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The Rancher and the Runaway Bride
Susan Mallery
New York Times bestselling author Susan Mallery returns with a poignant classic about finding love and freeing oneself from the past.Michelle Sanderson may appear to be a strong, independent woman, but on the inside she's still the wounded girl who fled home years ago. A young army vet, Michelle returns to the quaint Blackberry Island Inn to claim her inheritance and recover from the perils of war. Instead, she finds the owner's suite occupied by the last person she wants to see–Carly Williams. She and Michelle were once inseparable, until a shocking betrayal destroyed their friendship. And now Carly is implicated in the financial disaster lurking behind the inn's cheerful veneer.Single mother Carly has weathered enough rumors, lies and secrets for a lifetime, and is finally starting to move forward with her life. But if the Blackberry Island Inn goes under, Carly and her daughter will go with it. To save their livelihoods, Carly and Michelle will undertake a turbulent truce. It'll take more than a successful season to move beyond their devastating past, but with a little luck and a beautiful summer, they may just rediscover the friendship of a lifetime.
As a devastating summer storm hits Grand Springs, Colorado, the next thirty-six hours will change the town and its residents forever….
Randi Howell had already fled her wedding when the lights went out leaving everyone confused. That's when she overheard a murder plot. Now on the run from the ruthless killers and a furious fiancé, she's made it halfway across the country to Texas. Brady Jones's ranch is the perfect safe haven—big sky, horses and no questions.
Brady has taken in enough misfits and strays to know trouble when he sees it, but something about the feisty woman with the raven curls makes him give her a chance. Just as Randi is making him face his fears about love he learns she may have put everyone in danger….
Book 7 of the 36 Hours series. Don’t miss Book 8: An abandoned baby, a marriage of convenience—the storm turns lives upside down in Marriage by Contract by Sandra Steffen.
The Rancher and the Runaway Bride
Susan Mallery
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Contents
Prologue (#uc9822602-6507-583b-aeb6-e44f6f5d9e7a)
Chapter One (#u3d5f9a0b-4f2a-573a-8aab-8f5dd04b294d)
Chapter Two (#u29409705-db43-5a5b-b4e3-1deebe0e2088)
Chapter Three (#ub9d615ac-67bc-5959-b7ae-9bd3f2ed5e05)
Chapter Four (#u2f7a1010-98f7-5781-aaa5-c27c917add79)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue
Brides were supposed to be beautiful and happy, Randi Howell told herself as she smoothed the front of her white satin wedding gown. Or at least reasonably attractive and content. Panic was not on the list of acceptable emotions. She didn’t want to think about what she must look like, but she had a bad feeling her eyes were wide and filled with a hunted expression. Gee, at least a “deer in the headlights” look would make the wedding photos interesting.
“It’s not so bad,” she said aloud, wishing her voice sounded more confident. “After all, I’m marrying Hal. He won’t be a horrible husband.”
Despite the nerves banging around in her stomach and the alternating urge to throw up or break out in a rash, she had to smile at that one. Hal would be annoyed if he knew she thought of him as “not so horrible.” Hardly praise every groom dreamed about.
Randi paced the length of the room. It was all of eight steps. The small meeting room, one of many at the far end of the Squaw Creek Lodge, had been converted into a temporary “bride’s room” for the wedding. Although the ballroom had been festooned with flowers, candles and beautifully set tables for the reception, the decorations didn’t extend this far back. The tiny room contained only an oval mirror in the corner, a florist’s box with her bouquet, a folding chair piled high with her street clothes and nothing else. At least the room was carpeted. The hallways weren’t. The only bright spot in an otherwise dismal situation was that she was alone.
Her mother had wanted to spend these last few minutes giving Randi instructions and reminding her how socially important the wedding would be, launching Randi into Grand Springs society. Randi grimaced at the thought, pleased she’d insisted on spending this time by herself. The only place she wanted to be launched was to another continent.
“Stop it!” she told herself firmly. “You’re getting married. Hundreds of women do this every day. Love is a difficult concept at best. How do you know you don’t love Hal?”
She stopped in midpace and slowly faced the mirror. The medieval-style gown clung to her from shoulders to hips, then flared out to the floor. The heavy satin swayed in counterpoint to her movements, creating grace from her tomboyish walk.
She raised her gaze higher, past the pearls her mother had given her to wear, to her face. Despite perfect makeup, she was pale, her skin nearly the color of ash.
The realization began slowly, a small kernel of knowledge that sprouted, then grew quickly, like one of those time-lapse images on television. It wasn’t that she didn’t love Hal, she wasn’t sure she even liked him.
