The Cowboy's Runaway Bride

by Nancy Robards Thompson

  “My story is I would love another glass of wine,” she said, turning her back to the camera. “Let’s go get something to drink and I will tell you anything you want to know.”

  Within reason, she added silently.

  With the photographer on the loose, Chelsea wanted to stay a safe distance away. She couldn’t take any more chances.

  Ethan handed her a glass of red wine and he sipped something clear and bubbly.

  “Is that club soda?” She gestured to his glass.

  “It is.”

  “Are you the designated driver?”

  “Actually, I don’t drink. Alcohol and I don’t get along.”

  “If this bothers you—” she held up her glass “—I can have club soda, too. Or just water.”

  “The only thing that’ll bother me is if you don’t enjoy your wine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He nodded.

  “Fair enough,” she said, feeling a little awkward about touching her wineglass to his seltzer water, but knowing it would be worse if she didn’t.

  It took a strong man to admit that he and alcohol didn’t get along. She found his honesty refreshing. Apparently, there was more to Ethan Campbell than first met the eye, complex layers that ran much deeper than she’d realized. She realized how little she knew about him and how much more she wanted to know. But for now, this was a good start.

  She turned to him and said, “I promised you my story in exchange for wine. What do you want to know?”

  He was just opening his mouth to speak when one of the bridesmaids materialized. “You do know you’re standing under the mistletoe, right?” She pointed toward the ceiling. Ethan and Chelsea both looked up. Sure enough, they had planted themselves right under one of the green orbs.

  Those who were around them started chanting, “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

  Before she even knew what was happening, Ethan placed his hand on the back of her neck, leaned in and pressed his lips to hers.

  It was a tender kiss. Whisper-soft, but lingering. He tasted of lemons from his club soda and something else that was uniquely him...and quite delicious. For a moment the entire world telescoped and disappeared until it was just the two of them, his lips on hers, his warm hand, which had somehow slipped beneath her hair to rest, skin on skin, on the back of her neck.

  A bright flash of light shocked her senses and dropped her with a thud back in the here and now. When Chelsea pulled away from Ethan, she blinked at the sight of Lucy standing there with her cell phone aimed at them.

  “Smile, you two,” Lucy said. The flash blinded them as she snapped yet another shot.

  Chapter Six

  The kiss had rocked Chelsea’s world, shaken her down to the core. Much more than she cared to admit. It was a kiss that she’d felt all the way to the center of her. But then she’d realized they had an audience and their kiss had been captured in a photograph. She’d murmured something about needing to catch up with Juliette and had beaten a hasty retreat. Ethan hadn’t come after her, making it pretty clear that he, too, was fine putting some distance between them.

  However, Lucy seemed eager to talk when she caught up with Chelsea.

  “Come take a walk with me,” Lucy said. “I think you need to get some air.”

  They’d gone outside and walked past the porte cochere to a bench next to the fountain in the center of the driveway. They were far enough away from the valets and guests who were leaving early that they wouldn’t be overheard. The sound of the water and the noise of purring car engines provided an extra sound screen to give them enough privacy to talk.

  Lucy spoke first.

  “Lady Chelsea Ashford Alden, I presume. Should I curtsy or something? Because you’re royalty, aren’t you?”

  “Bloody hell,” Chelsea muttered under her breath in full accent. A wave of nausea rippled through her. She had forgotten how awful it felt to face people who knew about her fall from grace, people who had seen the evidence. “No, I’m not royal.”

  “But you have a title.”

  “That’s because my father is the Earl of Downing. Lucy, what are you going to do with those pictures?”

  Lucy shot her a smug look.

  “Erase them, please,” Chelsea demanded.

  “No, they’re great,” Lucy said as she scrolled through them on her phone. “Here, look.”

  She held out the cell so that Chelsea could see, but stopped short of handing her the phone.

  Sure enough, there she and Ethan were, locking lips. She started to breathe a sigh of relief because in the shot, Ethan’s face was blocking hers. He could’ve been kissing any blond woman in a red dress. But it was the second shot that sent the premature sense of relief sailing right out the proverbial window. In that picture, both she and Ethan were squinting right at the camera, looking like wildlife caught in headlights.

  When you put the two photos side by side, there was no mistake who Ethan Campbell had been kissing in the first picture.

  “What do you plan to do with the pictures, Lucy?”

  “I haven’t decided yet.”

  “Please don’t put them on social media.” She hated how desperate her voice sounded.

  “Why not?” Lucy asked coyly.

  “For obvious reasons. You know what I’m talking about.” Oh, dear God, Lucy already knew about her predicament. Was she going to have to spell it out for her? She really had hoped that she would’ve exercised a little compassion. Actually, Chelsea still couldn’t tell what her motivation was, if she was just getting a kick out of torturing her or if she really did have plans for the photos—like extortion.

  Chelsea cleared her throat, trying to dislodge the lump of frustration and panic that was nearly choking her. “I came to Celebration to get away from the press. I wanted to get out of the public eye so I could get my life back together. When the Tattler released that video clip, it not only turned my life upside down, but it hurt my family, too. If you publish those pictures—even on social media—I’m afraid chaos will start up all over again. Will you please take pity on me and delete them?”

