Runaway Page 16

  The literal worst.

  In fact, I hadn't even texted or explained myself. I could only expect a half-raged-filled woman and all the glares that came with such a situation. Inwardly, I groaned. How did I always botch this up?

  This exact scenario had eventually broken all other women in the past.

  With a sharp intake of breath, I forced myself to have a bit more courage. Whether she'd be pissed or not, putting it off longer would only make it worse.

  My concern came to a fast halt when I stepped back into the house, eager to clap my eyes on her regardless. She stood with her back to me, wearing a pair of yoga pants with lacy flowers, an over-sized white t-shirt, and her hair in a messy bun at the top of her head. Her zip-up hoodie was old, but well-loved, and pushed up past her elbows. A cold draft of air ushered me inside. She whirled around, a scrub brush in her hand and a coffee mug in the other, then broke into a wide smile.

  “You're back.”

  No chastisement. No flood of questions. No annoyed dart of her eyes. Stella just smiled at me.

  “Hi.” I shut the door and swallowed. “Everything good?”

  She nodded, then motioned to the coffee table with a nod. “Great. Just taking a quick break before we get back to it. Megan and Justin are getting some snacks.”

  A plethora of candy wrappers, pop cans, drinks, and other various food gems littered my coffee table, along with several decks of cards. Ah, the Bailey family tournament. Megan had already baptized Stella into the family, and stupid me missed it because of my lack of curbing ideas.

  “Thought I'd clean these before they stained.” She held up the coffee mug. “Your sister is hysterical, by the way. And I'm in love with the two of them. If they were famous, there'd be hashtags about them, you know? They're both so . . . “

  “Arrogant?”

  “Amazing.”

  I shook my head, unable to believe this. The last thing I wanted to talk about was my sister and her boyfriend. “You're not angry with me?” I asked.

  “Angry?”

  I cleared my throat and gestured to the door. “I've been gone for so long and—”

  “Oh! Yeah. Can't wait to hear it. You must have had an awesome idea.”

  She waited, clearly eager, as if she wanted me to say it right now. My mind took a few moments to reorient to this alien situation. Slowly, the tension bled out of my shoulders. Can't wait? I wanted to repeat in utter disbelief. You . . .

  Instead of speaking, my brain took over again. In two quick strides, I'd crossed the space between us. The next thing I knew, her body was pressed against mine, her face was in my palms, and her lips locked with mine. She tilted back over the sink from the force of my descent, but I gathered her up in my arms and pulled her back into me. There wasn't a breath that could have fit between us. Not space. Not air.

  Nothing.

  What must have been an eternity later, she pulled away with a little gasp.

  “Wow.”

  She blinked. The scrub brush and coffee mug were still in her hands. They'd sloshed the back of my shirt. Water ran halfway down my back, but I didn't care. I captured her for one last, long, lingering kiss and forced myself to step back. To pull myself back together, I turned away and ran a hand through my hair.

  Her rumpled grin deepened.

  “Wow,” I repeated quietly. Inside me, the knot that had choked my stomach slowly fell apart.

  While she chuckled quietly to herself, I ripped the wet shirt off, balled it up, and threw it in the washer. She could laugh about this, but I couldn't. No, Stella had rocked me. Suckerpunch to the kidney so strong it rattled my metaphorical teeth. Oh, yeah. She had to be independent, beautiful, and accepting.

  The nerve.

  She also had to be stalked by a total creeper that I'd rip apart at the first opportunity.

  “If you're looking to gain a bit of control over that fiery passion I love so much,” she said wryly, “I hardly think you taking off your shirt is going to help.”

  I'd stopped to stare at her. Even with half the cabin between us now, I still felt like I didn't have enough space to stop me from taking this too far.

  Unbidden, Joshua’s latest appearance sprang back to my mind. My nostrils flared as I noted her fuzzy boots that hid stockinged feet, then marveled at the absurd normalcy of every second that had just passed. Of course, it felt so right that she stood here, looking adorably rumpled and bright. Her expression faltered for a second.

  “Mark? You okay?”

