The Cowboy's Runaway Bride Read online

  No one was.

  So what was she doing?

  When he’d noticed the strange car parked in the Juliette Lowell’s driveway as he’d headed home from the stables, Ethan decided to investigate.

  Juliette was in San Antonio facilitating one of those fancy weddings people paid her good money to plan. That was why Ethan had decided to stop and investigate.

  His neighbor kept him apprised of her travel schedule and that’s why he knew damn good and well no one was supposed to be in this house tonight.

  “I’ll ask you again,” he said, waiting to hear what she said before he dialed the sheriff. “You want to tell me what you’re doing in here, sis?”

  The woman stared back at him silently. Those huge eyes of hers—were they blue or green?—still locked with his.

  “No?” he asked. “Okay. Maybe you’d rather talk to the cops?”

  That broke her silence. “No, don’t call the police. Please.”

  Did she have an accent? He couldn’t tell. Might just be nerves.

  She held up her hands surrender-style.

  “Well, then you’d better start talking—and fast. Are you alone?”

  Aw, hell. He was such an idiot. She could have accomplices. They might already be in the house. She could’ve been the lookout. Albeit, a noisy one. But still...

  Ethan glanced in the mirror, which provided a side view into the dim hallway, and listened hard, trying to detect sound or movement, anything that indicated they weren’t alone.

  He didn’t hear a thing.

  Yeah, wouldn’t it be just like him to meet his maker after being distracted by a pretty face. It wouldn’t be the first time. Well, figuratively, anyway.

  As a safeguard, he placed the call to 911.

  “No! Please don’t. My name is Chelsea—Chelsea Allen. I’m here to visit my friend, Juliette Lowell. Please don’t call the police. I can assure you that’s not necessary. Just call Juliette. She’ll tell you I’m welcome here. Please. Hang up. We don’t need to involve the officials.”

  This time there was no trace of an accent in her voice. He must’ve imagined it before. Because now her words were crisp and enunciated. And panicked.

  And she was so pretty.

  Oh, for the love of God almighty...

  She did know Juliette’s name. Which didn’t automatically guarantee that she was a friend. She might have known the house would be empty tonight and the place would be a good target.

  Juliette’s business was just starting to take off. She was even getting some press about it. Who knew what kind of riffraff news of her success might attract? Though Chelsea Allen didn’t look like riffraff.

  “Please hang up,” she pleaded again.

  Ethan shook his head and gestured to the window behind her. “When you visit friends, do you always enter through the bathroom?”

  Her eyes flashed before she glanced over her shoulder in the direction he pointed. “Of course not. It’s just that...”

  A frustrated little growl gobbled up the rest of her words. Ethan half expected her to stamp her foot or to turn around and scale the wall in an attempt to leave the way she came in.

  But instead, she put her hands on her hips and apparently tried to turn the tables on him. “If Juliette is not at home, what business do you have in her house? Who are you?”

  He frowned at her tone. “I’m the one who’s asking the questions here, and as soon as the sheriff arrives, he will take over for me.”

  “No! I’m sorry. Please hang up. I mean, you do realize that calling emergency services could keep them from responding to a true emergency, don’t you? Just call Juliette from your cell. If you’re in her house you should have her number. Right? She will tell you that we’re friends and that I’m absolutely welcome here.”

  Ethan hesitated. She had a point. But before he could disconnect, the operator picked up.

  “This is 911. What is your emergency?”

  Chapter Two

  “Hey, Joyce, it’s Ethan Campbell,” he said. “False alarm on that 911.”

  Chelsea finally drew in a breath after she heard him retract the police call. Ethan Campbell. So that was his name. Chelsea racked her brain trying to recall if she’d ever heard Juliette mention him. Campbell... Sounded familiar. But the way he was glaring at her as he talked to the sheriff’s dispatcher addled her mind and made it difficult to remember her own name, much less her college friend’s list of boyfriends past.

