The Cowboy's Runaway Bride

by Nancy Robards Thompson

  Chelsea knew Juliette meant well. But she wished she could tell her friend this wasn’t making her feel any better. Similar arguments had been bandied about beyond the tabloids and in the conventional news media. All it managed to accomplish was to draw more attention to the fact that pictures and videos were at the fingertips of anyone who cared to call them up on the internet and watch the peep show. She’d come to Celebration to get away from this. Not to dwell on it.

  “Yet, I’m sure Hadden is getting high fives and slaps on the back for being such a big man. Can’t they find out the original IP address of the person who leaked it? I mean, your brother is a member of parliament. He knows the queen, for God’s sake. Can’t he get the Secret Intelligence Service on it? You do have an attorney at least, don’t you?”

  Chelsea buried her face in her hands for a moment before answering.

  “Thomas helped me retain an attorney and he has an old school chum who is working on getting the video removed from the internet. My brother is doing what he can, but he’s walking a fine line. The problem is, the video is like a virus. It’s removed from one site and it pops up on three more.”

  “Oh, honey, I’m sorry.”

  Her father was more concerned that Hadden’s vendetta might derail Thomas’s shot at being prime minister should his party come to power than he was that his daughter’s privacy and dignity had been violated. As far as her parents were concerned, this entire ordeal was her fault. If she’d been more rooted, more focused on something constructive rather than floating about trying to find herself, Hadden would’ve never had the opportunity; this disgrace would’ve never happened.

  “The point of the scandal was to get back at me by bringing down Thomas and making him look bad during this time when every eye in the UK is on him. I just—” Chelsea felt tears brimming again, and she covered her face with her hands. “I can’t, Jules. I just can’t do this right now.”

  Juliette set down her tea, got to her feet in a flash and put her arms around Chelsea. “I’m so sorry. That was insensitive of me. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. This is not your fault. Your privacy was violated in the worst way possible. I can’t stand the fact that that smug asshat Hadden Hastings is walking around with his head held high while people and the press are treating you like it’s the puritanical seventeenth century and you should have a big red A pinned to the front of you.”

  Maybe it was because her emotions were running high, maybe it was because she was so tired of feeling so small and dirty, but something about the far-fetched Scarlet Letter reference struck her as funny.

  “If you’re likening me to Hester Prynne, I’m not married, and thank God I didn’t get pregnant with Hadden’s child.” But saying the facts out loud didn’t sound as humorous as they’d sounded in her head. “Look, I appreciate you taking my side, but can we please change the subject to something more interesting?”

  As Juliette nodded, she still looked as if she was spoiling for a fight with Hadden.

  “I’ve been dying to know whether or not your neighbor Ethan Campbell is related to your old boyfriend, Jude Campbell. He is. Am I right?”

  Juliette grimaced and Chelsea was surprised when her eyes darkened even more. “Yes. They’re brothers. But I haven’t seen Jude since I moved back to Celebration after college. He’s been away living large on the Professional Bull Riding circuit. As far as I’m concerned, he can stay away.”

  “You’re still nursing the Jude wound?”

  Juliette chewed her bottom lip instead of answering.

  “Well, Ethan seems pretty attentive,” Chelsea said.

  “Yeah, he’s a great guy. He and his brother are as different as night and day.”

  “So, are you interested in Ethan? I mean, come on, Ethan is pretty darn hot, even if he is a little uptight. You could do a lot worse.”

  “Ethan is like a big brother. He’s just a good guy who looks out for me.”

  “Looks out for you, huh? I think he has his eye on you.”

  Juliette flinched. “Ethan? No. Not a chance.” Her mouth flattened into a distasteful straight line and she shook her head. She might have made the same face if Chelsea had asked her to eat the soggy loose leaves from the dregs at the bottom of the teapot. “He is not my type. There’s definitely nothing happening in that arena.”

