Brides on the Run (Books 1-4)

by Jami Albright

  Pull yourself together, Charlie. You’ve done harder things.

  She’d had to kiss her co-star, Lance Peters, for two seasons, and his breath smelled like what they’d served at craft service the day before. If she could fake her way through that, then she could do this. And she’d acted the hell out of that too. She and Lance had been voted TV’s most swoon-worthy couple both years. Who said she couldn’t act? Screw them, whoever they were.

  Before she could talk herself into turning around and going home, she exited the car and locked it. The sweat on her hands made a wet streak on her jeans. She hoped she’d dressed appropriately. Hailey hadn’t told her what to wear, so she’d dressed like she was going to a country and western club. Boots, jeans, and a loose-fitting top.

  The music was playing, and the club was darker than it had been the day before. The smell of stale beer and peanuts had her breathing through her mouth, which wasn’t doing anything for her nerve-induced dry mouth.

  Why did it have to be peanuts? She puked every time Wardell pulled out the peanut butter at home, and he ate the stuff on everything.

  Keep it together, Pod. I’m not joking. Hold your nose and think about rainbows and unicorns.

  She quickly ducked into the bathroom that was blessedly empty. Once she was safely ensconced in the stall, she began bargaining with the one that seemed to be in charge of her bodily functions lately. “I’ll make you a deal, Pod. You stay quiet and don’t cause a ruckus, and I’ll eat an extra dessert tomorrow just for you. Deal?” She leaned her forehead against the metal door, then quickly yanked it back. Now she had to disinfect her whole face. The courage she sucked into her lungs came with a small dose of fetid air, and she waited to see if Pod would throw a fit. She took the nonreaction as a good sign.

  “Alright, Pod, let’s go to work.”

  She flushed the toilet for good measure and exited the stall, and nearly had a heart attack when she saw Hailey standing by the sink with her arms behind her back. “Oh! You scared me.”

  “Who were you talking to?”

  “Myself.” Crap, crap, crap. This was not good. She couldn’t tell the truth, but she also didn’t want Hailey believing the rumors about her mental instability. Charlie eyed the door. She needed to get out of this bathroom before The Pod revolted.

  “Who’s Pod?”

  “Huh?”

  “Who is Pod?” Hailey said the phrase like Charlie wasn’t an English speaker.

  “Um…” Who indeed? “It’s my pet name for myself.” She chuckled and flicked her hand like it was no big deal that she’d just been caught talking to her alien tagalong. “It’s a Hollywood thing. Everyone has one. Jen Lawrence is Candy because she eats a lot of candy, Zac Efron is The Stud.”

  Hailey gave her an unimpressed scowl. “Of course he is.”

  “Right? I know. But he’s not really stuck up at all. He’s actually very cool—a real sweetheart. And Chris Pratt is Mongoose, no idea why he chose that name. We don’t really speak anymore.” She flicked her hand and rolled her eyes. “Don’t ask. Anyway, it’s an acting trick to help combat performance anxiety.” A self-effacing shrug to show she was sincere. “I’m a little nervous about tonight.”

  Hailey’s eyes squinted like she was trying to decipher some kind of code. “Mmhmm.”

  “Well, let’s get to it, shall we?” Charlie stepped around her old best friend and grabbed the door handle.

  “Ah, Pod? You forgot something.”

  “What?”

  Hailey pulled something from behind her back. “Your uniform.”

  “My…”

  “Uniform.” The glint of vengefulness in Hailey’s eyes let Charlie know that her boss was going to enjoy making her wear the Daisy Duke shorts and low-cut baby-doll top.

  “Can’t I just wear my own clothes? I mean, I’m dressed to go to a country bar.” She held out her hands in case Hailey couldn’t see she looked like a damn rodeo queen.

  “Sorry, that won’t do. We have a strict uniform code here at Boon’s Saloon.” She extended said uniform toward Charlie and shook it.

  This was ridiculous. “What if it doesn’t fit?”