  I grabbed another shirt, yanked it on, and returned to her side. This time, I leaned both my hands on the table and gripped the sides so I wouldn't be tempted to touch her again. I hadn't planned on telling her about Joshua. She didn't need to be more stressed out, but now that she stood before me, I knew she could take it. She'd want to know.

  I'd want to know.

  Sober now, she dropped the mug and brush back into the sink, but she didn't move closer. Instead, she swallowed.

  “Joshua?” she asked.

  I met her gaze. “He's in town, I think.”

  To her credit, she only paled. There was no gasp of shock or cry of terror. Something like resignation followed.

  “Why do you think that?”

  With calm precision, I told her everything that had happened and everything that my Dad had said. By the time I finished, she'd lowered into one of the chairs and stared at the top of the table. For a long pause after I fell silent, she simply blinked.

  “You'll sleep in this cabin with me,” I said as I paced. “There's no going back out to that other one. And I swear I can follow boundaries, I swear I won't make out with you every single minute even though I want to do that much and more. But I want to be close. I'm sure Justin will agree, but we'll have Atticus in here with us. Atty will love it,” I added quietly.

  An-almost twitch of her lips rose and disappeared.

  “We'll make sure that either Justin or I are with you all the time. That'll give this time to blow over. As soon as the feds finish their investigation, Joshua will be a goner and you can get back to normal life with me.”

  Unable to bear her silence, I sat across from her. Her hands were in her lap or I would have grabbed one. Instead, several burdened moments passed before she shook herself from her thoughts and met my questioning gaze.

  “It doesn't seem fair to ask all this of you,” she said quietly, but before I could interrupt she continued. “But I'm going to ask all this of you.”

  She reached out with a hand and I grabbed it.

  “Because you're the only person I feel safe with. So thank you. Thank you for . . . caring.”

  A burden of worry instantly lifted off of me. She wouldn't fight me on this. Tucked in the back of my mind was the terror that she'd leave to keep me safe, but she meant what she said.

  I opened a hand. She put hers in it, then I yanked her off the chair and onto my lap. She straddled me, her fingers toying with the soft hairs along my neck. Then she pressed her forehead to mine and closed her eyes.

  “I'm a little scared,” she whispered quietly.

  “I know.” I pressed a kiss to her forehead and ran a thumb over her cheekbone. “But I'll keep you safe. We'll get through this together, one day at a time. Okay?”

  “I know,” she murmured. “I trust us to save each other.”

  With that, she kissed me again, and the world as I once knew it collapsed around me like a dying star. All that lay before me now, Adventura or not, was Stella Marie. The forest could burn down, the mountain lion could come, or a blizzard of epic proportions could wipe us out for all that I cared.

  Stella was all that mattered.

  23

  Stella

  The next morning, a tangle of sunlight woke me.

  I blinked awake, my eyelids heavy from the late night and an unholy amount of sugar. Megan had brought a few pseudo-healthy-but-delicious treats that she'd nabbed from JJ and Lizbeth after visiting them on her way here. But after Mark returned home, sources of ca
ndy I didn't know existed appeared out of nowhere.

  Apparently, the Bailey card game was a local legend. Thankfully, I hadn't been half bad at it. When my finesse with numbers was paired with Mark's natural speed, we made a natural team. In many ways, I was quietly realizing.

  A twitch of movement near my neck made me smile and brought me all the way out of my sleepy stupor.

  Mark lay on his back, eyes closed with sooty, black eyelashes thick against his cheek. His hair was mussed and his shirt halfway up his torso, but he looked little-boy adorable. At some point in the night he'd come up, but I couldn't remember when. I'd felt his heat curl up at my back and I'd fallen back to sleep an instant later.

  With no ideas or words streaming from his mouth, I stared at him, grateful for a chance to study him. A recollection of what he said about Joshua came with it. To my surprise, the choking fear didn't follow. There was uncertainty, of course, but with Mark at my side and the light of day surrounding me, it didn't feel so bleak.