  And there it was, the companion to the strange satisfaction she’d felt earlier when she’d looked for Ethan’s picture among Juliette’s home gallery and didn’t find it.

  “I mean his brother Jude and I were pretty serious for a long time.”

  “Do you ever hear from him?”

  “Nope, and I’d rather not talk about him.” Her smile seemed a bit forced and her nod a little too resolute.

  “All right, but you know I’m here if you ever do want to talk.” Juliette nodded and Chelsea knew it was time to change the subject. “Thank you for letting me stay with you, Jules. I won’t impose too long. If it gets to be too much having me under foot, I can find a place to stay in town.”

  Juliette put her hands on her hips. “You can stay with me as long as you like. I’m so happy you’re here.”

  Chelsea grimaced. “You might not want to give me an open-ended invitation. Because I just might take you up on it.”

  “Maybe you should.”

  Sweet, generous Juliette. The thought about houseguests and fish came to mind, and even though she didn’t want to argue it right now, she knew she should find alternate lodging as soon as she got her bearings.

  “It’s such a lovely day,” Juliette said. “Let’s take our tea outside to the patio. I think we could both use some fresh air.”

  Chelsea followed her outside. The backyard looked transformed in the light of day. Her gaze skittered to the bathroom window she’d used to gain entrance last night and she found herself reliving the start she’d felt when she saw Ethan Campbell’s muscled frame blocking the doorway. The chair she’d used to boost herself up was still turned over on its side, exactly where it had fallen the night before.

  Chelsea walked over and picked it up, returning it to the patio table where she’d found it.

  “Part of the crime scene from last night,” she said sheepishly.

  “I see,” Juliette said. “I’m so sorry the key wasn’t under the mat like I said it would be. We’ve had some break-ins around here. I’d taken it inside and I was in such a rush to get to this job, it completely slipped my mind to put it outside again like I promised.”

  The two of them settled themselves at the table and each reclaimed her mug of tea.

  “It’s not a problem.” Chelsea smiled. “If there has been crime in the area, you shouldn’t leave the key outside. Not even for one night. And you probably shouldn’t leave the bathroom window open, for that matter.”

  They sipped in companionable silence for a few moments.

  “So, is your gorgeous neighbor married?” Chelsea heard herself asking before she could think better of it.

  “Why? Are you interested?”

  “Absolutely not,” she snapped. “I’m just curious.”

  Okay, well, under a different set of circumstances she might be. She tended to have a thing for tall, dark-haired guys with blue eyes and mile-wide shoulders. But now was not the time to indulge such fancies. “I’m here to disappear, not to land myself in deeper trouble. The even more pressing matter is to find myself a place to stay.”

  Though maybe a temporary fling with a handsome cowboy would be a good way to keep her mind off her troubles. She’d just have to be careful. Make sure it was on her terms.

  “You’re staying here,” Juliette said. “End of discussion, okay?”

  “You’re too good to me,” Chelsea said.

  “It’s the least I can do. How many times over the years did I stay with your family?”

 
Chelsea snorted. “Trust me. Your presence never inconvenienced them because they were never at home.”

  Chelsea’s gaze scanned the backyard, which she realized was actually a beautiful, well-tended English garden in full bloom. Juliette always had loved her flowers. Especially English gardens.

  “At least when you stayed with me at Longbridge Hall you never caused a commotion like I did last night,” Chelsea said. “And you must’ve gotten up at the crack of dawn to make it back so early. See, I’m already being that guest.”

  “I was on the road by six, but you gave me an excuse to get out of there.”

  “Better you than me.” Chelsea chuckled and raised her mug to her friend. “This is my first cup of tea.”

  Juliette laughed. “You’ve never been a morning person, have you?”

  Chelsea gave a you’re-right, one-shoulder shrug and sipped her tea.

  “Look, I know my place isn’t fancy, but—”

  Chelsea held up a hand and stopped her. “Don’t be ridiculous. Your home is lovely. I’d choose it any day over Longbridge Hall. But really, Jules, you don’t need a long-term houseguest skulking about when you get home from a job.”

