a hotel. Is Bridie coming in?’

  She stepped out of the shadows behind Cody, another rumble of thunder echoing through the air. ‘I’m here,’ she said quietly, then turned her dark gaze his way. ‘Cody, meet my aunt and uncle, and old friend Megz.’

  * * *

  It was agony for Bridie to sit at the dining table, attempting small talk and actual chewing, while unable to ask her guests the real reason for their visit. To be fair, they seemed on edge too. Aunt Raelene kept toying with her cardigan buttons in between mouthfuls and Jim habitually smoothed the few hairs on top of his head. Even Megz would stare at her bowl whenever Bridie looked her way.

  Was it just a coincidence they’d turned up on her doorstep the same day someone had exposed her hiding spot to a picture agency—the one Cody worked for? Like with Rory, had she put her faith in the wrong people entirely, or had they just been careless with the information she’d given them? Either way, she never should have given her aunt an address to post that necklace.

  Uncle Jim patted his stomach at long last, after saying yes to seconds and thirds of the noodles and stir-fry. How he was so rangy, Bridie had no idea. Good thing Cody had bought extra with leftovers in mind for the next day.

  ‘Think I’ve finally reached my limit,’ her uncle remarked.

  ‘Me too,’ Megz chimed in. ‘Don’t think I could do much more tonight after that amazing feed.’

  With a smile, Jaxon turned to Bridie. ‘I didn’t get a chance to show Raelene and Jim to a guestroom upstairs so they can unpack and stuff. Do you want to do the honours? Guessing Megz will stay in the guesthouse with you?’

  ‘Yes … to everything,’ Bridie said breathlessly, still not knowing whether she had a reason to be angry with her visitors yet or not.

  Aunt Raelene put down her napkin. ‘I’ll wash the dishes first.’

  ‘No need,’ Cody jumped in. ‘That’s what the dishwasher’s for. You’ve had a long drive in bad weather. How about we help you with your suitcases? While you get settled, we can put the kettle on.’

  ‘A hot cup of tea would be lovely,’ Aunt Raelene admitted.

  Finally, once Cody and Jaxon had lugged her aunt and uncle’s suitcases upstairs, with Megz trailing behind, Bridie got her chance alone with the trio. After firmly closing the door behind them and making sure the coast was clear, she rounded on the threesome.

  Her voice came out as chilly as the weather and her hands sought her hips. ‘So, spill, why are you really here? I get the feeling it’s not just because you missed me.’

  Megz slouched on the four poster bed while Uncle Jim shifted his feet by the curtains. Only Aunt Raelene was game to edge nearer to Bridie, her hazel eyes full of remorse.

  ‘We came to warn you about something, dear. In person. And to help you run away again, if need be. We didn’t want you to do it alone this time.’

  ‘What, because you let slip my location and now the paparazzi are on my trail?’ Bridie snapped.

  Uncle Jim despondently shook his head. ‘So the worst-case scenario has happened. And you’re aware. I did tell Raelene not to keep your address and number written down anywhere, like you said.’

  ‘I was very careful,’ her aunt exploded. ‘I hid the bit of paper and I didn’t make it obvious what it was. I thought it’d be okay in my own home.’

  The one saving grace was it was clear her loved ones hadn’t dobbed her in on purpose for their own monetary gain. Bridie was free again to trust them, as well as curse them.

  She unleashed a loaded sigh. ‘So who’s the person who found out where I am? I at least want to know who’s stabbed me in the back.’

  Aunt Raelene fiddled with her apple seed necklace as though searching for the right words. ‘Uh, the thing is y-your mother came to visit yesterday. Unannounced as she tends to. I hadn’t had a chance to tell you. She only stayed the night, then was gone again this morning.’

  Bridie stared at her aunt, heat prickling her body, desperate to know just what her mum’s visit had set in motion.

