Keeping Guard

by Sandra Owens

  A woman wearing nothing but lacey white panties, a white corset, and a veil attached to a tiara was perched on a boulder, a champagne bottle held up to her mouth as she chugged the contents. He scanned the area, searching for the groom. Something white floating in the pool caught his eyes, and after staring at it for a minute, he realized it was a wedding dress. The hell?

  His gaze returned to the woman. Had she done away with her groom? Was the man in the pool under her dress? He wasn’t sure what to do, but one thing was for sure. This woman—whoever she was...a murderer?—had him forgetting his own troubles.

  She still hadn’t noticed him, and he took the opportunity to observe her. A lacy veil topped the black hair that fell around her shoulders and down her back, and the corset did a mighty fine job of displaying her breasts. Her long, firm legs were splayed over the rock as if she had no modesty.

  Of course, she thought she was alone, and realizing he was no better than a Peeping Tom, he debated leaving or making his presence known. But what if she had offed her groom? Was that why she was crying? The last thing he wanted to do was get involved in someone else’s mess, so he decided a dead groom wasn’t going to be his problem. When he got to the top of the trail, he’d call Jack, tell him what was going on, and let him decide what to do.

  Besides, he wasn’t fond of brides. He’d almost had one of those once. His had walked out on him the day before their wedding after telling him that he loved his SEAL team more than her. That wasn’t true. He’d loved her as much as his teammates.

  Brides couldn’t be trusted, especially a killer bride who chugged champagne to celebrate her groom’s demise.

  Time to do a disappearing act. He took a step back, but his movement caught her attention before he could slip away. She lowered the champagne bottle and stared at him. Blue eyes the color of the sky above, he inanely thought.

  She tilted her head as she studied him. “Are you going to kidnap me?”

  “Wasn’t planning on it.”

  “Oh.” She sounded disappointed.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I’ll be going now.”

  “You don’t have to. Just ignore me.”

  Like it was possible to ignore a beautiful woman wearing nothing but a corset. “That’s okay. Probably best if I go.”

  She lifted a foot and stared at it. “My feet are dirty.”

  “I see that.” Weirdest conversation ever.

  “You want some champagne?” She held up the bottle, showing him the label. “Only the best will do for my father.”

  “No, thanks.” If he stuck around and drank with her, his luck, he’d end up arrested as an accomplice to murder.

  “I’m a runaway bride.”

  He didn’t know what to say to that, but he definitely had thoughts. Like, there you go, just more proof that brides can’t be trusted. Then another one...at least that meant there wasn’t a dead groom under that wedding dress. That one was definitely a relief. And why was she only wearing a corset and veil, and her dress floating in the pool?

  “Do you need some help?” he finally said, hoping she said no.

  “Yeah, with this champagne. It’s not good to drink alone, you know.”

  He did know that, not that it stopped him. Why wasn’t she afraid of him? She picked up a second, still-corked bottle, and held it out to him. “You can even have your own if drinking out of a bottle my mouth has been on bothers you.”

  His gaze fell to said mouth. Negative. He’d have absolutely no problem putting his mouth anywhere hers had been. Situation dire! Time to retreat. He didn’t do brides, even ones with sky-blue eyes and lips made for kissing.

  “Come on. Don’t be a stick in the mud.” She waved the bottle like it was a red cape and he was the bull.

  Apparently, he was a bull because his feet took him to the edge of the boulder. “Why aren’t you afraid of me?”

  “Should I be?”

  “No, but you can’t know that.”

  She shrugged. “I figure the universe can’t be meaner to me today than it already has. And if it is, not sure I have it in me to care anymore.” She tipped the bottle up, chugging down more champagne like a pro.

  As much as he wanted to leave, knew he needed to put this woman and her problems behind him, he couldn’t bring himself to go. Not when tears were pooling in her eyes and her lips trembled. Somehow, he knew she was trying hard not to cry in front of him.

  So, despite hating brides, crying women, and champagne, he took the already opened bottle from her and brought it to his mouth. She was right. Daddy did go for the best. First time he’d actually liked the taste of champagne.

  “You can’t stay down there if you’re going to drink with me.” She patted the space next to her.

  Obeying, he pushed himself up. As they passed the bottle back and forth, he tried to imagine telling Jack that he’d spent the afternoon at a waterfall, drinking top-shelf champagne with a runaway bride who was wearing only a corset and veil. His friend would laugh his ass off, not believing a word of it, then say, “Good one, DD.”

  “You want to hear my sad story?” she said after about five minutes, her words now a little slurred.