She’d fallen into the engagement, as she’d fallen into everything else in her life. Because it was easy. Easier than making her own way.
“I don’t want this,” she whispered, suddenly sure she couldn’t marry Hal. But what was the alternative? How could she get out of this situation? One thing was certain. This time her daddy or her big brother Noah weren’t going to come to her rescue. This time she would have to take care of it herself.
“Mom is gonna kill me,” she muttered as she glanced around the room, trying to figure out what she was going to say to the older woman.
What if her mother tried to talk her into getting married, anyway? After all, everything was paid for, the guests were waiting. She had about three minutes of freedom left.
“I need more time,” Randi said. “I have to think and figure out what I want. Dear Lord, this would be a really great time for a miracle.”
She waited about two heartbeats, then figured God was busy. She was going to have to make her own miracle.
She grabbed her purse and considered writing a note. No time, she thought, hearing the organ music start another song. She’d been over the music list so many times, she had it memorized. The wedding march would begin next.
After slipping off her shoes so she could walk quietly down the linoleum floors, she left the bride’s room and headed for the rear entrance of the ski lodge. At least it was June and she wouldn’t have to worry about freezing. In the winter, she couldn’t have gone outside in just a wedding gown.
The back door of the lodge was in sight when she heard voices heading her way.
“Drat.” She glanced around, looking for a place to hide. There were meeting rooms on both sides of the hall. The first door she tried was locked, but the second gave way. She stepped inside and waited.
Barely breathing, she pressed her ear to the door. The voices got louder as two people walked by. From a snippet she caught of their conversation, she realized they were kitchen employees taking a break.
Randi breathed a sigh of relief. Now to escape.
But before she could open the door, the tiny hairs on the back of her neck prickled. She heard voices again, but these weren’t coming from outside. They came from directly behind her. She wasn’t alone.
Maybe it was the stress from the wedding, or her concentration on the people in the corridor, but when she’d first entered the windowless conference room she hadn’t noticed the lights were on. A quick glance over her shoulder showed a couple of jackets tossed on a long conference table. There was an alcove to the left. She could hear the clink of glass, then noticed the smell of coffee.
Great. There was a meeting going on. She had to get out of here before someone saw her. Bad enough to be running away from her own wedding. Worse to be caught in the act.
“Jo will take care of the old broad,” a strange male voice said. “That’s her specialty.”
Randi paused for a second. The statement didn’t make sense. Then she realized the man must be talking about a nurse. For a while she’d thought about that as a career. After all, her brother was a doctor. Then she bit back a moan. The men having a meeting might be doctors, too. Oh, Lord, she probably knew them.
Get out! she ordered herself.
She swung the door open wide and took a step toward the now-empty hallway and freedom. As she shifted her weight forward, her stocking-clad foot came down on a carpet tack.
Life was not fair, she thought as she yelped involuntarily.
“What the hell?” another man said.
He rounded the corner as Randi hopped in place, trying to balance on one leg while holding her purse and shoes and rubbing the injured foot.
She froze. The man approaching her was not a doctor. She’d never seen him before. But what really got her attention was the deadly looking gun he held in his right hand. The barrel was pointed directly at her.
She raised her gaze to his face. Above a close-clipped beard, dark eyes told an ugly story. This guy was going to kill her.
She waited for her life to pass before her eyes. Or did that only happen while drowning? She couldn’t remember. She couldn’t do anything but stand there, braced for the explosion that would end her life.
Instead, the lights went out.
The darkness was so complete, Randi thought she’d died. Then she realized the men were cursing and there hadn’t been a gunshot.
God had provided a miracle, after all.
“Thank you,” she said aloud as she bolted for the hallway.
Muffled curses followed her. There was a crash, and she assumed one of the men had run into the table.
Randi hit the wall a couple of times herself. In the distance, she saw an eerie red glow. The battery-powered emergency exit sign. She raced forward, slammed down on the bar to open the door and stepped out into the wet, storm-darkened evening.
Not bothering to look back, she headed for the highway. The ground was wet and rough beneath her bare feet; the rain drenched her in minutes. Without lights to guide her, she stumbled on the wet, muddy ground but kept on going. Fear provided an extra burst of speed.
When she reached the highway, she didn’t see any headlights and nearly stamped her foot in frustration. Then a low rumble filled the night and an eighteen-wheeler rounded the curve in the road.
Randi stepped directly in the truck’s path and waved her arms. The driver slowed.
Two minutes later she sat high in the seat, wet and mud-spattered, explaining that she was running away and needed a ride out of town. She didn’t mention the mysterious men with their guns, not sure what to say about them. Why on earth would anyone want to kill her simply for interrupting a meeting?
