Wild Highway: Runaway Series - Book 2 Read online

  “Where’d she go?” I asked.

  “She wasn’t feeling well.”

  “What?” My gaze whipped to the window, and sure enough, the Cadillac was gone. “She’s sick?”

  Gemma had been fine this morning when I’d left the cabin. I hadn’t seen her at the lodge today, but when I’d arrived here tonight, she’d appeared okay. Not that I’d outright asked her because when we were here, I didn’t talk to her. I did my best to treat her like an acquaintance. I didn’t want anyone to notice the way I looked at her, so I’d decided it was better not to glance at her in the first place.

  “She said she had a headache,” Mom said.

  “Since when?”

  “I’m guessing since Liz arrived.” Mom shook her head, glancing over her shoulder to make sure we were alone. “I love your father, but that man can be thick as a brick wall sometimes.”

  “Huh?”

  Mom pursed her lips. “Like father like son.”

  “What did I do?” I scowled.

  She reached up and flicked the shell of my ear.

  “Ouch.” My hand flew to rub the sting. Mom hadn’t flicked my ear like that since I’d been a teenager. “Seriously?”

  “Shame on you, Easton Greer. If that girl stays after the way you treated her, I’ll be shocked.”

  “What should I have done, Mom?” I stepped closer, careful to keep my voice low. “Gemma and I agreed to keep this between us. We don’t need anyone else involved when she’s just going to leave in a few weeks. And I couldn’t exactly ignore Liz. Dad invited her, not me. But I don’t blame him. She would have been alone at Thanksgiving.”

  “I know.” She sighed. “Don’t get me wrong. I like Liz. I actually thought Cash would chase after her one of these days.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Not that he’d have any luck. She’s always had a crush on you.” She cast her eyes to the ceiling. “My boys are both clueless.”

  “I’m not—wait, what? Liz doesn’t have a crush on me.”

  Mom flicked my ear again.

  “Jesus Chr—”

  “Language.” She pointed a finger at my nose.

  “Sorry.” I rubbed my ear again. “What was that for?”

  “That was for Gemma. Because you were so busy not looking at her, you missed the way Liz was. That’s why Gemma left, fighting tears and faking a headache, because you are so worried she’s going to leave that you’re practically pushing her out the door.”

  “Because she is leaving. Why drag all of you into this? Why get everyone’s hopes up that she’s going to stay when she won’t?”

  After hearing Gemma’s story about her mother, I didn’t blame her for leaving. She deserved to find the place she wanted to stay. She deserved the life of her choosing. She’d been forced into too much.

  So I wouldn’t beg her to stay for me. I wouldn’t guilt her into a life here simply because it would make my dreams come true.

  I was in love with Gemma.

  I loved her enough to set her free. This was her decision to make.

  “She wants a home, son.”

  “I know.”

  Mom put her hand to my cheek. “Then give her one.”

  If only it were that easy.

  “Oh, sorry.” Behind Mom, Liz stopped at the edge of the room. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “It’s fine.” There wasn’t much more I could explain to Mom without delving into Gemma’s past. And that was her story to tell, not mine.

  “Should we have dessert?” Mom gave me a tight smile, then turned and walked for the kitchen.

  “Actually, I’m going to take off.”

  She glanced over her shoulder and nodded, knowing exactly where I was headed. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Happy Thanksgiving, Mom. Thanks for cooking.”

  “My pleasure.” Mom’s expression was a mix of hope and worry—though not for me. Mom loved Gemma too. And she was counting on me to make this right.

  But what if the only way to make it right was to let Gemma drive away?

  She’d break my heart but I’d stand back and watch her go.

  It would hurt us both far more if I had to watch her fade away simply because I’d asked her to live the life I wanted.

  “You’re leaving already?” Liz asked, following me to the door.

  “Yeah.” I took my coat off the hook and shrugged it on. “It’s been a long day and there’s always work tomorrow.”

  “It was nice to see you.”

