His Runaway Bride Read online

  So, Jayne said "fuck it" to herself, grabbed that part of her inner strength that she'd had to develop in order to leave that awful marriage and get herself across the country with her son in tow and not much more than the clothes on their backs, and she turned to face him full on.

  The dark purplish bruise on her jaw—where Jake's fist had connected with it hard enough to snap her head back and into the wall—was just starting to fade, but the black eye was still blooming, getting worse every time she looked into the mirror, she would swear. There was a cut on her cheek that she'd cleaned up but didn't bother to put a Band Aid on, a knot on the back of her head from the wall, and a gash at her temple where she'd hit it against the corner of the coffee table when he'd knocked her off her feet. Her ribcage hadn't fared much better than her face as she'd endured some well-placed kicks once she was down there, but he would never see those, and when she looked into his eyes, she was damned glad he wouldn't.

  There was no way she could miss the shock he managed to cover quickly—she had to give that to him—before his expression became, not blank but set, a muscle ticking furiously in his jaw. That finger she'd anticipated did reach toward her slowly, but even though she'd known he might do that, Jayne couldn't prevent herself from shying away.

  His face changed in a disturbing way—one she couldn't begin to put a name on—and he retracted his hand without ever having touched her, while taking a large step back. Then he cleared his throat and began to gather the stuff she'd set outside the car, shouldering almost all of the load and leaving her just a few small things. He set off toward the house, Braeden galloping behind him, trying to keep up.

  Meanwhile, his mother was left to follow or not, and she wondered which would be the lesser of the two evils. Maybe she could just live in her car, rather than having to deal with him. Pace Marshall had always made her nervous for some reason. He made her jittery. Her heart beat faster around him, her hands were always clammy, and she just felt like such an idiot that she actively avoided being in his company, when she could.

  This was not going to be one of those times, though. She was going to be living in his house, able to stay there only because of his good graces. Brownie and Archie lived there, too, but Pace owned the house and the ranch, which was only right since Brownie had no interest whatsoever in being a rancher.

  Brownie had a fiancé who was very nice—more than a match for Pace; in fact, he was one of Pace's football player friends who was still playing the game. Eventually, they were going to get married and had already bought a plot of land on which they would be building their dream house shortly, not too far from the ranch.

  Jayne wondered baldly if she'd still be sponging off her friend when the house was finished. That was supposed to take another year and a half or so, and she'd be damned if she'd impose on them for that long.

  Realistically, she'd given herself ninety days to find a job of some sort and get herself moved out of the ranch, and she considered that that was much too long, intending to accomplish it much sooner than that with any luck. She could do anything—she'd take any job in order to get some money flowing in. Brownie had already told her—during multiple attempts, over the years, to convince her to do what she'd just done—that rents were very reasonable—much more so than they were in the East.

  So, hopefully, that would be doable. That was her goal, anyway, and she knew that she'd give herself hell if she didn't meet it. Brownie wouldn't care one whit about how long she stayed. Hell, she'd already told her she could live there indefinitely as far as she was concerned.

  But Jayne couldn't see Pace signing onto an open-ended stay—especially with a precocious toddler getting into everything. Hell, she couldn't see him being particularly happy with the idea of her staying the entire ninety days, either.

  Ninety minutes would probably be a stretch for him.

  She knew it was going to be for her.

  Chapter 2

  But she was very pleasantly surprised by Pace, she had to admit. He'd hauled all their stuff to a different room from the one she'd used when she'd stayed there previously.

  "I put you here because it has a connecting door to the next room. I thought Braeden could stay in the other bedroom," he explained matter of factly, putting things that were obviously for the baby in the other room and leaving anything questionable in what would be her room.

  "It's no problem for him to sleep in here with me," Jayne offered tentatively. "I don't want us to take up any more of your house than we have to."