  Hailey shrugged. “If it’s too big, I have some safety pins in the office, and if it’s too small…well, more tips for you. Meet me at the bar in ten minutes.”

  When the door closed behind her, Charlie held the scraps of material up. The shorts looked more like a collar than something you’d wear to cover your butt. At least the top wasn’t a halter and wouldn’t be tight-fitting around the middle.

  She took the clothes back into the stall. She eyed the waistband of the shorts and knew immediately there was going to be a problem. Her shirt came off first—no way was she standing in the bathroom of Boon’s Saloon in only her underwear. The necKlein of the top was so low and tight that her boobs looked like two water balloons one drop of liquid away from exploding. If Hailey was right about tighter clothes meaning more tips, then her money woes were over.

  Now for the pants. She got rid of her jeans, then shimmied the shorts up her legs and over her hips, but there was no way in hell those bad boys were buttoning. She pulled a hair tie from her wrist and hooked one end to the button of the shorts, looped the band through the hole, then looped it back over the button to give her another inch or so. Even then they were riding up her butt.

  She surveyed herself in the mirror after exiting the stall. “Oh, my Lord. Pod, cover your eyes.” She looked like the topper for Hugh Hefner’s birthday cake. There was nothing whatsoever left to the imagination in this outfit. The only good news was that you couldn’t see her slightly rounded belly.

  Oh well, nothing to do but gut it out. The good news was that it was dark in the bar and her hair was long enough to cover her heaving breasts. The porcelain of the sink was cool on her sweaty hands as she gripped the side. Her blue eyes were a little wild, and her skin was a bit pale, but it didn’t matter. She’d be grateful for this job and this hoochie-mama outfit if it helped her and The Pod survive. One last breath in, then out. “Okay. Let’s do this thing.”

  Music rang through the speakers, and the neon lights above the bar gave the room an otherworldly glow, like aliens had perpetrated a redneck abduction. Hailey was at the bar with two other women dressed exactly like Charlie, except their uniforms fit.

  “Tracy and Maria, this is Charlie—”

  “OMG! You’re Charlie Kay?”

  A real smile spread across her face at Maria’s sincere enthusiasm. “That’s me.”

  “It’s so great to meet you,” Maria gushed.

  “Thank you. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Wait. Why are you working here?”

  The confusion on the girl’s face would’ve been funny if Charlie weren’t currently trying to figure out something to say without lying. “I—”

  “She’s researching a role, okay?” Hailey said. “Can we get down to business?”

  “Ooooh, really? That’s so cool.” The admiration in Maria’s eyes escalated to just above fan and just below stalker.

  She wasn’t going to outright lie, but she was willing to let them think what they wanted.

  “’Sup,” Tracy said, and gave Charlie a nod.

  “Hello.” These two seemed friendly enough.

  Her cranky boss glared at the three of them. “Are we done becoming BFFs?”

  “I’m ready to get to work, Hailey.” Kill ’em with kindness, as her grandmother always used to say.

  Hailey gave her the same look she did when she’d handed her the uniform. “I’m so glad to hear you say that, Charlie.” She grabbed a broom that was leaning against the bar. “How do you feel about peanuts?”

  She glanced around at all the shells on the ground. Suddenly, peanuts were all she could smell. Pod threw the mother of all fits.

  She turned and sprinted for the bathroom.

  That kid was so grounded.

  Chapter 17

  Hank kept Thomas Chang’s taillights in sight. He’d stayed three c
ar lengths behind him, but in Zachsville that didn’t mean much, since there were hardly three cars on the road right now.

  Following Thomas had been a spur-of-the-moment decision. He’d been pulling out of the gas station after filling up his truck and seen the young man drive by.

  Unfortunately, or fortunately, since he was in civilian clothes and not currently on duty, he hadn’t seen the guy do anything out of the ordinary. He followed as Thomas turned into Boon’s parking lot and disappeared into the honky-tonk. If Thomas was going in, then so was he.

  The dimly lit, familiar room engulfed him as he entered behind his suspect. There was a pretty good crowd for a Thursday night. Couples danced, a group of men and woman played darts in the corner. It was all pretty normal except for Thomas Chang and the Hollywood star sweeping peanut shells.