  Her aunt continued. ‘It was only later that I noticed the Post-it note, where I’d written down your address and number, had gone from the fruit bowl. So stupid of me to hide it in there. Lucky I could still recall where you were staying.

  ‘Your mother had been asking a lot of questions about you and the whole media storm. Not that I’d ever say anything to anyone, even family, without your consent. And I was hoping I’d got things wrong when the note went missing, but I wanted to alert you just in case. Anyway, it seems maybe it was necessary, even if a little late.’

  Bridie’s head shook side-to-side. Stupidly, she’d thought—hoped—that something accidental had happened as a result of her mum’s visit, that maybe someone around her mother had tried to benefit from the information. Not that her own flesh-and-blood would rat her out to the paparazzi. Her mum mightn’t have been strong enough to stick around when she was young, but to cash in on Bridie’s recent heartbreak? That seemed a step too far.

  ‘You can’t blame your aunt,’ Megz said quickly. ‘She couldn’t have predicted what would happen, what your mum would do.’

  Bridie’s throat constricted. ‘Mum must have had a reason. A good reason. Maybe she was in dire straits, desperate for cash.’

  ‘That reason being herself,’ Megz muttered darkly. ‘Your mum’s always been self-serving.’

  ‘Megz,’ Aunt Raelene cautioned her. Then she turned to touch Bridie’s arm, only making her flinch. ‘How do you know the word’s out already?’

  ‘Someone told me,’ Bridie replied vaguely. ‘Someone who works for the picture agency that got the tipoff.’

  ‘Right.’ Her aunt slowly nodded. ‘And do your employers know about any of this? The Belshaws?’

  ‘No!’ Well, one in particular didn’t know they’d inadvertently tipped her off.

  ‘I just thought, being in the photo business, they might have some advice,’ Aunt Raelene said. ‘They seem like good people.’

  Bridie vigorously shook her head. ‘Please don’t say a word to them. This is my problem.’ Thank gawd Cody’s project was top secret and the only person he’d let loose the information to he really shouldn’t have: her.

  Distractedly, she ran a hand through her rain-frizzy hair—well, the frizz was limited to the strands that weren’t extensions at least. ‘Look, can I just sleep on everything and talk to you all in the morning? I need some time, space, to decide my next move. It’s not like anything’s going to happen tonight anyway, and besides, I-I haven’t been feeling the best. Megz, I’ll show you where the guesthouse is first, though.’

  Megz silently got to her feet as Aunt Ra
elene cast Bridie another worried look. ‘Of course, dear. We’re here for you, whenever you need, and … I’m truly sorry to have caused you more heartache.’

  ‘It’s okay. I’ll work things out,’ Bridie said more confidently than she felt.

  Minutes later, she sat in bed with her knees drawn up and the lamp on as the wind whirled outdoors at the same speed as her thoughts. Megz was watching TV in the lounge, though she’d share the bed with Bridie later on. If only Bridie’s mind would switch off, let her rest.

  Absently, she rummaged in her handbag for her apricot-flavoured lip balm, but her hand closed around something else instead: her phone. Shit. She’d forgotten to turn it off, had got slack when she couldn’t afford to be.

  Plucking out the device, she pressed its side button to wake it up, so she could hit ‘power off’. But instead ominous words on-screen caught her eye, making her heart pound. The first were ‘Missed Call’ and underneath was ‘Avoid Avoid Avoid.’

  * * *

  It was two am. Cody had abandoned the idea of sleep in favour of trawling the internet for information on Bridget June. Whatever would help tire him out. He shifted back in bed, his laptop warming his thighs.

  He couldn’t shake the feeling something weird was going on with Bridie, from her near-fainting episode at the pub to that missed phone call and her stiff behaviour around her surprise visitors.

  In the beginning, he hadn’t wanted to pry too much about her past, hadn’t wanted to overstep the line. But now? Now Cody yearned to know more, to dig deeper. Maybe he could even help if he knew what was troubling her. Still, there wasn’t much he could do for her at this hour of the morning when she had guests. So he tried to focus on the task at hand, hovering his cursor over a Google image of Bridget June in a little black dress on the red carpet.