  He passed her—giving her an almost comically wide berth—on the way to the door. "We have lots of spare bedrooms, Jayne, and you're our first company in years, so they're always empty. I'll let you unpack. Make yourself at home."

  She couldn't quite meet his eyes when she blurted out, "Thank you for letting us stay here, Pace."

  He stopped at the door and turned back toward her. "I'm glad Brownie offered, and we're both very happy to help in any way we can."

  Jayne almost snorted at the "both" but managed to suppress it. Keeping her eyes on the bags in front of her, she repeated, "Thank you. I appreciate it."

  He looked as if he wanted to say something more, but instead, Pace merely nodded and closed the door behind himself, leaving Jayne to sink bonelessly down onto the end of the bed, her legs feeling like Jello.

  "Mumma?"

  "Yes, baby?" she replied absently, still trying to deal with how disconcerted that man always made her.

  "'M hungwy."

  "Well, I'll fix you a snack in just a minute. I want to get your pack and play setup and this stuff put away, so that the room is neat and tidy. Then we'll head for the kitchen and see what we can rustle up."

  She'd meant to find a grocery store before they arrived, too, but in the end, after having driven for so long, she really just wanted to get to Brownie's house and collapse for a year or two. But that option wasn't open to her. There were things that had to get done, and unpacking was one of them.

  The rooms were incredibly spacious—much more so than the cramped flat from which they'd fled—and Jayne was able to find a place for everything while Braeden "halped" occasionally, but mostly played with his favorite stuffed animal—a dog named Blue, who was, ironically, green.

  "There we are," she announced, hands on her hips. "Who's up for some food?"

  "Me, me, me!" her son yelled excitedly.

  "Let's go rustle up some grub, then, partner." She smiled down at him and extended her hand.

  Jayne had sincerely hoped that Pace had departed by now, even though this was his house and he had every right to be in it. But he also worked here, and she was sure that he should have been doing something, probably involving either a horse or a cow, or both.

  But, no.

  He was in the big, open great room, reading something on his tablet.

  She stood as close to his chair as she was comfortable doing, saying, "If you don't mind, I'm going to fix this little guy a snack. Can I get you anything?"

  He stood, and she really wished he hadn't. Jake was a big guy—not quite as big as Pace—but Pace's size disturbed her, even though she didn't want it to. "There's no need to ask about eating anything, Jayne," he scolded lightly. "We want you to feel at home here. Eat whatever you'd like, whenever you'd like. I had lunch already, but thank you for the offer."

  Something struck Jayne that she hadn't done when they were outside, and she knew she needed to do it now, or she never would. She had hated introductions and handshaking and all of that all her life, but she was determined to make sure that her son was more comfortable with it than she would ever be, so she tried to remember to formally introduce him to people.

  "Pace, this is my son, Braeden. Braeden, this is Mr. Marshall."

  Pace, bless him, leaned over to offer his enormous paw to the little boy, who looked at it, then up at his mother, who nodded slightly.

  Then he put his hand in Pace's—not really shaking it, but going through the motions his mother had taught
him.

  "Good job, buddy!" she whispered with a big smile, and when Pace let go and straightened up, she was surprised to see that he was wearing a small one himself as he gazed down at the boy.

  Then that intense gaze was transferred to her, making her feel even more uneasy. "There are sliced meats in the drawer and bread on the counter if you'd like sandwiches, salad makings in the big bag on one of the shelves—Brownie likes to keep all of that stuff in one place so she can just throw a salad together whenever she wants one."

  "Ina have salad."

  Pace looked floored at that pronouncement as Jayne moved into the kitchen. "Salad?" he repeated. "Really?"

  Jayne smiled. "Yeah. I have no idea where I got him from, but I'm not going to look a gift salad in the mouth."

  She made it a chef's salad by putting some provolone and roast beast in, along with romaine, sunflower seeds, croutons, raisins, radishes, olives, baby carrots, and celery while Pace, to her astonishment, proceeded to keep Braeden occupied, picking him up and setting him on his lap as he took over one of the bar stools.