  And…holy shit. Against his will, he followed the motion of her hips as she moved the broom back and forth. Her barely-there shorts and cowboy boots made her legs look like the runway to paradise that he knew they were. The image of those legs wrapped around his hips made him grip the wall to steady himself.

  While the sight of her backside conjured all kinds of amazing memories, nothing could’ve prepared him for the sight of her when she turned around. It was all he could do not to rip off his own shirt and throw it over her. Her breasts were practically coming out of the top. Being at home had done her some good and put a little meat on her bones. Unfortunately for him, the extra weight seemed to be in her chest. She looked like every cowboy’s wet dream, and it pissed him off.

  His prey forgotten, now his quarry had changed. He made a beeline toward the scantily clad Hollywood starlet. This had nothing to do with the fact that they’d slept together, or the feelings he’d shoved from his life—this was about her protection. At least that was what he told himself, but even he didn’t believe it.

  White-hot anger fueled his approach, and he yanked the broom out of her hands. “What the hell are you wearing?”

  Her big, startled eyes briefly gave him a pang of regret for coming at her that way, but then she flipped her hair out of her face, and her brows slammed down over her furious icicle-blue eyes. “What the hell are you doing?”

  He took her by the elbow and maneuvered her down a small hall behind the bar. She jerked away from him when he stopped moving. His arms went across his chest, and he blocked her way out of the hallway. “You can scowl at me all you want, Charlie, but you aren’t going back out there in that outfit.” He knew he should stop. Why had he done this? It was wildly inappropriate, but for the life of him, he couldn’t stop. It was like this pissed-off blonde beauty had cut the breaks on his self-control.

  “And who’s going to stop me from going back out there, Hank?” She advanced on him, and he got lost in the way her breasts bounced above the neck of her top, which only made him angrier. A long, slender finger jabbed at his face. “You have zero say in my life.”

  “Someone needs to have some say if you’re going to go around dressed like that.” He kept one arm across his body and gestured toward her uniform with the other.

  “You are unbelievable. You know that? I’m a grown woman, and nobody gets to tell me what I’m going to wear. Are you insane? You’re not my daddy, my boyfriend, or my husband.” Her fists slammed to her hips. “In fact, you’re someone else’s husband. What’s your wife wearing tonight, Sheriff? Huh?”

  That should’ve been enough to make him walk away from her, but they were nose to nose, and he just wanted one more minute to pull her scent deep into his lungs.

  Wrong, wrong, wrong, his brain screamed at him.

  He shouldn’t be alone with her in a dark hallway. He shouldn’t care what she wore, and he sure as hell shouldn’t be sporting wood just because the heat of her body wound around him like silken shackles. His inability to step away from her kept him rooted to the spot.

  The closeness had them exchanging breaths.

  Breathe her in. Breathe her out.

  Against his will, he looped a stray hair behind her ear. His finger skimmed the warm skin just behind the lobe. Her lids slid shut, and she leaned her head toward his hand. He wouldn’t identify what that slight tilt of her head did to his heart, but he would suck it in, soak it up, and savor it for a bit longer. The moment hung between them like paper flowers in the rain. Beautiful, remarkable, and fragile as glass.

  Breathe her in. Breathe her out.

  The neon lights screwed with his vision. Alabama’s Feels So Right blared through the speakers. The combined scents of cologne, stale beer, and peanuts assaulted them. She hated him. He was furious with her. It was too dark, too loud, too oppressively hot.

  Didn’t matter. It was the most perfect moment he’d ever lived. It floated between them like the final notes of the saddest song he’d ever heard.

  Breathe her in. Breathe her out.

  The song changed to a fast two-stepping tune. A cheer rose up from the dart game. One of the neon lights flicked off then flicked back on, and the spell shattered, blown apart by reality and fucking horrible timing.