  Besides, I wasn't alone and I wasn't paranoid. Joshua was a real threat, and I could embrace that now that Mark had the same heightened sense of uncertainty and wariness. He'd never once thought I made this all up, but now I could see he felt it too. He understood just how out of normal depths this entire situation had become. That validation felt like a gift.

  "You," he mumbled, his voice a deep burr, "are so creepy."

  Grinning I set my chin on my folded hands. "Why?" I asked. "Because I'm staring at you while you sleep?"

  He stirred but still didn't open his eyes.

  "Yes."

  "It's the only time you're not talking."

  He cracked a grin and my heart melted a little more. Moving fast, he wrapped his arms around me, flipped me on my back, and trapped me beneath him. His beard tickled my neck as he nuzzled into me. The weight of his body and the warmth of his skin was the only reassurance I needed that I was in safe hands.

  "I have to get out of this bed," he growled, "before I kiss you while I have morning breath. But just know that I want to."

  With a long kiss to my cheek, and the burn of his lingering breath on my neck, he disappeared off the bed. I laughed outright when he landed on the floor in an ungracious thunk and a string of muttered curses followed.

  "Mountain man indeed," I murmured, then doubled over laughing again when he flipped me the bird.

  Half an hour later, Mark placed a hand on the small of my back and spun me around. We'd just finished a quick breakfast with Megan and Justin, who left to change, when Mark pulled me back into his arms. I went willingly, wishing we could stay all day like that.

  "Yes?" I drawled.

  He grinned. "I have an idea."

  "It's clear by that gleam in your eyes, yes."

  "Then I won't disappoint you. There's a snow storm coming up this weekend. It's supposed to drop a foot here in the mountains. Which means it'll probably drop a crud more. They're anticipating ice on the roads because it's supposed to be warm the days before the storm. Rain + freezing temps = ice. So the highway may be closed for a bit. I want to get supplies."

  "Okay," I drawled.

  He tightened his hold on my waist. The edges of his eyes crinkled a little, as if with concern. "Come with me into town. We'll get you out before we hunker in for a while."

  "But . . ."

  "I know. Joshua was likely in Pineville yesterday, but we're going to Jackson City. And if that creeper is watching us, so what? What will he figure out that he probably hasn't already? That you're with me? That I'll beat the hell out of him if he even looks at you?"

  His arms clenched, so I put a hand on his right bicep. He relaxed and looked adorably sheepish. The color had heightened on his cheeks.

  "Sorry," he mumbled like a guilty child. His gaze dropped. "I just . . . I don't think you should have to hole up here, afraid for your life, when I'm with you. You know I'll keep you safe."

  The idea of Mark against Joshua was an interesting one. Joshua wasn't a wimp, by any stretch of the imagination, but he did lack Mark's brawn. More than that, Mark had a force of willpower the size of a bull and the passion to drive someone all the way to the end of their life. His ability to protect me from Joshua wasn't in question.

  The wisdom of venturing into the world to taunt Joshua, however, was. Even if Mark could beat Joshua, did I want to take that chance?

  Not at all.

  "My dad was right," he continued, as if he could see the war in my gaze. "Joshua hasn't made a move yet that we can act on and he may not. So why put you through more trauma and hiding? Besides, I'll be with you the whole time. Justin and Atticus will stay here while we're gone."

  The situation with Joshua didn't seem as terrifying in the light of day as it always did at night, nor when Mark wasn't with me. But it seemed . . . reckless to go out into public notwithstanding.

  However, the lure of civilization did call. Visiting with Meg and Justin had been restorative, but it would be nice to see people again. Even if I didn't talk with those people, there was a sort of community power that came from being around others. The noise, energy, and action. I craved just a bit more normal chaos for a while.

  Megan was planning on just one more night here anyway before she went to stay with her Mom for a night. Mark and I would have plenty of time to figure out a way to save Adventura. And possibly kiss way too much.

  Which idea I liked very much.

  "Okay."

  He'd opened his mouth to say something else, but snapped it closed. Startled, he blinked several times. I smiled.