  "So, Braeden, have you ever met a horse?"

  It was impossible for her not to hear them talking.

  "Nuh-uh." Braeden shook his head.

  "Well, this is a ranch, and we have lots of horses and lots of cows. We call them cattle."

  "Awe you a real-life cowboy, Mr. Marshall?" the little boy asked, voice full of awe.

  When he smiled, her heart ached uncomfortably. "Why, yes, I am. And I think that you can probably call me—"

  "Mr. Marshall," Jayne interrupted to supply, with a warning look at Pace. "Or sir."

  He didn't look perturbed in the least at her correcting him but nonetheless countered, "Or how about boss? Most people around here call me that. Would that work for you, Momma?"

  It was the first time anyone but Braeden or Brownie had called her that. Jake had certainly never done it, and yet Pace was using it within five minutes of their arrival. She wasn't sure whether that was a good or a bad thing, necessarily, but she was leaning toward good.

  "I think so," she agreed.

  Braeden was struggling to get down, although Pace seemed to be holding the wiggle worm fast. "I wanna see the horses! I wanna see the cows!"

  Jayne was desperate to try to avoid him having a tantrum, not that he did that very often. But still. It wouldn't make a very good impression, and despite how well he was doing with Braeden now, she didn't think Pace would appreciate such behavior.

  But just as she was reaching for her boy, he leaned down and whispered something into his ear that she couldn't catch, and the next thing she knew, he was sitting quietly on Pace's lap again.

  What the fuck? She was going to have to find out what he'd said to him, so that she could use it herself! He was behaving really well now, though, and she didn't much care to rock the boat.

  When the two salads were made, Pace carried Braeden to the dining room table, which wasn't very far away, as Jayne brought in their lunch, which she essentially abandoned on the table to dash into their bedroom and come out with a booster seat.

  When she returned, though, he was again ensconced on Pace's lap and already digging—messily—into his "salad", which was really just some lettuce, celery, and baby carrots with a bit of ranch dressing.

  Jayne lifted him off Pace's lap and put him down on his booster seat.

  "He was fine sitting on me."

  "No, he sits in his own chair, because when you're not here, I'm not going to hold him on my lap while he eats."

  She gave him a pass on using a fork with salad at the moment, especially in front of Pace. He was much more accurate in finding his mouth when he used his fingers, and less food would land on the beautiful tile beneath their feet.

  Of course, just as they sat down to eat, Brownie arrived and began smothering mother and son in hugs and kisses. Braeden, trouper that he was, continued to eat throughout.

  She even gave her big brother a hug.

  "I am so glad that you came out to stay with us, Jayne," she sighed, plopping down in the chair next to her friend and grabbing a radish out of her salad to munch on for herself.

  "I'll make you a salad of your own, if you want," Jayne offered, having forgotten how forward her friend could be without thinking.

  "No, I'd much rather cannibalize yours."

  When they were done and Jayne was putting their dishes in the dishwasher, Brownie suddenly popped out of her chair, heading down the hall toward her room, returning with a pile of presents in her arms that was so tall that she could barely see over them.

  Luckily, Jayne saw her out of the corner of her eye before Braeden caught sight of them, and while her son was staring at Pace as he talked about what it was like to be a cowboy, she was able to waylay her friend, backing her back into her bedroom.

  "What is the problem?" Brownie whined, putting the boxes and bags down on the bed.

  Hands on her hips, Jayne raised her eyebrow as she confronted her friend. "You cannot give him all of those presents. You'll spoil him."

  "They're not all for him," she wheedled. "Some are for you."

  With a loud sigh, Jayne came to sit next to her friend on the bed. "That doesn't make it any better. You don't need to buy me things. You're letting me stay at your house on a moment's notice already—"

  Brownie pouted. "But I like buying you things, and having you here is no hardship."

