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Garrett Bravo's Runaway Bride
Christine Rimmer
Once again, she's running…When bride-to-be Cami Lockwood finally escapes the clutches of her domineering family, she accidentally stumbles straight into the mountain retreat of the most alluring man she’s ever met. Garrett Bravo’s never been lucky in love. But that’s before a one-of-a-kind heiress falls headlong onto his doorstep.But this time, she's running toward something!Garrett’s mother can’t resist matchmaking for her relentlessly unavailable son. So what better way to evade her meddling than to pretend that his accidental arrangement with creative, unique Cami is the real thing? Just one catch: He hadn’t bargained on falling head over heels for the runaway bride turned woman of his dreams….
Once again, she’s running...
When bride-to-be Cami Lockwood finally escapes the clutches of her domineering family, she accidentally stumbles straight into the mountain retreat of the most alluring man she’s ever met. Garrett Bravo’s never been lucky in love. But that’s before a one-of-a-kind heiress rushes headlong onto his doorstep.
But this time, she’s running toward something!
Garrett’s mother can’t resist matchmaking for her relentlessly unavailable son. So what better way to evade her meddling than to pretend that his accidental arrangement with creative, unique Cami is the real thing? Just one catch: he hadn’t bargained on falling head over heels for the runaway bride turned woman of his dreams...
“It all could have gone so terribly wrong.”
“But it didn’t.”
She caught her lower lip between her pretty white teeth. “I was so scared.”
“Hey.” He brushed a hand along her arm, just to reassure her. “You’re okay. And Munch is fine.”
She drew in a shaky breath and then, well, somehow it just happened. She dropped the purse. When she reached out, so did he.
He pulled her into his arms and breathed in the scent of her skin, so fresh and sweet with a hint of his own soap and shampoo. He heard the wind through the trees, a bird calling far off—and Munch at their feet, happily panting.
It was a fine moment and he savored the hell out of it.
“Garrett,” she whispered, like his name was her secret. And she tucked her blond head under his chin. She felt so good, so soft in all the right places. He wrapped her tighter in his arms and almost wished he would never have to let her go.
* * *
The Bravos Of Justice Creek: Where bold hearts collide under Western skies
Garrett Bravo’s Runaway Bride
Christine Rimmer
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CHRISTINE RIMMER came to her profession the long way around. She tried everything from acting to teaching to telephone sales. Now she’s finally found work that suits her perfectly. She insists she never had a problem keeping a job—she was merely gaining “life experience” for her future as a novelist. Christine lives with her family in Oregon. Visit her at www.christinerimmer.com (http://www.christinerimmer.com).
For MSR.
Always.
Contents
Cover (#u27356478-c7fe-5ca7-bb11-4ba0a470fe1c)
Back Cover Text (#u969f09c7-f4db-5f9a-8a4c-f6fbce3971fa)
Introduction (#u0b04a89a-e1dd-530b-8ef6-278e3e315a59)
Title Page (#u1454b779-0839-5dfd-99f0-5e82c1e9e7a8)
About the Author (#ue5824dc9-3dce-5adb-8032-d8070d4157cc)
Dedication (#u0350c5ab-1106-5823-bd96-6736bf58178c)
Chapter One (#u56ae19a6-3320-5ee4-8c02-f36ecc00b16a)
Chapter Two (#u860405f0-0a7c-54e7-b82f-b4425fa8504e)
Chapter Three (#u91c8939f-ee29-527d-8a1b-de20c73d4ff0)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
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)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ub2003608-5961-58c8-b686-03aa3a447fa5)
When the battered bride staggered into the circle of firelight, it was after nine at night, and Garrett Bravo was sitting outside his isolated getaway cabin slow-roasting a hot dog on a stick.
For a weirdly suspended moment, Garrett knew he must be hallucinating.
But how could that be? He’d never been the type who saw things that weren’t there. And he’d only had a couple of beers.
His Aussie sheepdog, Munch, let out a sharp whine of surprise.
“Munch. Stay.” He glanced sternly down at the dog, who quivered in place and stared at the apparition on the other side of their campfire.
Garrett looked up again. She was still there.
He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Finally, with a ridiculous shout of confusion and lingering disbelief, he jumped to his feet. The sudden movement knocked his hot dog off the stick and down to the dirt. He gaped at it as it fell. Munch cocked an ear and glanced up at him expectantly. When he failed to say no, the dog made short work of the fallen treat.
“Oh, really,” said the tattered vision in white. She came around the fire toward him, waving a grimy hand. “You don’t need to get up. It’s worse than it looks, I promise you.”
It looked pretty bad to him. Leaves decorated her straggling updo and nasty bruises marred her smooth bare shoulders and arms. Her left eye was deep purple and swollen shut. The poor woman’s big white dress was ripped in several places and liberally streaked with mud. And her bare feet? As battered as the rest of her.
“My God,” he croaked. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
She blew a tangled hank of blond hair out of her good eye and shrugged. “Well, I’ve been better.”
How could she be so calm? Had her groom gotten violent? If so, the man deserved a taste of his own damn medicine—and speaking of medicine, she needed a doctor. He should call for an ambulance, stat. He dropped his hot-dog stick on top of the ice chest by his chair and dug in a pocket for his phone.