  “But it’s such a good picture of you and my brother. I haven’t seen him look this happy in ages.”

  “He looks startled. He doesn’t look happy. Neither of us looks happy in those pictures. Look, Lucy, what do you want from me?”

  Lucy was looking down at her phone again. “It’s simple, really. I want your design services.”

  “I’m already helping you. Are you blackmailing me?”

  “Why?” She looked up at Chelsea with big, innocent eyes. “Would it work if I did?”

  Now it was Chelsea’s turn to stare at Lucy, and she was sure she was looking at her as if she had two heads, but Chelsea really was at a profound loss for words.

  Lucy must’ve noticed how uncomfortable Chelsea felt because she immediately said, “I’ll pay you, of course. It’s not like I’m trying to blackmail design services out of you.”

  “But you are implying if I choose not to continue with your project then you’ll plaster the photos of me kissing your brother all over the internet?”

  “You don’t have to put it that way.”

  “But that seems to be the only offer on the table.”

  “You don’t have to make it sound so criminal. I’ve always believed that when you do something for a friend the friend should do something for you. I’ll keep the photos and your identity safe, you help me get my barn in shape to open.”

  “I didn’t realize we were friends.”

  “Of course we are. And we’re going to be even better friends by the time this is over. Plus, there’s a special built-in bonus just for you. You’ll get to spend more time with my brother. I think you two make an adorable couple.”

  Couple? One kiss under th
e mistletoe at a spring wedding did not make them a couple. She thought about asking Lucy what Ethan would think of her little game of extortion. She also thought about simply pulling the phone out of Lucy’s hands and deleting the photos herself, but instead she opted for a more sensible right of refusal.

  “I’m not licensed to work as an interior designer in the US.”

  “You don’t have to be licensed. I’m not asking you to take down walls.”

  “But you were talking about adding that second story. I can’t help you with that.”

  “Someone else can handle that part, Lady Chelsea.”

  “Please don’t call me that.”

  “Why not? If I had a title, I’d insist people called me Lady Lucy. Not only do you have the title, you have the vision to get my barn into shape. You described exactly what I want. I’m not asking you to stay forever. That would be up to you and my brother. Still, can’t you think of this as a win-win? I get my barn designed and you get to spend more time with my Ethan.”

  The crazy thing was Lucy’s win-win didn’t sound altogether bad. She had to admit that she was excited about the kiss—er—the project. Yes, the project. She’d never had a chance to see a design task through from start to finish. At least it would be a way that she could keep herself busy when she wasn’t helping Juliette. And, in a sense, helping Lucy pull this old barn into shape so that she could open the wedding venue in Celebration would also be helping out Juliette, because it would give her a venue closer to home.

  “We might be able to work out a deal, but I need something from you, Lucy.”

  “Anything. Just name it.”

  “I need for you to give me your word that not only will you not sell or post those photos anywhere, you also have to promise me that you will keep my secret, too. Juliette knows, but I don’t want anyone else in Celebration to know the reason I’m here. Do we have a deal?”

  “I can’t promise that nobody else in Celebration reads the British tabloids, but you have my word that I will not sell you out. I won’t tell anyone else what I know about you and I won’t sell or post the pictures.”

  Lucy stuck out her hand. As the cool evening breeze ruffled the nearby hedges, Chelsea regarded Lucy’s proffered hand for a moment. She wanted to believe her. She seemed like she was pretty up front about everything. Maybe Chelsea was naive, but she really wanted to believe Lucy was a decent person.

  To prove as much, she shook her hand.

  “Actually, as a show of good faith and in the spirit of working together, I’d like for you to delete the photos right now.”

  A mischievous look colored Lucy’s eyes. “I’ll do one better. I’ll send them to you and erase them on my phone. Because I’m willing to bet that not too long from now you’re going to want a picture of your first kiss with my brother. What’s your phone number? I mean, I’m going to need your number anyway if we’re going to be working together. Giving me your number will be your good faith gesture.”

  As Chelsea rattled off her digits, the whole bizarre situation struck her as funny. Nothing in her life had ever been conventional. Not even her first independent design job, where a photo of a first kiss served as the contract.

  The photos came through on a ping, and Chelsea checked to make sure she’d received them both. When she looked up, she saw Lucy holding up her phone and, one by one, sending the pictures to the trash can icon.

  “They’re gone, okay? I mean, you can check my phone if you want.”

  Chelsea took Lucy’s phone and scrolled through all the photo albums. There were several selfies of Lucy making silly faces, a couple of shots of the barn, photos of Lucy with some girlfriends and a few from tonight of her and Zane with their heads together.

  They really would make a handsome couple. But the two of Chelsea and Ethan were gone. They weren’t even in the recently deleted bin.

  She handed the phone back to Lucy.

  “Are we good then?”

  Chelsea nodded.

