Runaway Vegas Bride / Vegas Two-Step. Liz Talley

almost always a woman here to see me,” he spoke into the intercom.

      “This one’s different,” Lucy claimed.

      Wyatt shook his head. “Different, how?”

      “She says she just crawled out of some bushes and she has to talk to you right now. It’s about Leo.”

      Wyatt grinned broadly. Jane coming to him? This was a good day.

      He opened the door, and then gaped at her.

      She looked like a woman who’d been in a fight with a bush. There was a small twig of some kind sticking out of her hair, which was half falling down, half still in a droopy bun on her head. She had small scratches on her face and hands, leaves stuck to her skirt and bits of dirt clinging to her knees.

      “Jane!” He went to her side, looking her over more carefully to make sure she wasn’t really hurt. “What happened?”

      “I hid in a bush,” she said, as he took her hand and led her carefully into his office to a seat on his sofa. “Because I was spying on Leo and Gladdy, and then Leo left, and I didn’t have time to really get out of the way. It was the bush or nothing. Not that it worked. They saw me anyway. And…I ended up like this.”

      “Lucy, would you get…anything you can find to help clean her up, please?” he called out the open office door, then turned to Jane, pulling stray leaves off her skirt, because that looked like the easiest place to start.

      She looked so sad.

      Wyatt carefully pulled the little twig out of her hair.

      “Oops,” she said. “I thought I got it all.”

      “It’s fine now,” Wyatt insisted, smoothing her hair back into place as best he could, which wasn’t really all that well, but she didn’t need to know that. He looked at her knees, dirt ground in, and asked, “You two didn’t get into another fight, did you?”

      “No,” she responded meekly. “I refused to come out of hiding until he left.”

      Wyatt got an image of the scene in his mind, then said, “Good thinking, Jane.”

      Lucy returned with a damp cloth, and Wyatt gently cleansed the scratches on her face, which were red and angry looking but not deep.

      “You poor thing,” Lucy said, looking at Jane like she came from Mars or something.

      She certainly wasn’t Wyatt’s usual type. He’d admit that. But it wasn’t like she came from Mars, either. She was just…a little reserved, serious, all buttoned-up, although today’s white blouse was coming untucked from her dark blue skirt in a couple of places.

      “Lucy, will you run to the market on the corner and get some antibiotic ointment for these cuts?” Wyatt asked.

      “No, it’s okay,” Jane said. “I can do that at home.”

      Wyatt shook his head. “You took care of me when I hurt my eye. I’m going to take care of you now.”

      That got Lucy’s attention as she was walking out the office door. She’d been sure his black eye had something to do with a woman, and he’d refused to explain anything about it. Which made Lucy all the more curious. He gave her a curt nod to get out of there, then started cleaning up Jane’s knees.

      “So, do you think we’re going to survive taking care of these three?” Wyatt asked, thinking he might at least get a smile out of Jane with that.

      She looked even sadder. Her bottom lip started quivering. She sniffled once, then again. Tears filled her pretty blue-green eyes.

      “No, no, no, don’t do that,” Wyatt begged.

      He couldn’t stand the idea of Jane crying. Not tough little Jane, who could handle anything. Her expression just crumbled. The harder she fought to control it, the more difficult it become.

      Wyatt dabbed at the corner of her eyes with a tissue. “It’s okay. Everything’s fine. See? No need to cry.”

      Finally, she just blurted out, “Do you think I’m a prude?”

      “No! My uncle called you a prude? I’ll kill him—”

      She shook her head, tears falling in earnest. “No, my aunt Gladdy did the other day, right before I ran into Leo and almost hit him. And I thought about it, but I didn’t really think it was true. But today…today, I wasn’t sure anymore.”

       Oh, God.

      What had Leo done? What had Jane seen from those bushes to have her thinking she was a prude?

      Ooh. Ick. This was like teenagers walking in on their parents having sex.

      Jane was sobbing now, and Wyatt was thinking he probably wouldn’t be too out of line if he just kissed her until she stopped. It wasn’t as if he’d had many opportunities to grab Jane and kiss her, when he didn’t think she’d maybe slap him for trying. But she was genuinely distressed now and kissing was a great distraction, he reasoned. Maybe taking advantage of the situation, just a little, but he felt certain he could stop her crying, and that was what was important. Wasn’t it?

      Poor thing had been attacked by a bush, called a prude and seen God-only-knows-what that had left her in this condition. Serious comforting was in order, Wyatt calculated.

      He took a seat beside her and then just lifted her onto his lap.

      Her eyes flew wide open, and she looked at him as if she wasn’t quite sure what was up and that she might need to protest. He’d been right to be wary. Kissing her right now was not a good idea.

      “It’s okay, Jane,” he said softly, then urged her to let herself lean on him, put her head on his shoulder.

      She sat ramrod straight on his lap, stubborn to the core and resisting with all she had. She might just tell him she didn’t need comforting, and if she tried that, it would be all he could do not to laugh. It would be such a ridiculous assertion, but he could imagine Jane trying to make it.

      “Just for a minute,” he suggested. “I won’t tell. If anybody ever asks, you’re the toughest woman I know. I’ll swear to it.”

      She sniffled again and finally, ever-so-slowly, settled herself against him, her head falling to his shoulder, her sobs leaving her whole body shaking.

      Wyatt closed his eyes and let his face find its way to her hair, inhaling the scent that was Jane, taking in the warmth of her body, the softness of her, the satisfaction of finally having her in his arms.

      He was going to get her on her back on this couch and kiss her before this was over. He promised himself. As soon as she stopped crying.

      So he stroked her hair, her back, promised her that everything was going to be okay. That he would handle anyone who said mean things to her and make it clear that they were never to treat her badly again.

      Her head popped up off his shoulder and she sat up straight on his lap again. “I can’t believe they called me that name!”

      “I know,” he agreed. “I’m sorry.”

      “That’s one of those awful labels people use against women, to try to rob them of their power by taking a dig at their femininity. It’s patently unfair. Especially when it comes from another woman. Especially a woman who’s supposed to love me!”

      A woman? Well, at least it wasn’t Leo. But still.

      “Your grandmother?”

      “No, Gladdy.”

      “She loves you, Jane. You know she does. She’s just…old, and it’s like old people think that their age comes with the right to be as outrageous, as demanding and as stubborn as they please.”

      “Yes! I take care of her and Gram. I try really hard to take good care of them, and be a good girl. I mean…a woman. A good, responsible, hard-working, intelligent