Her Wildest Wedding Dreams - Celeste Hamilton Mills & Boon Cherish

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closed his eyes for a moment, trying not to think about that bruise on her arm or her tears when she said she’d been hurt by her father. God knew, he understood that kind of pain. He just wished his dear mother had not worked so hard to instill a sense of honor in him. Finally he let out a long breath, eased the truck into drive and leaned out the window, calling, “Hey, come here.”

      She hurried up to the window. The hope mingling with fear on her face was more than he could stand.

      “All right,” he muttered. “I’ve got this terrible feeling that I’m going to regret this, but here’s what we’re going to do. First, you get in the truck.”

      She frowned, as if she didn’t understand him.

      “Get in the truck, and at the next town you can catch a bus somewhere.” She gave him a blank look. “You do want to get on a bus or something, don’t you? There was some destination in mind when you set out on this little trip?”

      Though she nodded, her expression gave her away.

      “She has no idea where she’s going,” he muttered as she came around to the passenger side. “No clue. Just her and that damn dog, tearing off like Dorothy and Toto on the yellow brick road.”

      “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she gushed as she climbed in beside him. “I was willing to walk, but this will be so much quicker and easier.”

      The dog jumped onto the seat, then leaped up and licked Noah’s cheek.

      He groaned. The dog barked and tried for a second lick.

      “Just keep the mutt under control,” Noah ordered.

      She pulled the dog onto her lap. “Her name’s Puddin’.”

      “And your name?”

      She hesitated. Briefly. But long enough for Noah to figure she was lying. “Libby. Libby Kay.”

      “I’m Noah,” he said, offering a handshake. The hand she placed in his was soft as silk, with nails finely manicured. Not exactly the hands of a working man’s daughter.

      “And your last name?” she prompted.

      “Gullible as hell,” Noah murmured as he pulled back onto the road. “Just call me gullible as hell.”

      Chapter Two

      “You need to eat.”

      Noah’s comment penetrated Olivia’s nervous preoccupation with the other diners in the small restaurant where they had stopped for lunch.

      “Eat,” he instructed, as he had done periodically since the waitress had placed the meat loaf-and-three-vegetable special in front of her.

      Olivia knew she should be hungry enough to clean her plate, but who could think about food when at any moment a car of “suits” could drive up. She hadn’t wanted to stop at all, but Noah had insisted.

      She shot a nervous glance outside, where Puddin’ waited in a truck cab cooled by a lowered window. Noah had also insisted the diner wouldn’t welcome a dog, even a small one. Olivia wanted to wait in the truck with her pet, but Noah would have none of that, either. She was discovering her driver/rescuer was one bossy individual.

      “How y’all doin’?” The hippy, flirtatious waitress sidled up to their table, as she had done at least a half dozen times. Her black-lacquered eyelashes fluttered in Noah’s direction.

      He grinned and held out his coffee cup. “Sure could use a refill.”

      She obliged with a simper that set Olivia’s teeth on edge.

      “You through, honey?” The waitress nodded at Olivia’s plate.

      “She’s still working on it,” Noah replied in his irritatingly superior tone.

      She set her fork down. “Actually, I am finished.”

      Without asking, Noah ordered two pieces of coconut cream pie. Olivia protested. He offered her a quelling glance.

      The waitress tittered and retreated, ample backside swaying in her pink gingham uniform.

      Olivia sighed her frustration. “We really shouldn’t leave Puddin’ out there like this.”

      “The dog is fine. I’m not in the business of cruelty to animals.”

      “But still—”

      “A person of limited means ought not to waste a free meal.”

      “I can pay for my own food,” Olivia protested.

      Noah looked skeptical as he lifted his mug. “Better save your money for later, when no one might be offering to feed you.” He savored a long sip of coffee. “Just out of curiosity, how much money do you have?”

      “Enough,” was Olivia’s evasive reply. In the two hours since he had agreed to take her to a bus station, Noah had done his best to dig information out of her. Where was she going? Did she have relatives she could call? How was she going to support herself? Of course, Olivia had told him nothing. Besides resenting his authoritative, prying manner, she didn’t know the answer.

      She had a vague notion about heading for Chicago. Just after college, she had spent part of one summer in a program at Chicago’s Art Institute. A “suit” had been enrolled in the class, as well, to watch over her at all times, but still she had managed to enjoy the experience. She had made some contacts that summer that her father might not think to check right away. Maybe one of those acquaintances could help her land a job. Teaching perhaps. Working with children. She planned to take whatever job she could find. She had a first-class education. Surely that would count for something.

      It had better. She had exactly $448.92 in her pocket, money scrounged from various handbags in her closet. A pair of diamond stud earrings and an opal ring were also in her tote bag.

      She had left her engagement ring on her nightstand, and the rest of her jewelry had been locked in a safe. She didn’t feel right about taking any of it. She had left her credit cards behind, as well, not only because cash transactions would be harder to trace, but because she needed to do this on her own. She hoped the cash would get her on a bus and pay for a few days of expenses before she had to sell the jewelry. She wasn’t going straight to Chicago, because that would be too easy to trace. She thought she would head northwest, then south, then to the east.

      The waitress brought their pie, and to keep Noah off her back, Olivia downed her slice quickly. He, on the other hand, took his own sweet time.

      “I could go for another slice,” he said at last.

      That was all Olivia could take. She scrambled out of the booth despite his protests. “I’ll see you in the truck.”

      She stopped off in the rest room and frowned at her reflection in the mirror. The braids and absence of makeup made her look like a kid, an image enhanced by the rumpled T-shirt and jeans. Maybe her childish appearance was the reason Noah spoke to her as if she was a ninny. But the disguise might help her, as well. If anyone showed her photograph around this diner, surely the pigtailed ragamuffin she appeared to be wouldn’t be associated with the well-dressed and coiffed Olivia Franklin.

      A glance at her watch showed ten past noon. By now, she imagined the ranch was in a full-scale panic. It being her wedding day, she was certain no one would have been surprised when she didn’t appear early in the morning. It had probably been at least ten—over three hours after Noah’s truck had left the ranch—before Mary went to her room and found her gone.

      Hopefully her father and the “suits” had latched on to the false trail she had attempted to leave—the reservation she had made on an early-morning flight out of Austin. The address book opened to an acquaintance from school who now lived in Madrid.

      None of that would fool them for long. But surely they would chase those leads and talk to the caterers, who

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