  “Nope. Everything’s under control, but hang tight. I’ll call you back if the situation changes.”

  Pinned by his midnight blue gaze, she stood frozen, weighing her options. At least she had enough sense to realize most of the choices sponsored by the fight-or-flight adrenaline rush weren’t very practical...or smart—like grabbing the phone out of the guy’s hand and tossing it into the toilet or scaling the wall and going out the way she’d come in.

  Both plans spelled disaster.

  If she did the grab and flush, Ethan Campbell would probably lock her in the bathroom and call the sheriff from Juliette’s landline. The last thing she needed was for the police to show up. Because where the police went, media usually followed.

  Of course, if he locked her in the bath, she could climb back out the window. But she wasn’t a gymnast or a contortionist. So she wouldn’t be very fast. She wasn’t even remotely athletic. It had taken forever and every ounce of strength she’d possessed to hoist herself up and climb in the window. Her muscles were still shaky after being taxed the first time. She’d be deluding herself if she thought she was capable of using that route for a speedy and successful getaway.

  Bloody hell, if she did escape, where would she go?

  A chase would ensue; the cops would be on her heels.

  Maybe she could simply push past Ethan and make a run out the front door. That seemed like the least shady option. But there was no getting around him. He was a big guy. Being tackled and held by those rugby-player arms and pinned by those shoulders might have been quite nice under other circumstances. But right now his considerable bulk filled the doorway, blocking the only other viable exit, eliminating that option.

  “Yeah, I thought I’d caught the burglar at the Lowell place,” he drawled into the phone.

  Burglar? Did she really look like someone who sneaked into homes and robbed people?

  “Turns out it’s a woman claiming to be a friend of Juliette’s. Sit tight. I’m going to call her to confirm...No. I don’t need backup. I got this.”

  Finally, they were getting somewhere.

  He seemed to be quite familiar with her friend. Against her better judgment, Chelsea wondered why Juliette hadn’t talked about this Ethan Campbell. He was tall and rugged and handsome—if you liked big, brooding, broad-shouldered men with Texas drawls.

  And who in her right mind wouldn’t find a guy like him attractive?

  He’d be even better if he wasn’t holding her hostage.

  She reminded herself of that, and the fact that he seemed to be pretty well connected to the local authorities, which could be a problem. A big problem if he pressed her for personal information. That would mean she’d need to leave again because she couldn’t take the chance of word getting out and Bertie tracking her here. Celebration was too small of a town to hide from a bloodhound like him. She was running out of options of where to go. Unless she wanted to hole up someplace alone. If she blew it here, it meant she’d have to go home.

  That wasn’t an option. At least not right now.

  “If her story doesn’t check out, I’ll call you back and have you send the sheriff out.”

  Ethan was nodding at something the dispatcher was saying on the other end of the line.

  “Joyce...” More talking. More nodding. “No. Joyce...It’s fine...”


  “Yes, I’m sure...No, I don’t see anyone else with her. She’s alone.” He turned his gaze back on Chelsea. “Are you alone?”

  Chelsea nodded and instantly regretted it. Maybe she shouldn’t have said that. But if she hadn’t they surely would’ve dispatched the authorities.

  “Her car’s out in the driveway...No. I didn’t get the license number. It was dark when I got here. I wanted to make sure the perimeter was secured first.”

  Was the guy a wannabe cop or something?

  More listening. More nodding. Chelsea strained to see if she could hear what the person on the other end of the line was saying, but all she could discern was a low hum of an indistinct feminine voice.

  Ethan backed into the hallway and flicked on the overhead light. Now Chelsea could see a collage of black-and-white photographs housed in a multipaned black frame hanging on the wall behind him. One of the pictures was from Juliette’s days at St. Andrew’s, and as if by some miracle, there was a shot of her and Juliette and a group of their schoolmates huddled together at a Sussex rugby match.