  “I’m not going to argue about this. You could never be a mere houseguest.” Juliette reached out and put a hand on Chelsea’s arm. “You’re the sister I’ve always wanted.”

  “A sister who’s toting a lot of baggage these days.” Chelsea’s cheeks warmed and she dropped her gaze to her teacup. Would this humiliation ever fade? This was Jules, after all.

  The timing couldn’t have been worse given Thomas’s prime minister candidacy, but maybe this was the boot to the seat she’d needed to start getting her act together.

  Chelsea heard the sound of a car door shutting and a dog barking.

  “That sounds like Franklin,” Juliette said, pushing away from the table and standing. “Ethan must’ve brought him home.”

  “Ethan?” Dear God in heaven, did all roads in this town lead to Ethan Campbell? She ignored the thought that hoped so.

  “Yes, he watches my dog when I go out of town.”

  “He seems to be a neighborly kind of guy, doesn’t he?” Chelsea said, mostly to herself.

  As they rounded the house, they saw Ethan standing on the front porch, knocking on the door.

  “Hey, neighbor,” Juliette said, casting a sidelong glance at Chelsea as she bent to love on her little dog. “We were just talking about you.”

  “You were?”

  But Juliette was too busy cooing words of adoration and praise to her wiggling four-legged love to answer Ethan, whose gaze had locked with Chelsea’s. He nodded his greeting and she felt her cheeks warm.

  “Hello,” she said, careful to keep her accent in check.

  “Yes, I was just telling Chelsea that you’re so good to look out for Franklin and me while I’m away. You didn’t have to bring him home. I was coming over later, anyway.”

  “You were?” Ethan asked.

  “Yes.” She gave Franklin a hand signal and he followed her onto the porch. “This afternoon I’m looking at the barn with Lucy. Didn’t she tell you?”

  Who was Lucy? Ahh, his girlfriend, probably.

  Made sense. Guys like Ethan Campbell usually had a girlfriend—or a wife.

  A voice inside her reminded her that she knew nothing about Ethan Campbell beyond his being the eyes and ears of the neighborhood watch team. And the fact that he was tall and muscled and good-looking as sin. But good-looking guys were the root of all the trouble she was in now.

  Good-looking guys...guys who were tall and had broad shoulders were her Achilles’ heel. She needed to stop being so shallow, stop allowing herself to be wooed by the promise of washboard abs. Because judging by the way his body went from broad shoulders to a strong, broad chest and veed perfectly into slim cowboy hips, she’d just bet there was a six-pack hiding out under that chambray work shirt.

  She really should strive to be a better person and look beyond the physical...beyond the deliciousness of blue eyes and curly brown hair and focus on more important attributes—like the way Ethan’s biceps had bunched and muscled as he held open the screen door and gestured for Chelsea to enter first.

  All that and good manners, too.

  “No, Lucy did not tell me you were coming over to look at the barn,” he said, that familiar irritation he’d displayed last night coating his words today. “I hear she’s starting up with that nonsense again. Juliette, don’t encourage her.”

  He closed the screen door behind him, keeping his hand on it so that it didn’t slam. Score another point for the cowboy with manners.

  “Ethan Campbell, why wouldn’t you want your sister to do something that made her happy?”

  Sister?

  Lucy was his sister?

  Well, then. Score one—a big one—for Chelsea.

  She bent down to stroke Franklin’s velvety-soft ears and to hide her grin. “Nice, Franklin,” she cooed. “It’s good to meet you.”

  She focused on the dog’s little corgi smile and the eraser-pink tongue that lolled to one side of his mouth, giving him an affable look. She’d always thought the corgi breed, with their happy personalities and short, stubby little legs, were the court jesters of all dogs. They made people happy just by being in the same room. That was why she was smiling, not because Lucy was Ethan’s sister.

