The Cowboy's Runaway Bride. Nancy Robards Thompson

      “It’s in my purse, which is in the car. I’m happy to go get it.”

      “Nice try,” he said. “If I march you outside to get it, there’s a chance you’ll run. If I leave you alone to go look for it myself, you’ll leave.”

      He lifted his phone and started pressing numbers.

      “No, don’t. Please don’t—”

      “I’m calling Juliette.”

      She let out her breath on a sigh. “I thought you were calling 911 again.”

      He didn’t respond. Instead, he pressed the phone to his ear. She must’ve answered on the first couple of rings.

      “Juliette, Ethan Campbell—”

      He listened for a moment.

      “Sorry to bother you—”

      He nodded, opened his mouth to say something and closed it again.

      Juliette always had been a talker. It was amusing to watch this tall, gruff, take-charge cowboy be silenced by her. How long would it take before he could get a word in?

      If anyone else had been there she’d have wagered with them.

      Alas, she was alone and had to enjoy the private audience to this amusing show. When Juliette got back into town, Chelsea fully intended to hug her friend just for being her—and, well, okay, for making Ethan Campbell stammer as he tried to get a voice-hold in the conversation.

      “Juliette—” he said. “Juliette—Juliette. Juliette—”

      He held the phone away from his ear for a moment and looked up at the ceiling. Chelsea could hear her friend babbling on even though she couldn’t tell exactly what she was saying.

      Finally, Chelsea did the only thing she could. “Juliette, it’s Chelsea!” she called in the loudest voice she could muster. “It’s Chelsea Allen. Please tell this man you know me and I’m welcome in your home.”

      Even though Chelsea hadn’t been able to understand exactly what Juliette had been talking about a moment ago, she could hear the dramatic silence on the line now and knew Juliette had heard her. She could only pray that Chelsea remembered the code.

      Chelsea Allen was the name she’d used back in their university days when she wanted to lay low. Rather than unloading her full name, Lady Chelsea Ashford Alden, which always made people change. They treated humble, unassuming Chelsea Allen like a regular person. Not like the sister of a famous fashion designer or someone whose brother was likely to be the next prime minister. Chelsea Allen was a nobody, and nobody wanted anything from her. Sometimes it was just so much easier to keep things simple. It had been several years since she and Juliette had been out together and she’d played the Chelsea Allen card, but surely Juliette would remember. Of course she would.

      Frowning even more pronounced than when he’d first cornered her, Ethan put the phone back to his ear. “Juliette, do you know a woman named Chelsea Allen?”

      Juliette was still talking. Ethan’s gaze flicked to Chelsea. As he listened his frown faded to a scowl.

      “Yes. She’s right here. Standing in your hall bathroom. Yep...Sure...Yeah. Right here in your bathtub, to be exact...No, she’s not taking a bath...I caught her coming in through the shower window...It’s a long story...No, she’s fully clothed...Juliette, listen to me. All I need to know is whether or not she’s a friend of yours.”

      Chelsea couldn’t help it. She laughed out loud.

      Buggers, she was still in the bathtub. She steadied herself with one hand on the wall and stepped out of the tub onto the black-and-white-tile floor.

      A moment later Ethan held out the phone to Chelsea. “Juliette wants to talk to you.”

      She couldn’t resist a smug smile as she took the phone from him.

      “Jules? Hi!”

      The sound of Juliette’s warm laughter emanated across the line. “Chelsea, oh, no! Oh, my gosh. I’m so sorry. I was supposed to leave a key for you. I completely forgot to set it out before I left. Obviously, I forgot to close the bathroom window, too.”

      “Jules, it’s okay. Will you tell Deputy Dawg to stand down, please?”

      “You always did know how to make an entrance.”

      “I know, right? But for future reference, I’d rather use the front door than an open window. Scaling walls isn’t my best sport. Please tell Ethan it’s okay for me to be here. He’s about ready to have me hauled off to jail.”

      With the phone pressed up to her ear, she brushed past him because she was starting to feel a bit claustrophobic in the bathroom. As she made her exit, her shoulder grazed Ethan’s very solid chest. If she hadn’t found the guy so annoying, she might’ve found the sheer masculine bulk of him quite sexy.

      “Oh, Ethan’s bark is definitely worse than his bite. He’s a warm and cuddly teddy bear once you get to know him.”

      Warm and cuddly? More like ripped and solid as steel.

      “And you’re speaking from experience, I presume?”

      Juliette snorted. “Um, no. I’ll tell you all about him later. For now, give him the phone and I’ll tell him you’re welcome to be there. Make yourself at home. Help yourself to anything. There’s tea in the cupboard by the stove and I just froze the rest of a homemade lasagna. I’ll be home tomorrow afternoon. We certainly have a lot to talk about.”

      Chelsea glanced at Ethan, who was not even trying to pretend he wasn’t listening. There was no way she could tell Juliette that escaping from the mess that had become her life was going to be a lot harder than she thought. She’d already been forced into hiding, and on day one of hiding in Celebration, Texas, she’d nearly had a run-in with the authorities.

      There was a long pause on the other end of the line and Chelsea could virtually hear Juliette’s wheels turning with unasked questions.

      “We certainly do have a lot to talk about. I’ll tell you when you get home.” She locked gazes with Ethan. “In the meantime, will you please tell the teddy bear I’m welcome to stay?”

      Ethan snorted. “Teddy bear?” But she ignored him.

      “Thanks, Jules. I appreciate this so much.”

      * * *

      Chelsea Allen was hiding something. That much was certain. Ethan didn’t know what, but Chelsea had seemed jumpier than a box of bullfrogs on a trampoline.

      It went beyond being startled after unexpectedly confronting someone inside a house she’d assumed was empty. His gut was telling him that the woman was hiding something, and his gut was rarely wrong.

      But after Chelsea had finished talking to Juliette, she’d handed the phone back to Ethan, and Jules had told him in no uncertain terms that Chelsea was not only welcome at her place, but if she wanted to come and go through the bathroom window, too, that was her prerogative. That was the thing about Juliette Lowell; she was sweet and naive and tended to only see the best in people. That was exactly why Ethan intended to keep an eye on this Chelsea Allen.

      At least she was easy on the eyes. It wouldn’t be too big of a hardship. But since Juliette had given her blessing for Chelsea to stay, he’d have to continue his neighborly duty from afar.

      After he’d hung up the phone, he’d gotten in his truck, called Joyce back and reported that everything had checked out with Juliette. Then he’d headed to Murphy’s Pub. The place he’d been headed to before he’d been waylaid by the strange car in Juliette’s driveway. Tonight the Dallas Cowboys were duking it out with the Miami Dolphins and all he wanted to do was belly up to the bar and watch the game.

      As he pulled open the pub’s front door, he was met by the sound of cheers and hollers. He glanced at the big-screen TV over the bar.