But the phone wasn’t there. Because he’d left it in the cabin. Up here on the mountain, cell reception was nil.
Garrett let out a long string of bad words and then demanded, “Who did this to you?”
The bride remained unconcerned. She hitched a thumb back over her shoulder. “Little accident back down the road a ways.”
“Your groom...?”
“Oh, he’s still in Denver. Some stranger ran me off the road.” As he tried to process that bit of news, she added, “Camilla Lockwood. But please call me Cami.” She offered a scratched, dirty hand.
Numbly, he took it. It felt cool and soft in his grip. And real. She was definitely real. “Garrett. Garrett Bravo.”
“Good to meet you.” A frown tightened the skin between her eyes. “You okay, Garrett? You look a little pale.”
He looked pale? “How will I call you an ambulance when my phone doesn’t work?”
“You won’t.” She reached up, clasped his shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “It’s fine, really. I don’t need a doctor.”
“But—”
“Take my word for it, I would know. You think this looks bad?” She indicated her body with graceful sweeps of both hands. “I’ve been through worse. Lots worse—and who’s this?” She dropped to a crouch, her giant dress belling out around her, and held out a hand to his dog. Munch made a questioning sound. “Come on, sweetie pie,” she coaxed. When Garrett made no objections, Munch let out a happy little bark and scuttled right over. “Oh, aren’t you the cutest boy?” She scratched his ears, rubbed his spotted coat—and glanced up at Garrett with a beaming smile. “Beautiful dog. Such pretty markings.” Garrett dipped to her level, took her arm and pulled her to her feet again. “Hey!” She tried to jerk free. “Ease up.”
“We need to get you down the mountain.”
“No, we don’t.”
Ignoring her protests, he started pulling her toward his Jeep Wrangler Rubicon on the far side of the cabin.
“Garrett. Stop, I mean it.” She dug in her heels.
“Camilla, come on now.”
“I said, call me Cami. And no. Just no. I’m not going anywhere.” As she whipped her arm free of his grasp, he debated the advisability of scooping her up and carrying her bodily to the Jeep. But even with all the scratches and bruises, she seemed to have a lot of fight left in her. And say he did manage to get her over there and into the SUV. How would he convince her to stay put while he ran into the cabin for the keys?
Maybe he could reason with her. “You need a doctor. I only want to take you down the mountain to Justice Creek General.”
“No means no, Garrett.” She braced her hands on her hips and narrowed her one working eye to a slit. “And I have clearly said no.”
So much for reason. “Will you at least sit down? Rest for a minute?”
She flipped that same tangled hank of hair off her forehead. “Sure.”
Before she could change her mind, he caught her elbow and dragged her over to his chair. “Here. Sit.” She dropped to the chair with a large huff of breath, her big dress poofing out as she landed, then quickly deflating. Slowly and gently, he explained, “Relax, okay? I’m just going to go into the cabin and get the first aid kit.”
“First aid can wait.”
“But—”
“Please, Garrett.” She picked a twig from her hair and tossed it over her shoulder. “I need water. My tongue’s just a dried-up old piece of leather in my mouth, you know?”
That tongue of hers seemed to be working pretty well to him. But yeah. Water. He could do that. “Stay right there?”
“I won’t move a muscle.” Munch, always a sucker for a pretty girl, sidled close and plunked down beside the chair. For the dog, she had a tender smile. “Hey, honey.” She stroked his head. “What’s his name?”
“Munch.”
“Cute,” she said. And Garrett just stood there, staring down at her as she petted his dog. Finally, she glanced up at him again and asked hopefully, “Water?”
“Right.” Against his better judgment, he left her alone with only Munch to look after her as he ran for the cabin. At the door, he paused with his hand on the knob. What if she took off?
Well, what if she did? If she insisted on wandering Moosejaw Mountain in the dark barefoot in her torn-up wedding dress, far be it from him to try to stop her.
He went in, filled a tall insulated bottle with water, grabbed the dish towel and ran back out.
She was still there. “You’re a lifesaver,” she said when he handed her the bottle.
He flipped open the cooler, grabbed a handful of ice and wrapped it in the towel. “For your eye.”
She took a long drink and then let out a happy sigh. “Thank you.” Only then did she accept the ice. Pressing it gingerly to her bad eye, she frowned. “Don’t tell me I stole your only chair.” She started to rise.
“Relax.” He patted the air between them until she dropped back into the seat. “I’ve got a spare.” He grabbed the extra camp chair from where he’d left it leaning against a tree, snapped it open and set it down on the other side of the cooler from her.
Now what?
Awkward seconds struggled by as they just sat there. She sipped her water and iced her eye and he tried to decide what he should do next.
Maybe she needed food. “Are you hungry, Cami?”
She gave a long sigh. “Starved.”
He could help with that at least. “How about a hot dog?”
She rewarded him with a radiant smile. “A hot dog would really hit the spot about now.”
* * *
A half an hour later, the beat-up bride had drunk two bottles of water and accepted three hot dogs, each of which she’d shared with Munch. The dog remained stretched out beside her. Periodically, he would lift his head from his paws to gaze up at her adoringly.
Garrett still felt bad that he hadn’t convinced her to let him drive her to the hospital. She could have at least allowed him to get out the first aid kit and sterilize a few of those scratches.
