Fugitive Fiancée by Kristin Gabriel

wrinkling her brow. “You’re taking your ranch hand on a date?”
    Garrett cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t exactly call it a date.”
    â€œWhat would you call it?” Venna asked, her gaze fixed on Mimi. Perhaps she finally saw some competition behind all the dirt and manure.
    Mimi leaned forward. “I’m sure Garrett’s just being polite. I might not even be here on Saturday, so he may be free after all.”
    â€œThanks a lot,” Garrett growled under his breath.
    â€œI’ll be sure and give you a call, Garrett.” Venna waved as she drove away, leaving a cloud of dust lingering in the hazy twilight.
    â€œShe seems nice,” Mimi said as Garrett pulled the pickup onto the road.
    â€œNice enough.”
    â€œPretty, too.”
    He glanced at her. “Pretty enough to snag two husbands.”
    She waited for him to elaborate, but he kept his gaze focused on the road. She’d heard about the strong, silent type, but this was ridiculous. At least now she understood why he was avoiding Venna. She tried to ignore the tiny glimmer of satisfaction it gave her. Garrett’s love life, or lack of one, shouldn’t matter to her one bit.
    Leaning back against seat, she gazed at the sunhovering on the horizon, awed by the beautiful palette of colors arcing across the sky. Was there any place more beautiful than this?
    Garrett pulled the pickup truck into the driveway, then cut the engine. “We need to talk.”
    Now, there was a novel idea. “What about?”
    â€œAbout where you’re going to sleep tonight.”
    â€œOh. I forgot about that.” Her cheeks warmed as she realized she’d just taken for granted that he’d invite her to stay at the house. Did a ranch hand normally sleep in the barn? She’d enjoyed her brief interlude in the hayloft yesterday, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to sleep there for the next four weeks. Especially if it was occupied by mice, rats or other assorted rodents.
    â€œI’ve been remodeling the second floor, so the bedrooms up there are a mess. I used to have a small cabin on my ranch that was used for a bunkhouse, but it burned down last month.”
    â€œSo that leaves?”
    â€œMy bed.”
    â€œYour bed?” she echoed, certain she hadn’t heard him right.
    He gazed at her through half-lidded eyes. “I think you’ll find my bed much more comfortable than my sofa.”
    Maybe. But she doubted she’d get any sleep in his bed. For one brief moment, she allowed herself to imagine sleeping in Garrett Lord’s bed. In his arms. Kissing that hard, sullen mouth. A bolt of white-hot desire shot through her veins.
    She closed her eyes, telling herself she shouldn’t be having erotic thoughts about another man already.
    â€œI think I prefer the sofa,” she said at last.
    â€œSorry, that’s not an option.”
    At the unyielding tone of his voice, her mouth fell open. Was this how he planned to get rid of her? Then she looked into Garrett’s green-gold eyes and knew she was overreacting. This wasn’t a man who played games. “Why not?”
    â€œBecause I’ll be sleeping on the sofa. It’s roomy, but not quite big enough for two.”
    She shook her head. “I can’t kick you out of your own bed.”
    He shrugged, then opened the door and climbed out of the pickup. “It will only be for a night or two.”
    Her regret burned away at the arrogant confidence in his tone. The big jerk. Garrett Lord thought he’d be rid of her soon. Thought she was a spoiled city girl who would run back to Austin the first time she broke a nail.
    She didn’t want to admit to herself that the thought of returning to Austin had crossed her mind a time or two in the last few hours. But Garrett’s doubts about her staying power strengthened her resolve.
    â€œA night or two?” she muttered, following Garrett to the house and