  "I've—we've—only been here five minutes. Wait until Braeden gets overtired and has a tantrum in front of Pace."

  "I told you. Pace likes kids."

  "I'm sure he likes the ones who are screaming and crying at the top of their lungs the best, right?"

  Brownie sighed in exasperation. "You never let me do anything nice for you."

  Eyes wide, Jayne responded, "Oh, please! You pretty much outfitted Braeden's entire nursery yourself, and you're always sending him tons of presents. And, as I've already said, here I am, imposing on you—"

  "Stop. You're not. I want you here. I've missed you since you've been on the coast. And everything you just listed about the presents was for Braeden. I want you to have nice things, too."

  "I don't need or want anything at the moment besides a safe place to stay and a moment to collect myself. I'll be out of your hair—and Pace's—as soon as I can possibly manage it."

  "Stop! What do I need to do to make you stop thinking of yourself as some kind of horrible person who I can't bear to have around?"

  "That's not what I meant and you know it."

  "If I had to come stay with you, would you want me to feel like I had to leave as soon as possible, because I was some kind of burden to you? Or would you want me to feel welcome and comfortable and wanted and at home?"

  Jayne frowned fiercely, unwilling to answer her friend's hypothetical question.

  "Yeah, well, I don't resent you. I will love having you—and Braeden—here! And this is the safest place for you. Almost everyone wears or has quick access to a gun and is a crack shot—coyotes are a bad problem. It's isolated, but there are a lot of people around. If Jake decided to come looking for you here, he'd never make it to the door, much less to you. And I'm sure Pace would just love the chance to beat the ever-loving shit out of him."

  That was startling to hear.

  "I want you to feel free to take as much time as you need. I know you've been working practically 'round the clock to support that dickheaded bastard. You deserve a vacation. Relax. Get your head together. I took some time off to be with you, and I'll take care of Braeden so that you can sleep in in the mornings, for a while, at least. It'll be good for you to have some down time, and it'll be good practice for me for when I start having kids."

  Brownie was a wonderful friend, but she wouldn't put down any money on the idea that she would last more than a half hour or so "babysitting" Braeden in the morning, although it was a very nice thought for her to want to do that.

  Jayne wrapped her arms around her friend from behind, and then Brown
ie turned into the hug. "Thank you. I will never be able to say it often enough."

  "You've already said it more times than you need to. Really. I mean it. You need to take some time and relax as best you can. You've been so tightly wound since you met Jake—and no wonder. I'm so proud of you for being strong enough to leave him. Now let me take care of you—and Brae—for a while. Then, when you're ready, we'll get you a job—close by, I hope—and a new apartment and get you set up for the next phase of your life."

  They hugged each other tightly, Jayne wondering baldly what she would have done if she hadn't had Brownie to come to.

  "And I wasn't kidding about me taking care of Braeden, either. I don't have a lot of experience with kids, as you know—"

  "So you want to experiment on mine," Jayne supplied wryly.

  "Just a teensy bit," Brownie confessed. "I'll take him away for the day a couple of times, so that you can just veg out and not worry about him."

  Jayne wasn't going to touch that one, because her intentions were good.

  "We'll go to the zoo and the Children's Museum."

  She was betting that one outing with a toddler would cure her of ever wanting to go anywhere with him again, but it was going to be interesting to watch her come to her senses, so she didn't try to dissuade Brownie.

  "You can pick one present to give him today, and then you have to disperse them—weeks apart—until they're gone." The full-on pout was back at that. "Or pick some to save and give to him on his birthday."

  Her friend squealed loudly, in a manner that wasn't too far from what Braeden sounded like when he was excited. "Do you think you guys'll still be here six months from now. I hope, I hope?"

  "Well, in the area, anyway, although not living with you."

  Brownie's face fell a bit at that proclamation as they both stood, then Brownie grabbed her friend into another hug. "Well, I'll take you any way I can get you."