  “Good idea,” he snarled into the phone. He turned to Chelsea and held out his hand. “Give me your cell.”

  “Why do you want my cell phone?” she asked.

  Still pressing his phone to one ear, Ethan gestured with his free hand. “Phone.”

  Chelsea pointed to the photo behind him. Ethan squinted at her and shook his head.

  “Look at the photograph behind you,” she said, nodding in that direction.

  When Ethan didn’t immediately turn around, Chelsea said, “There’s a photograph of Juliette and me on the wall over your right shoulder. If you’ll simply turn around, you’ll see I’m telling the truth.”

  With one last wary glance at Chelsea, Ethan cast a quick look behind him. He did a double take. “Hold on a sec, Joyce. Actually, I’ll call you back if I need you.”

  After he disconnected the call, he said, “If you know Juliette so well, why did you break in?”

  “She was supposed to leave me a key, but I couldn’t find it.”

  He squinted at her. “Where was she supposed to leave it?”

  “Under the doormat or someplace. She wasn’t specific, and, as I said, I couldn’t find it. That’s when I saw the open window—”

  Ethan held up his hand, silencing her.

  “Give me your cell phone.”

  “I don’t have it on my person at the moment.”

  His mouth twisted in a dubious expression and he grunted. “On your person? I’ve been giving you the benefit of the doubt. If you don’t want to cooperate, I can call Joyce back and we can sort out what’s what down at the station.”

  He held out his hand again, this time moving his fingers in a give-it-to-me gesture.

  “It’s outside on the back porch in one of my sandals.” Now he was starting to irritate her. “I’m certainly not hiding it.” She ran her hands down the silhouette of her body to emphasize that she was wearing a T-shirt and a rather snug skirt that didn’t leave room for secret pockets.

  When she realized that Ethan Campbell’s gaze was meandering the same path her own hands had traced, she regretted issuing the invitation.

  She cleared her throat and crossed her arms over the front of her body. “I tried to call Juliette, but she didn’t answer. I left a message and then I saw the open window. I took off my sandals and set down my phone and car key before I came in through the window. If you’ll check outside, you’ll find everything.”

  She shrugged a jerky little motion to indicate her annoyance.

  “Wouldn’t it be better to just call Juliette’s number from your own phone, anyway? I’m surprised you’re not afraid that I might call one of my henchmen to come and break me out of here.”

  His brow shot up and she realized she’d probably said the wrong thing.

  “You have henchmen?”

  “That was supposed to be a joke.”

  “How about some identification?” he said, obviously not amused.

  Great. Just great. If he saw the name on her ID, the cat could very possibly be out of the bag. Especially if he called the police back and gave her name to the sheriff. If they ran her ID through one of those fancy contraptions that compiled reports on people’s backgrounds, she might as well leave right now.

  “It’s in my purse, which is in the car. I’m happy to go get it.”

  “Nice try,” he said. “If I march you outside to get it, there’s a chance you’ll run. If I leave you alone to go look for it myself, you’ll leave.”

  He lifted his phone and started pressing numbers.

  “No, don’t. Please don’t—”

  “I’m calling Juliette.”

  She let out her breath on a sigh. “I thought you were calling 911 again.”

  He didn’t respond. Instead, he pressed the phone to his ear. She must’ve answered on the first couple of rings.

  “Juliette, Ethan Campbell—”

  He listened for a moment.

  “Sorry to bother you—”

  He nodded, opened his mouth to say something and closed it again.

  Juliette always had been a talker. It was amusing to watch this tall, gruff, take-charge cowboy be silenced by her. How long would it take before he could get a word in?

  If anyone else had been there she’d have wagered with them.

  Alas, she was alone and had to enjoy the private audience to this amusing show. When Juliette got back into town, Chelsea fully intended to hug her friend just for being her—and, well, okay, for making Ethan Campbell stammer as he tried to get a voice-hold in the conversation.