  “You too. I’ll stop by the bar one of these nights and beat you at a game of dice.”

  “Ha.” She huffed. “You wish. When was the last time you beat me? Six? Seven years ago?”

  I chuckled. “To be fair, you get more time to practice.”

  “True.” She smiled. “Are you just going home?”

  Eventually. But first, I had to make a stop at the cabin. “Yep,” I lied and zipped up my coat.

  Liz stepped close, too close, and traced her finger up my arm. “Want some company?”

  Well, shit.

  “Look, Liz, I—”

  “Don’t say it.” She cringed and stepped away, slapping a hand to her forehead. “I’m sorry. We’re friends. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m stupid.”

  “You’re not stupid. I just don’t feel that way about you.”

  She met my gaze, her own screaming why?

  “I’m with someone.”

  Her forehead furrowed, then her eyes went to the door and the space where Gemma’s Cadillac had been parked. “Oh, it’s Gemma, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Can we forget this happened? Please?” she pleaded.

  I nodded. “Sure.”

  “Thanks, Easton.” She took another step away. “See you around.”

  “See ya, Liz.” We both knew I wouldn’t be in to play dice. Even if Gemma wasn’t in the picture, even if Gemma hadn’t captured my heart, Liz would only ever be a friend. I wouldn’t lead her on. Hell, maybe I’d been leading her on.

  Once again, Mom was right.

  When it came to women, I was thick as a brick wall. Someday, I’d remember that my mother was always right.

  I slipped outside without saying goodbye to the others. Tomorrow, I’d run into town and get Mom and Grandma flowers for all their work, but tonight, my gut was yelling that something was wrong with Gemma and it wasn’t a headache.

  The cabin’s lights were on and a stream of smoke trailed from the chimney. I didn’t bother knocking at the door and let myself inside. “Gem?”

  A drawer slammed in the bedroom before she emerged in the hallway. Her hair was up in a ponytail and her face was flushed. “So you just let yourself in?”

  “So you just left without a word?”

  “I didn’t realize we were speaking when other people were around.” She fisted her hands on her hips. “My bad.”

  “I didn’t come here to fight.” I paused in the middle of unzipping my coat. “Do you want me to go?”

  For a second, I thought she’d say yes. But then the angry look on her face softened and she pinched the bridge of her nose. “No.”

  “Are you feeling all right? Mom said you were sick.”

  “I’m fine,” she muttered and walked my way as I hung up my coat. “Want something to drink?”

  “No, I’m good.”

  She passed me on her way to the kitchen, not looking at me directly, so I slipped off my boots and followed, standing behind her as she took out a glass and filled it with some water from the tap.

  “Hey.” I stepped into the space behind her, lifting the glass from her hand and setting it beside the sink. “There’s nothing with Liz.”

  “I know. You’re friends.”

  “Yes. We’re friends. I’ve known her a long time. But that’s where it ends. And after you left, I made sure she understood that.”

  “It’s fine.” She waved it off and tried to move away, but I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and pulled her back
against my chest.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Gemma hung her head. “Nothing.”

  “Try again.”

  “I don’t fit here, Easton,” she whispered, and my heart cracked.

  Maybe I’d seen this coming. Maybe I should have expected it sooner. But these past two weeks as Gemma had pulled away, I should have seen it as the beginning of a goodbye.

  I let her go and took a step away.

  She turned to face me. “I’m not what you need.”

  I scoffed. “Spare me that, okay? You walk away from here, that’s your choice. But don’t play the martyr.”

  “I’m not playing at anything. It’s the truth.”

  “You made the decision for me. Why? Because Liz was at dinner?”

  “It’s not about her.”

  “Bullshit.”

  She shot me a glare, then stormed out of the kitchen for the bedroom.

  My temper spiked as she disappeared down the hallway and I marched after her.

  “Why—” My question fell away as I reached the doorway. There was an open suitcase on the bed with most of Gemma’s clothes inside. “You’re leaving.”