  “I do want my sister to be happy,” he said.

  She wasn’t smiling at the way his biceps were flexing again as he braced his hand against the doorjamb or at the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he looked concerned.

  “You know her track record when it comes to seeing things through to the end. She has a tendency to abandon projects when she loses interest. She doesn’t need to waste any more money. She’s still paying off debt from that fabric business she left school to start.”

  Juliette sighed. “I get that this is a big endeavor. It’s huge. But now that my business is booming, I’m in a position to send a lot of my business her way.”

  Ethan must’ve noticed Chelsea’s puzzled expression. “My sister wants to turn an old barn on the outer edge of our property into a party barn.”

  He gave his head a quick shake like it was the dumbest idea he’d ever heard.

  “Not a party barn,” Juliette corrected. “It’s an events venue. There’s nothing like it for miles around here. It’s a completely untapped market and a great idea that she needs to take advantage of before someone else does. Barn weddings are all the rage right now.”

  Franklin walked over to his mistress, sat down and leaned against her leg as if showing his support.

  “I seriously doubt many people would want to get married in a barn, out here in the middle of nowhere. The place is falling down. It’s more of a shanty than a barn.”

  “That’s why we need to renovate it,” Juliette said.

  “What’s that going to cost?” Ethan crossed his arms in front of him. There were those biceps again, beckoning her from under his long-sleeve shirt.

  Hello there, lovelies.

  “Chelsea is a designer,” Juliette said. “She might be able to give us an idea of the scope involved, and she and I can help Lucy bid out the work.”

  Chelsea blinked. “Oh. What?”

  “The work on the barn. You have to see it, Chels. It has so much potential.”

  “I’m not licensed,” she said. “Not here.”

  “Well, you have a design degree. You wouldn’t be doing the work. Just rendering an opinion. Helping Ethan see the place’s potential.”

  Ethan was frowning at her as if she couldn’t convince him that the crown jewels had worth, but Juliette was nodding and looking so hopeful.

  “Chelsea doesn’t want to get involved.” Ethan was talking to Juliette, but he was
still looking at Chelsea.

  “I don’t mind giving it a look-see and offering my opinion.” Chelsea raised her chin, a defense under his scrutiny. “That’s not exactly getting involved, is it now?”

  “So y’all are going to gang up on me.” Ethan laughed—a humorless sound—and shook his head. “I’ll definitely be there for the walk-through, then. Because I’m not about to turn you all loose at Lucy’s whim.” He pinned his gaze on Chelsea. “Especially if you’re going to be there. I knew you were trouble the minute I laid eyes on you.”

  She might have found his words offensive if not for the mischievous sparkle in his eyes that was more of a sexy challenge than an accusation. It made her breath catch before it sent her stomach into a rushing spiral.

  Trouble? Oh, Cowboy, you have no idea.

  Chapter Four

  “Basically, you’re working with a blank canvas,” Chelsea said. Ethan watched her turn around and survey the interior of the old weathered barn. “Anything is possible.”

  Anything? If they asked him, he’d say it would be easier to burn the damn thing down and start from scratch.

  With its dirt floor and wood rot that let daylight in through the cracks—blank canvas wasn’t how he would’ve described the place, but they hadn’t asked him. Chelsea was the expert.

  The woman was full of surprises and apparently full of hope for this godforsaken place.

  Or maybe she was just trying to be polite and not dash Lucy’s dreams.

  Pretty and polite.

  That was a lethal combination.

  Last night he hadn’t thought polite was one of her attributes. But then again, last night he probably hadn’t made the best first impression, either. He’d been gruff and she’d been feistier than an old barn cat that had been cornered by a skunk.

  Polite hadn’t exactly been on the table last night.

  Today was a completely different story. She was freshly scrubbed and makeup-free. Her long, blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail, accentuating high cheekbones and a bottom lip that was slightly fuller than the top, giving her a look of near innocence. Near, but not quite.