  “Juliette—” he said. “Juliette—Juliette. Juliette—”

  He held the phone away from his ear for a moment and looked up at the ceiling. Chelsea could hear her friend babbling on even though she couldn’t tell exactly what she was saying.

  Finally, Chelsea did the only thing she could. “Juliette, it’s Chelsea!” she called in the loudest voice she could muster. “It’s Chelsea Allen. Please tell this man you know me and I’m welcome in your home.”

  Even though Chelsea hadn’t been able to understand exactly what Juliette had been talking about a moment ago, she could hear the dramatic silence on the line now and knew Juliette had heard her. She could only pray that Chelsea remembered the code.

  Chelsea Allen was the name she’d used back in their university days when she wanted to lay low. Rather than unloading her full name, Lady Chelsea Ashford Alden, which always made people change. They treated humble, unassuming Chelsea Allen like a regular person. Not like the sister of a famous fashion designer or someone whose brother was likely to be the next prime minister. Chelsea Allen was a nobody, and nobody wanted anything from her. Sometimes it was just so much easier to keep things simple. It had been several years since she and Juliette had been out together and she’d played the Chelsea Allen card, but surely Juliette would remember. Of course she would.

  Frowning even more pronounced than when he’d first cornered her, Ethan put the phone back to his ear. “Juliette, do you know a woman named Chelsea Allen?”

  Juliette was still talking. Ethan’s gaze flicked to Chelsea. As he listened his frown faded to a scowl.

  “Yes. She’s right here. Standing in your hall bathroom. Yep...Sure...Yeah. Right here in your bathtub, to be exact...No, she’s not taking a bath...I caught her coming in through the shower window...It’s a long story...No, she’s fully clothed...Juliette, listen to me. All I need to know is whether or not she’s a friend of yours.”

  Chelsea couldn’t help it. She laughed out loud.

  Buggers, she was still in the bathtub. She steadied herself with one hand on the wall and stepped out of the tub onto the black-and-white-tile floor.

  A moment later Ethan held out the phone
to Chelsea. “Juliette wants to talk to you.”

  She couldn’t resist a smug smile as she took the phone from him.

  “Jules? Hi!”

  The sound of Juliette’s warm laughter emanated across the line. “Chelsea, oh, no! Oh, my gosh. I’m so sorry. I was supposed to leave a key for you. I completely forgot to set it out before I left. Obviously, I forgot to close the bathroom window, too.”

  “Jules, it’s okay. Will you tell Deputy Dawg to stand down, please?”

  “You always did know how to make an entrance.”

  “I know, right? But for future reference, I’d rather use the front door than an open window. Scaling walls isn’t my best sport. Please tell Ethan it’s okay for me to be here. He’s about ready to have me hauled off to jail.”

  With the phone pressed up to her ear, she brushed past him because she was starting to feel a bit claustrophobic in the bathroom. As she made her exit, her shoulder grazed Ethan’s very solid chest. If she hadn’t found the guy so annoying, she might’ve found the sheer masculine bulk of him quite sexy.

  “Oh, Ethan’s bark is definitely worse than his bite. He’s a warm and cuddly teddy bear once you get to know him.”

  Warm and cuddly? More like ripped and solid as steel.

  “And you’re speaking from experience, I presume?”

  Juliette snorted. “Um, no. I’ll tell you all about him later. For now, give him the phone and I’ll tell him you’re welcome to be there. Make yourself at home. Help yourself to anything. There’s tea in the cupboard by the stove and I just froze the rest of a homemade lasagna. I’ll be home tomorrow afternoon. We certainly have a lot to talk about.”

  Chelsea glanced at Ethan, who was not even trying to pretend he wasn’t listening. There was no way she could tell Juliette that escaping from the mess that had become her life was going to be a lot harder than she thought. She’d already been forced into hiding, and on day one of hiding in Celebration, Texas, she’d nearly had a run-in with the authorities.