  Lucy drummed her manicured nails on her phone case. She looked as if she wanted to say something. But Chelsea remained quiet, letting her speak first.

  “I don’t want you to think that I really would blackmail you. Obviously, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

  “I don’t mind helping you, Lucy. You and I are sort of kindred spirits. I know you’ve been searching for your place. Juliette really thinks this wedding barn might be a good thing for you.”

  “I love the sentiment,” Lucy said. “But how exactly does that make us kindred spirits?”

  “Because I understand what it’s like to be searching and how it feels when no one takes you seriously.”

  Chelsea told Lucy about her successful siblings and how her ex’s releasing the tape had cast a shadow over her entire family. That was why she’d left London. The embarrassment that had made her sick to her stomach had nearly paralyzed her when she realized the way it affected her family.

  “I’m sorry, but I just have to ask,” Lucy said when she was finished doing as she promised. “Why did you let the creep film you if you didn’t want it splashed all over the internet? Nowadays, you just can’t be too careful or too trusting.”

  “I didn’t know he was filming me,” Chelsea said. “We’d been dating a while. I never dreamed he would do something like that. I trusted him. Am I foolish to trust you?”

  “No! You can trust me,” Lucy said.

  “I hope so, because if you tell anyone who I really am, word is bound to get around. If the press shows up I’ll have to leave Celebration. I won’t be able to finish your barn.”

  “I understand.”

  “If the press does get wind—even if it’s not your fault—you understand I’ll have to leave. I decided to come to Celebration and stay with Juliette because I didn’t want to hide out in my flat in London. Celebration is a much smaller town than London. If anyone gets wind of this, I’ll have no choice but to leave.”

  “I already told you, your secret is safe with me. I promise I will not say a word to anyone. But you might want to think about confiding in Ethan. He’s a good guy and he could be a great source of support.”

  That was exactly what she was worried about and that was exactly why she wouldn’t be confiding in Ethan. She could get used to kisses like that, and that was the last thing she needed right now.

  “There you are.” The sound of Ethan’s voice breaking through the night air as if they had conjured him startled her even more than seeing the camera flash go off. Concern commandeered his features as he looked back and forth between Lucy and her. “I’ve been looking all over for you two. Is everything okay?”

  Chapter Seven

  Ethan couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss. It had been spontaneous and she’d kissed him back as if she’d liked it as much as he had. But then she’d gotten spooked when the damn camera flash went off. When he’d found her outside by the fountain with Lucy, she’d asked him to take her home because she wasn’t feeling well.

  The drive was mostly silent. He wasn’t sure if he should apologize for kissing her. The only reason he didn’t was if she truly was angry at him, would she have gotten in his truck for a half-hour ride back to Celebration?

  As she stared out the passenger window, he’d pondered all these things as they drove through the inky night.

  Where was she hiding that fancy tattoo? Based on her reaction to Lucy, Ethan was sure Chelsea had one somewhere on that body.

  When they’d reached Juliette’s house, he’d walked her up to the door. His instincts had told him to give her space, not to kiss her, even though he ached to taste those lips again.

  Instead, he joked, “Are you using the front door or the bathroom window tonight? I can give you a boost if it’s the latter. I pride myself on being a gentleman like that.”

 
“You’re a funny guy, Ethan Campbell.” She held up a key ring, letting it dangle between them. For a moment the way she looked at him made him think she just might lean in herself. Maybe even invite him inside. But then she closed that figurative door. “And you are most definitely a gentleman. Thank you for rescuing me. Good night.”

  It was fine. He could respect that. It was probably for the best. He wasn’t looking for anything permanent. She was only visiting Celebration. Who knew how long she would be there?

  He had no idea what was going on inside that pretty head of hers, but the kiss proved—at least to himself—he was not a stick-in-the-mud.

  If he was honest with himself, tonight something had awakened inside him. He was feeling things he hadn’t felt in a very long time. While he wasn’t looking to fall in love, spending more time with Chelsea Allen just might be the cure for his old man syndrome, a condition that he was just realizing he’d been suffering. He and Molly had been divorced for five years now; he’d been sober for more than two years. Somehow in that time he had stopped living. Life—that was what he’d felt in Chelsea’s kiss. She had such a zest for life—maybe some of that zest would rub off on him. Since she wouldn’t be there long, maybe they could see each other. She just might be a good interim step in the right direction. Someone to prime the pump, get him back out there in the world again. But he knew he needed to take it slow.

  * * *

  The Triple C was a relative newcomer compared to other ranches in the area. Ethan’s granddad had started the business back in the ’40s. After his granddad had passed, Ethan’s dad, Leroy, had inherited the ranch along with the responsibility to nurture and grow the ranch so that future generations of Campbells might continue the legacy. The only problem was that Leroy loved the bottle more than the business and his drinking began to get in the way. After a while, the only thing that kept the Triple C afloat were the good people that Leroy had working for him. Or so Ethan thought. But after the car accident, which killed Leroy and paralyzed his mother, Ethan realized the business was in worse shape than it appeared on the surface.