  Her eyes opened with a dreamy haze. It cleared faster than fog in a strong wind, and she pulled away from him. No, that wasn’t quite right, she removed herself from him with a clear, definitive step away from his body. “I have to get back to work.”

  A nod was all he could manage. That moment had been more intimate than anything he and Karen had ever shared, and it rattled him to the core.

  She stepped around him, walked to the end of the hall, and paused. She didn’t face him. “Don’t ever do that again, Hank. We’re not friends, you’re not my boyfriend, you’re just someone I used to know, who I made a huge mistake with. Now leave me alone.”

  The command pierced through him. She was right, of course. He needed to leave her alone. She wasn’t his business anymore. Nothing but memories tethered them to one another now.

  Chapter 18

  Charlie couldn’t wait to get home and drown her sorrows with multiple containers of Greek yogurt. Her first shift at Boon’s had not been a rousing success. The events of the night looped through her brain like one of those crash test dummy commercials—a series of horrible disasters in slow motion, the most dramatic of which was her running to puke three times.

  Pod was in time-out, and she had a date with some non-fat, gluten-free, low-sugar dairy products. Lord, she was pitiful. She didn’t even know how to throw a proper pity party. Just one more thing she didn’t know how to do. Like sweep peanut shells, apparently.

  Sweeping those freaking husks had been the worst thing Hailey could’ve made her do. The smell of peanut was permanently embedded in her nostrils. Just the thought of it caused her to blow little puffs of air from her mouth.

  Then there’d been that stupid uniform. The shorts rode up her ass all night long. She’d pulled them out of her crack so many times that she had blisters forming on her thumb and forefinger. No idea why she bothered, because every time she yanked them free, her butt cheeks would gobble them back up. Humiliating, not to mention uncomfortable.

  The top hadn’t been any better. She’d spent the entire shift trying to harness her pregnant boobs in the barely there neck. No small feat, considering they’d begun to take on a life of their own. Every time she moved, they looked like ocean buoys in rough seas. How had they gotten so big in such a short time?

  She turned into her grandfather’s drive and rolled to a stop. The real reason for her crappy mood, though, was the encounter with Hank. He was a jumble of mixed messages that her inexperienced heart had no way of deciphering. What had he been thinking? They weren’t lovers. Hell, they weren’t even friends. That thought caused an ache beneath her ribs.

  She switched off the car and was just about to open the door when a flash of light from the backyard caught her attention. What the hell? She blinked a couple of times. She must’ve imagined it. No. There it was again. The beam moved back and forth like a pendulum. Who could be in their backyard with a flashlight at one in the morning?


  An intruder.

  The two pieces of her broken heart began to beat double-time, each trying to out do the other.

  Was Pops safe? She had to protect him. He was old and still recovering from his accident. This would scare him to death. She reached for her phone to dial 9-1-1, but the damn thing was dead.

  Shit.

  How far was it to the front door? Could she make it inside before whoever was in the backyard saw her? There wasn’t a back fence, so they’d have no trouble getting to her if they wanted to.

  Even though it was a chilly fall night, sweat broke out around her hairline and on her neck. The baby hairs around her face stuck to her damp forehead. Each inhalation did less and less to fill her needy lungs until she was dizzy and lightheaded.

  She needed a plan. The neighbor? No. They were a half a mile up the road. She couldn’t leave Pops alone with some bad guy toting a flashlight, and God knew what else.

  From her vantage point, she could see around one side of the house and a small part of the backyard, where the light still swung back and forth.

  Get inside and call the authorities. That was her only option. One attempt, then two to unbuckle her seatbelt, and finally, on the third try, her trembling fingers were able to manipulate the release. She flipped the switch so the interior lights wouldn’t blow her cover when she exited the vehicle. As quietly as she could, she opened the car door, thanking God for the lack of streetlights and that there wasn’t a full moon.

  Her sweaty fingers slid under the door handle once she was out of the car and she gently closed it. She took just a second to make sure her nerve-rattled legs would hold her before she made a run for it, hoping like hell she could make it.

  She never got a chance to find out. A scream ripped up her throat and died against the hand over her mouth.