  Photos of the hotelier’s fiancée were harder to come by than expected. He’d found a few of her laughing and smiling with her ex at social events, but she seemed to prefer standing behind him rather than sharing the spotlight.

  Bridget definitely had the socialite look down pat, though, and would no doubt have enjoyed the perks of the lavish lifestyle. In fact, she wouldn’t have appeared out of place on the streets of LA with her bleached bob, perma-tan and startlingly blue eyes. Maybe that was why she even looked vaguely familiar—

  Wait a minute.

  His adrenaline spiking, Cody enlarged the image with a click of his mouse. Breath held, he reached to touch the screen, tracing the faint chickenpox scar above the socialite’s right eyebrow. A tiny circular indent just like Bridie’s, defying the heavy make-up.

  His throat dried up.

  Fuck no. It wasn’t possible, conceivable … beneath the orange tan and goldilocks, Bridget June was Bridie? That was the reason she’d fled to the Hills, why she’d often seemed on edge?

  He sat back against his pillow, his mind racing. Nah, no way. He was just exhausted, jumping to conclusions, letting his imagination run wild. He and his brothers had joked about the famed runaway bride various times, and Bridie hadn’t even batted an eyelid … had she?

  Minimising the photo, he clicked open his picture folder, increasing the size of the one of Bridie with her caught bouquet. Which now seemed ironic. Firing up Photoshop next, he dragged the bouquet shot alongside the red carpet one from Google.

  Bridget … Bridie.

  Bridie … Bridget.

  Fuck, he’d been a fool. A total dickhead. Hoodwinked by love. Yup, love. Again. Sideswiped even harder this time. How had he not picked it before with the similar names and face shapes? It seemed more obvious now than a ballerina in a mosh-pit. Maybe his heart hadn’t wanted him to see it, distorting his vision like one of those optical illusion paintings.

  Cody tipped back his head, blowing out a breath. All this time paparazzi target Bridget June had been sitting in his path like a bullseye. Lying through her pearly-whites. Dodging her marital bed for his temporary one. He thought about the way she’d reacted around cameras, crowds, the hire car her guests had arrived in when they were meant to only be from Adelaide, not interstate.

  Shoving his laptop aside, he kicked off the covers and strode for the window. Throwing up the blind, he pushed open the glass, letting the night air gust in and cool his on-fire skin.

  How much of the Bridie he’d seen was real? Like Paloma, had she just been stringing him along while it suited her, saying one thing while meaning another, before she took off in another direction entirely?

  Sure, she’d never promised him anything beyond the month, beyond ‘fun’, but it was too late regardless. Love had made him a fool again.

  Chapter 13

  It was surreal to see Rory in the flesh again after spying him everywhere else—in the paper, in magazines, on the internet. As though Bridie had never actually been with him on the road to marriage. Like he’d always been ‘behind glass’ to her.

  In her mind, he’d become a monster. A media-manufactured monster, spinning things his own way. She’d forgotten about his puppy-dog eyes, his heart-melting smile, how expensively handsome he always looked. The good times.

  She said a tentative hi as she slid into a seat opposite him in a private study room at Balkissoch Public Library. And he curtly nodded in return—unlike in her nightmares, there were no raised fists or flashing eyes.

  The meetup spot, offering neutral ground and privacy, had been her idea after she’d texted back and forth with him following his missed call Sunday night. Discovering he was already in town shouldn’t have come as a shock; he had connections in high places, ears on the ground everywhere. Someone who knew someone at the picture agency had obviously tipped him off too. She’d snuck out early that Monday morning to meet him before she had to face anyone else. The grey laminate table between them felt like an island.

  ‘You look … different,’ he said, at last, flipping back his dark blond hair with one hand, as was a trademark move. ‘Nice disguise.’