  "I'll go," I said. "I'm not super comfortable with it, but I also think that you're right. Joshua probably wants to have some power over me. To make me feel afraid. To . . . live small. If you will be there with me, I'll go. And thankfully, because as much as I love your house, these walls do kind of get small. Plus, I'm having a big craving for Mexican food."

  Mark grinned, gave me a quick kiss, and then another, and finally took three steps back with a charming little wink.

  "Then let's go! We have delicious burritos and toilet paper to buy."

  While Mark made obnoxious motorcycle noises and steered a cart around a grocery store in Jackson City, I picked a card for grandma's upcoming birthday and made a mental tally of what we had left to buy. Not to mention the fact that Mark had exactly zero dollars in his accounts.

  I knew because I checked them daily.

  The $500 that I'd originally given him lay in my pocket, and I silently tried to conspire a way to get him away from the checkout line so I could pay. We still had no second booking—not to mention the massive incoming storm that would surely detour tourists—to fall back on.

  "Chocolate or caramel?" I asked.

  He scoffed. "Always caramel."

  "Fine. Try this one on for size: Cheery Bees cereal or the generic equivalent?"

  "Generic." He tossed a small carton of OJ into the basket. "Always generic. C'mon, Stell. You're my accountant. Aren't you the one holding me to a budget?"

  I laughed, eager to find more fodder for questions. Grocery shopping with Mark had been enlightening, to say the least.

  "Sparkling water or plain?" I asked next.

  "Chocolate milk."

  "Not an option!"

  "Always an option," he whispered dramatically. For every piece of junk food he put in the cart, I managed to squeeze in something with healthy value. The nasty sugar wafers, however, he just wouldn't part with no matter what I promised to give him instead, which was saying something.

  His phone rang. The word Mom flashed across the screen with the call. My gut clenched from the unexpected surprise. Sara, his mother, had been a frequent topic of conversation between Megan and Mark the past evening. She was mentioned here and there, mostly with warmth, but sometimes the normal annoyance that comes with children and siblings. Mark was, clearly, close to her on several levels. The idea of meeting her caused me nerves, right up there with losing my job and former boss unleashed.

  Meeting t
he Mom was a big deal. In an involved family like Mark's, it was probably even bigger.

  "Ma!" he called. "Where are you? We're in aisle twelve already."

  I tilted my head to the side. What did he just say?

  Mark shoved the cart to the side of the aisle, then turned around, the phone still pressed to his ear, and waved an arm. A woman at the other end lifted her hand. He grinned and hung up, shoving the phone into his pocket.

  "You told your Mom we were at the grocery store?" I whispered.

  "Oh yeah," he said, as if this was totally normal. "She lives and works up here. She meets me at my errands all the time."

  "Seriously?"

  He shrugged. "Why not? Then we get to see each other."

  Seconds later, a woman uncannily like Megan collided with him. He wrapped her in a big bear hug that would have made me jealous had it been for anyone else. She had dark hair in a short ponytail, and, from what I could see, kind eyes. When she pulled away, those eyes danced with amusement.

  "You must be Stella," she said with a broad grin. "The girl that has made my son so happy."

  Heat flared to my cheeks as she yanked me into a hug. Doggone it, but that sounded both hilarious and ominous at the same time. Mark rolled his eyes and mouthed, "Sorry. So dramatic."

  As if he had so much room to talk.

  But, to my astonishment, he didn't try to soften or take back what his mother had said. Then again, Mark wasn't the kind of guy to get embarrassed.

  Sara pulled away and held me at arm's length. A maternal warmth emanated from her, and for just a moment, I wanted to curl up in her arms and ask her to play with my hair. She squeezed my arms, unapologetically excited to see me, and said, "Megan called me last night and gushed over you. Megan doesn't gush, so take it as the highest compliment. It's been a while since there's been any report of a woman in Mark's life to stay. I had to come over to meet you."

  Like it wasn't a big deal that his family had been speaking about me, and in such warm terms. That his mom had stopped by the bread aisle, for heaven's sake, just to meet me in a quick whirlwind.