She tried to get her breathing under control. Terror and the damp made her shiver. What had just happened?
“Where you headin’?” the trucker asked, distracting her.
He was a burly man in his fifties. His kindly smile was comforting. And if not for the tight wad of tobacco between his lip and gum, she would think him perfect grandfather material. “Just about anywhere.”
“I’m going to Phoenix.”
“I’ve never been there. I think I might like it.”
The trucker stared at her oddly. Randi figured she deserved it. After all, she was a runaway bride complete with a wedding gown, flowers in her hair and lacy but torn stockings.
She sighed. Just last week she’d given herself a stern talking-to about facing her problems instead of bolting. Of course, in this case, her problems were bigger than she’d first imagined. Better to run than be shot.
Why had those men pulled guns on her? What was Hal going to say when he found out she was gone? What was her mother going to say?
She stared out the window while the driver tried to make conversation. The rain was stronger now. It felt as if it had been raining for weeks. As they circled around Grand Springs, she noticed there was a lot of mud on the highway and she didn’t see any lights. Looked like there was still a power outage. Maybe it would be enough to distract everyone so they wouldn’t notice she was gone.
If only that were true, she thought as the eighteen-wheeler drove southwest…toward safety.
Chapter One
Brady Jones leaned back in his chair, ignoring the loud creak as worn springs protested his weight. They’d been doing it since his dad had retired five years ago. Like everything on the West Texas ranch, the chair wasn’t new or fancy, but it worked and he figured it would outlast them all.
He glanced from the application he held to the woman perched uneasily on the straight-back wooden chair in front of his scarred desk. When she caught him looking, she gave him a big smile that didn’t make a dent in the worry lurking in her dark blue eyes.
Another hard-luck case, he thought as he dropped the application onto the printouts he’d been going through when she arrived. He’d always been good at spotting them. For one thing, the duffel bag at her feet was too small to contain more than a couple changes of clothing. She’d hitched a ride to the ranch instead of driving. Then there was the matter of her application. Too many lines left blank, too many vague references he wouldn’t be able to check out. No home address. No relatives.
He should kick her out on her shapely butt, because he didn’t need her kind of trouble, or temptation. That particular lesson had been hard won and never forgotten. These days he avoided women with mysterious pasts.
He should get rid of her, but as Tex would be happy to tell him, he was a bleeding-heart sucker for anything or anybody in need. So instead of saying the position had already been filled, he leaned back further, placed his booted feet on the desk and gave the woman an encouraging nod. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself, Ms.—” he glanced at the application “—Ms. Rita Howard.”
“I’m good with horses,” the woman said quickly. “I didn’t grow up on a ranch, but I’ve had lots of experience. I’ve been riding since I was about seven. I started with English and dressage, but one day I used a western saddle and I was hooked.”
This time her smile reached her eyes, brightening them until they gleamed like sun-soaked lake water on a perfect summer day. Brady nearly groaned out loud. He didn’t want to notice that, nor did he want to admit that he was itching to reach across the desk and touch one of the black curls springing free from her braid. She’d obviously combed her hair recently and braided it tightly in an effort to keep the curls in order, but it was a hopeless task. He would bet that by the end of the day, her hair was in complete disarray. Unfortunately, the image enchanted him.
“I worked in a stable all through high school,” she said. “I know my way around horses, Mr. Jones—”
“Brady,” he said, interrupting.
“Okay. Brady. I work cheap, I’m dependable, I don’t make trouble.” She shrugged. “I understand your reservations. You don’t know me from a rock, so you’re going to have to take my word about my good qualities.” She bit her lower lip. “I guess that’s it.”
She had a heart-shaped face and a cupid’s bow mouth. Stupid details to notice, he told himself. He would hire her or not hire her based on her abilities and his gut. His daddy had always taught him to listen to his gut, and so far, it had only let him down once. Of course, that other time had involved a woman, too, but he wasn’t going to think about that now.
Logically he shouldn’t give her a try. There was no reason to trust anything she’d said. Especially the part about not making trouble.
“There’s one thing you left out,” he said, lowering his feet to the floor. “You’ve got nowhere else to go.”
He met her gaze squarely, watching pride wrestle with reality. If only she knew how hard he wished she would claim some other job opportunity or a friend willing to take her in. He didn’t want this to be the end of her line.
She blinked twice, but didn’t speak. He swore silently. She didn’t have to speak; the quiver at the corner of her mouth said it all.
“I’ve gotten by before,” she said, and rose to her feet. “I’ll manage. Thanks for the interview, Mr. Jones.” She picked up her duffel bag and an expensive-looking purse.