  She let her handbag slip onto the grey carpet. ‘Actually I look more like my old self, really.’

  Before big-city life in Melbourne, hotel marketing, everything.

  Rory fiddled with his Tom Ford aviators on the table—clearly his version of being incognito. ‘I think it suits you.’

  Funny that.

  ‘So …’ Bridie began, twisting her mood ring on her finger. It was currently amber, highlighting her nervousness.

  ‘So …’ Rory echoed.

  Bridie spread her hands out on the table. One of them had to bite the bullet. ‘Okay, look, I just wanted to apologise in person for running out on you at the wedding. And for … continuing to run. Even considering how angry I was, I should have handled things better. I could have taken you aside, talked to you. Things shouldn’t have gone this far.’

  Hurt glimmered in Rory’s eyes, making him look boyish for a second. In truth, she hadn’t really thought about how the situation had affected him beyond his stage-managed comments to the media, guilty party or not.

  Dolefully, he shook his head. ‘I still don’t understand why you did what you did.’

  Wow. Looked like he was going to play the innocent victim until the very end. Maybe, by doing so, he thought he could plant a seed of doubt in her mind.

  ‘Fine, let me show you.’

  She fumbled around in her bag for her phone. Grabbing hold of it, she flicked through its screens, finally finding what she was looking for—her stomach, on cue, turning over at the sight of the incriminating image.

  She held out the device, and Rory took it from her, gazing down at the screen. ‘Oh.’

  Indeed. There’d be no worming his way off the hook this time. That gut-wrenching picture had been burned into her retinas. Of him in bed with two other women. The ladies—a blonde and a brunette—had their naked backs to the camera, but Rory was clearly visible in the centre of his king-size bed. Right down to the anchor tattoo on his left pec. Gawd how she’d loathed those gold satin sheets of his.

  Rory glanced up again, his mou
th set in a hard line. ‘Who sent you this?’

  Bridie shrugged. ‘It was sent via an anonymous email to my phone. Just as I was about to get out of the limo at the wedding. You can see now why I panicked.’

  Rory was quiet for a moment, his bronzed brow furrowed. ‘This didn’t happen when we were together.’

  ‘Sorry?’ Her skin prickled with shock. It wasn’t what she’d expected him to say. Not at all. ‘Then w-why would the sender forward it to me? On my wedding day?’

  Rory performed another perfect hair-flip. ‘Who knows? Maybe they had some kind of vendetta against me, wanted to stir up controversy. The business world is full of sharks hungry for blood.’ His well-moisturised hand reached to close over hers, rousing up a feeling of claustrophobia within her. ‘I’ve already told you I was a party boy before I met you. That’s why I was thankful when you came into my life. You calmed me down, became my rock in a crazy, fast world.’

  Poor little rich boy, Bridie couldn’t help thinking. Couldn’t control yourself around your family’s wealth and the excesses it could afford.

  Resolve washing over her, she tugged free of his grip, ignoring his wounded expression. Even if he was telling the truth about the threesome, it’d be hard to trust him in the future. Every time she detected lipstick on his cheek, she’d be jumping to conclusions. She couldn’t live like that.

  Plus, going forwards, she wanted to toughen up, be less naïve. If Rory had the sexual appetite for more than one woman at a time in the past, who’s to say he wouldn’t get bored once they were married? There’d be plenty of shameless gold-diggers waiting in line to ‘fill the void’. Aside from that, life in the small town had changed her, or more so, it’d made her realise she couldn’t pretend to be someone she wasn’t anymore.

  ‘The thing is,’ she began slowly, ‘regardless of that photo, I think perhaps we did rush into marriage. We were looking for things from each other that were lacking in our own lives. You had the kind of strong family unit and material security I could only ever dream about. And maybe I brought some “normality”, emotional security, to your world. But none of those things are reasons to marry one another. Those desires can’t be confused with love.’