  “I’m leaving.” She yanked the nightstand drawer open and took out the few things she’d stashed inside. A lip balm and a box of condoms got thrown on the suitcase pile.

  It was impossible to take a full breath. My chest felt tight like someone had wrapped it in steel.

  I was supposed to have until Christmas. I was supposed to have time to prepare for this.

  I wasn’t ready.

  “Would you have even said goodbye?” I asked.

  She stood from the drawer, throwing a hand lotion onto the bed, and her shoulders drooped. “No.”

  It was eleven years ago all over again.

  Well, fuck that. I wasn’t letting her slip out again. This time, she could watch me walk away when I was goddamn ready to leave.

  I blew into the room, my rage a force, and took her face in my hands. I held it tight, then slammed my mouth on hers in a hard, brutal kiss.

  Gemma melted against me, surrendered, as I poured my frustration into her lips. She leaned into it, taking everything I had. She let me punish her with this kiss.

  Except I didn’t want to punish her. I wanted to love her and keep her and . . . fuck. It would break her.

  I tore my mouth away and dragged in a jagged breath as I dropped my forehead to hers. Her scent was everywhere, and I realized how foolish I’d been not to take her to my bed. Because I had nothing of hers to keep. When she left this cabin, she’d be gone.

  “I’m sorry.” Her voice cracked. “I don’t—”

  “It’s okay.” I cupped her cheek and leaned away to meet her eyes. They were full of unshed tears. When one dripped down the smooth curve of her cheek, I wiped it away with my thumb. “It’s okay.”

  She stood on her toes, brushing her lips against mine. This time, it was my turn to melt. I wrapped her up tight, holding her close as she opened her mouth to let my tongue sweep inside.

  I’d memorize her taste. I’d memorize the way she felt in my arms. I’d do all of that because I hadn’t all those years ago.

  This time around, I wouldn’t lose her memory so quickly.

  Our hands fumbled to strip clothing as we shuffled to the bed. Her sweater came first so I could mold my hands over the black satin of her bra. Her nipples pebbled beneath the fabric, digging into the flesh of my palm. My button-up came next, followed by the white T-shirt underneath.

  When the backs of her knees hit the edge of the mattress, I eased her down and flicked the button open on her jeans so I could drag them off her legs. With them gone, the only thing left on the bed was Gemma in her bra and panties. And that fucking suitcase.

  I shoved it to the floor.

  Gemma scowled as her clothes spilled everywhere.

  I shrugged and unbuckled my belt. If this was the last time, I wasn’t going to be hindered by that fucking luggage.

  Gemma sat up and ran her hands across my stomach, her pink nails digging into the dips between each muscle. Then she ripped the button free and tugged down the zipper. The moment I sprang free, her tongue was on me, licking the tip of my cock before taking me completely into her mouth.

  “Gem.” I cupped the back of her head. “Fuck.”

  She moaned and the vibration of her throat nearly tipped me over the edge.

  I pulled her off me with her ponytail, then I shoved off my jeans, and tore at her panties while she unclasped her bra. When I covered her naked body with my own, she wound her legs around my hips. Our eyes locked. Our breaths mingled. And when I slid inside her bare, I wrapped her in my arms so she’d feel the beat of my heart.

  It was hers.

  And when she left here tomorrow, she’d take it on the road.

  Gemma trembled beneath me, her legs cinching tighter to pull me deeper.

  “I need to get a condom,” I whispered in her ear.

  She shook her head, her arms holding me close. “Not yet.”

  I loved this woman. Damn, did I love her. But if I didn’t put a condom on now, there’d be no chance I’d stop again. And as much as I wanted to see her growing with our child, that would only make things worse.

  So I pulled free as a groan of protest escaped her lips and riffled around the floor until I found the box of condoms. When I rejoined her on the bed, she spread her legs wide and welcomed me home.

  “You feel so good.” I kissed her open mouth. “So fucking good.”

