Runaway Bride. Barbara Hannay

almost smiled. ‘Yes, Bella. In this. And yes, I know it’s a bright red phallic symbol, but it was all the hire car agency in this tinpot town could offer me. And it’s fine. It’s a hell of a lot faster than the car our grandparents are driving.’

      Damon turned to leave. Having dutifully informed her, he was clearly in a hurry to get going. ‘I’m glad I saw you, but if I’m going to catch this pair I should hit the road.’

      She almost called, ‘Wait!’ This was all happening too quickly—yet another surprise in a very surprising morning. But if she called Damon back, she wasn’t sure what she would say.

      As if sensing her dilemma, he looked back at her with a frown. ‘How did you get here? Do you have a car?’

      She shook her head. ‘I came straight from the hotel.’ All her friends, including her bridesmaid, Zoe, were back at the hotel sleeping off the hens’ party. ‘I was lucky enough to grab Willara’s one and only taxi.’

      ‘Let me give you a lift, then.’ He said this politely, but without enthusiasm as if he was as cautious and tense as she was. ‘Are you going back into town?’

      ‘Actually, I should go to Blue Gums to see my father.’ She had to tell her dad about Paddy’s disappearance, as well as the news that she and Kent were no longer getting married. She wasn’t looking forward to delivering either message.

      ‘I can drop you off. The farm’s on the way out of town.’

      Bella hesitated. Getting into a sports car with Damon Cavello, her high-school sweetheart, was too much like a blast from the past.

      It felt ridiculously dangerous—very Red Riding Hood and the wolf.

      This man had always been the haunting ‘what if?’ in her life.

      But this morning his offer was also her best option. ‘Thanks,’ she said just a little too breathlessly.

      She dropped her overnight bag next to his in the boot, and their two bags—her soft leather holdall and his scuffed, heavy-duty canvas duffle—nestled companionably together.

      It was an unsettling sight.

      Mad with herself for feeling nervous, she slipped into the luxurious leather passenger seat and buckled her seat belt. Damon slid behind the wheel and she caught a teasing whiff of his cologne, spicy, exotic and manly. She wondered where on the planet he’d bought it. Europe? The Middle East? Somewhere in Asia?

      So not the way she wanted to be thinking.

      She supposed she should think of something to talk about. She knew Damon had gone to Kent’s bucks’ party last night, but if she mentioned that she might find herself having to explain about their wedding cancellation. This was possibly sensible as Damon was a wedding guest, but it all felt too difficult right now. Damon would ask questions she wasn’t ready to answer.

      Anyway, he was about to take off up the highway. And fortunately, he wasn’t in a chatty mood. He made no attempt at conversation as they drove down Willara’s main street, which was quieter than ever on this early Sunday morning. Bella couldn’t help wondering if he was battling similar memories to hers.

      Against her better judgement, she was picturing him all those years ago as he waited for her on the street corner outside the Willara café, wearing his ripped blue jeans and ratty, faded T-shirt. She was remembering the silver spark that had lit his grey eyes whenever he saw her, and she was feeling the giddy excitement of his lips on hers, the stunning joy of his arms about her, of his lean, tough body held hard against her.

      At eighteen, Damon Cavello had been raw and dangerous and addictive. And forbidden.

      He’d woken longings in her that had never been soothed.

      Shut off the memories. Now. Stop it. But as they turned right, heading out of town, the car picked up speed and Bella’s sense of déjà vu grew stronger, taking her back to another time when she’d driven off in a car with Damon.

      It had been a weekend towards the end of his last year of high school. They’d been driving out to the dam to join friends for a barbecue picnic. But at the turn-off, Damon had pulled off the road in the shade of paper-bark trees, and he’d just sat there, staring at the road in front of them.

      ‘Do you want to keep going?’ he’d asked.

      At first, Bella hadn’t understood. ‘Keep going where?’

      He’d grinned. ‘I don’t know. As far as we feel like going. Don’t you ever get the urge to just take off and see what’s around the corner?’

      The idea had had instant appeal, but Bella’s conscience had troubled her. ‘The others are expecting us at the dam.’

      ‘It would spoil the fun if we told them what we’re doing. Let them guess.’

      His eyes had been sparkling with excitement and a sense of adventure, and her heart had flipped, catching his enthusiasm and loving the way he continually surprised her.

      Not that she would give in too easily. ‘I told my parents I’d be spending the day at the dam. I can’t just take off with you.’

      ‘We’ll be fine. I’ll have you home in plenty of time. Come on, Bell. Let’s have an adventure.’ He’d smiled, his bright gaze holding hers, and of course she’d melted faster than chocolate in a microwave.

      ‘Kiss me first while I think about it.’ Bella had loved Damon’s kisses, hadn’t been able to get enough of them. Already she’d unbuckled her seat belt and was edging closer, and his lips were soft and sexy and warm.

      He was the most amazing kisser. The instant their lips met, the world had become theirs. Their kiss … their mouths touching, their lips pressing, exploring, parting …

      The kiss grew hotter and hotter and it took the honking of a horn from a passing truck to drag them apart.

      Bella was smiling and more than a little breathless. ‘Okay, you’re on. Let’s hit the road.’

      Taking risks had been so easy. Back then.

      The memory caused a bittersweet pang to tighten like a lasso around her heart. Without warning, she was swamped by a dark wave of depression.

      She told herself it was aftershock, a reaction to the snowballing weirdness of her morning. For the past few weeks she’d been focused on her wedding, on gowns and flowers and reception menus, and she’d known exactly what was happening with the rest of her life. She was going to marry her oldest friend and neighbour, Kent Rigby. She would be a farmer’s wife, living on Willara Downs next door to her father’s farm.

      Bella had been so certain of this—okay, yes, so resigned to this—that she’d abandoned her career in Brisbane.

      This morning, after the decision to call the wedding off, she’d felt instant relief. Now, however, the relief was fading and she was facing the blankness of her future. No job, no plans. Just a gaping black hole. She felt as if she’d been sleepwalking and had woken to find herself directionless and alone, in the middle of a vast, empty desert.

      Seeing Damon again made everything worse, stirring all kinds of dangerous memories. He reminded her of all the exciting things she’d once planned for her life, none of which had eventuated.

      She’d played it safe. And where had that left her?

      Jobless, partnerless, with no plans and nothing to do.

      Even the task of calling off the wedding had been taken on by Kent. He’d insisted on ringing their guests, and he was asking Zoe, her bridesmaid, to help with the caterers and the hire people.

      Now, her grandfather was off having some crazy, reckless adventure with Violet, and Damon was chasing after him.

      And Bella would be left at home feeling flat and empty, overcome by a sense of anticlimax. Or she would be dealing with endless questions and sympathetic and curious glances from