  She hummed her agreement against my lips as I rocked us together, taking her higher, stroke after stroke. When her legs began to tremble and her breath hitched, I reached between us and found her clit.

  One touch and she detonated. She pulsed around me with wave after wave of pleasure, causing her body to quake. The squeeze of her inner walls and the sheer ecstasy on her face was too much. Tingles raced down my spine and my blinding orgasm broke.

  We held tight to one another, grasping for just one more second together. Our bodies were slick with sweat and her ear was against my lips. The words I wanted to whisper begged to be free. I love you. I wanted to say them. I wanted her to know that she meant everything to me. But I swallowed them down because I wouldn’t make her deny them or repeat them. I wouldn’t give her anything to feel guilty about when she left.

  Before I eased away and stood from the bed, I kissed the underside of her jaw, then her collarbone, stealing little tastes while I could. Then I left her on the bed while I went to the bathroom to deal with the condom.

  Maybe tonight, if I could talk to her and get her to relax, I could find out where her head was at. I could find out what had happened and see if I could delay this for a couple more weeks. If I got really lucky, we’d get five feet of snow and she’d be stuck here until spring.

  It might only delay the inevitable, but it might be my only chance to give her the time to change her mind. To decide on this ranch as a home.

  On me.

  I washed up and expected to find her in bed when I got back to the room. Instead, she was dressed. Her hair was twisted in a messy knot and she was on her knees beside the suitcase.

  She wasn’t putting the clothes back in the dresser.

  She was packing them to leave.

  So much for one last night.

  I swiped my jeans off the floor and jerked them on, leaving the belt hanging loose. Gemma held out my T-shirt and I ripped it from her hands before pulling it over my head. I couldn’t see my button-up in the mess, but I wasn’t going to stick around and search for it.

  “When?” I barked.

  “When what?” Her voice was calm and quiet.

  “When are you leaving?”

  “Tomorrow, I guess.”

  I scoffed and searched the mess on the floor for my socks. When I found them, I shoved them in my pocket and spun for the door without a word.

  If she wasn’t staying, neither was I. Sleeping beside her for another night, having her curled int
o my side, would be torture.

  I stalked to the door, taking my coat from the hook and not bothering to put it on while I stepped into my boots. My anger would be enough to keep me warm all the way home.

  Gemma’s footsteps stomped on the floor as she came down the hallway. “So that’s it? You come here, fuck me and leave?”

  “Are you kidding me? Fuck, you drive me insane.” I raked a hand through my hair. “You’re the one who’s hell-bent on racing out of here in the morning. What do you want from me?”

  “You? What about me? What do you want from me?”

  I want you to stay. More than anything, I wanted her to stay.

  But I wasn’t going to beg. If she chose this life, if she chose me, she’d have to be sure. Because the minute she said yes, I’d hold on and never let go.

  I wanted her to make her own choice.

  “I’m not going to beg you to stay, Gemma.”

  Something flashed in her eyes, but before I could make sense of it, she blinked it away. Then she reached past me to whip the door open, and with one hand pressed into my chest, she shoved me outside.

  Right before she slammed the door in my face, I heard her whisper, “No one ever does.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Gemma

  “What else is happening?” I asked Benjamin.

  “That’s it,” he said. “Everything is under control.”

  “Okay. Good.”

  I’d called him to check in, like I did every Friday morning. And per usual, there wasn’t much to report. Since I’d left Boston, Benjamin had done exactly what I’d asked. He’d taken over.

  Each week, he had fewer questions for me to answer. Fewer tasks for me to complete. It should have made me feel good that I’d put such a competent and capable man in charge. Benjamin was caring for my investments and capital ventures like they were his own.

  But I’d come to dread these Friday morning phone calls because they were another blunt reminder that I wasn’t really needed.

  Not in Boston.

  And not in Montana.

  I’d leave the Greer Ranch today and though Annabeth would be disappointed that once again the front-desk position would be vacant, she’d eventually find my substitute. Katherine had other friends to hang out with. And Easton . . .