  Not really. He was already on sad story overload, but he shrugged, letting her decide whether or not to share. He was a little curious, though.

  “The man I was supposed to marry doesn’t love me,” she said, then peered up at him with those pretty eyes of hers.

  “The woman I was supposed to marry didn’t love me enough.” That was what he’d finally settled on after Avery had called off the wedding. She had loved him, he was sure of that, but she’d needed all his attention on her, and that was more than he could give her.

  “She was a runaway bride, too?”

  “Not exactly. She called it off the day before the wedding.” Why was he sharing his shit with a stranger?

  “Oh, I should have done that, but I didn’t know.”

  “Know what?” He took the bottle from her and set it behind them, hoping she wouldn’t notice. She was buzzing pretty good already. Much more, and he’d have a sick bride on his hands, and that he definitely did not want.

  She waved a hand in the air, almost slapping him. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t think my father loves me.”

  “I know mine doesn’t.”

  “My mother gave me away.”

  “Mine died.” What was he about? It wasn’t that he was trying to one-up her, but he didn’t like her being sad, and maybe if she knew she wasn’t the only one bad stuff happened to it would help.

  “That’s terrible. What happened?”

  “My father killed her.” Right, he needed to shut up and stop sharing.

  “Oh my God, really?”

  “Old news. Tell me something good about yourself,” he said, needing to get this conversation away from his life story.

  Instead of answering, she burst out laughing, laughed so hard she fell back on the rock. Yeah, she was buzzing all right. She was also more temptation than he’d ever endured, lying there in her sexy corset, her breasts almost spilling out, her tiara tilting to the left, and her black hair a sharp contrast to the white veil spread out over the boulder. A disheveled princess. Even the mascara streaking down her cheeks didn’t take away from her sexiness.

  He tore his gaze away. Yep, he should have turned around, gotten in his car, and hightailed it away at seeing the shoes and stockings at the top of the trail. He didn’t even know her name, and she was getting under his skin. One positive, though. The ants had stopped biting.

  “Care to share the funny?” He couldn’t help grinning at the absurdness of it all, and that in itself was a minor miracle. After what had happened on deployment, he was sure he’d never smile again.

  Her hands flew out to her sides, and this time she did hit him, but at least it was on his arm and not his face. �
�We’ve just shared our life stories, and I don’t even know your name. How weird is that?”

  “Pretty weird, and it’s Noah.”

  “I like that name.” She glanced at where her hand was still on his arm. “Oh, I hit you. I’m so sorry.”

  Well, that was a delayed reaction. “No problem.”

  “So, Noah, I’m Peyton. Nice to meet you.” She pushed up, then held out her hand.

  “The pleasure is mine.” With a million guesses, when he’d gotten up this morning, he’d never have seen himself sitting on a rock with a barely clothed runaway bride while shaking her hand.

  “I brew beer, really great beer.”

  “Okaaay.”

  “You asked me to tell you something good about myself, and that’s it.”

  She was giving him whiplash. “I happen to like beer.”

  “That’s good. I couldn’t like a man who didn’t.” Her gaze fell on her left hand, and she frowned. “You want to know something?”

  “What’s that?”

  “I never liked this ring. Don’t you think it’s gaudy?” She waved her fingers in front of his face.

  He supposed gaudy was a good word for it. Flashy worked, too. “Got a lot of diamonds.”

  “Go ahead. You can say it. It’s ridiculous.” She pulled it off and without hesitation, tossed it in the pool to join her wedding dress. “Oopsie,” she said, then giggled.

  “Did you really just do that?”

  “Appears so. Now where’d you hide that bottle?”

  The sound of voices coming down the trail caught his attention. “We’re about to get company.” He glanced at the corset that was barely containing her breasts. Whipping his T-shirt over his head, he said, “Put this on.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re next to naked?”

  “Is that a question?”

  This girl. “Put on my shirt, Peyton.”

  “I like how you give orders. Are you that bossy in bed?”

  He could be if she wanted. He also needed to stop thinking of her and bed in the same sentence. He was a mess. She was a mess. The two of them combined...he didn’t even want to think of what kind of implosion that would be.

  Instead of arguing with her—which would still be going on when whoever was almost at the bottom of the trail arrived—he said, “Arms up.”

  Like a good girl, she obeyed. He almost wished she hadn’t since her obeying him went right back to thinking of her in his bed and him giving her orders that got them both hot and bothered. Shut that thought right down, douchebag.

  He got his T-shirt on her, the hem thankfully reaching her midthigh when two men walked into view.

  “Crap,” she muttered, then grabbed his face and kissed him.

  Chapter Three

  Peyton panicked when her father and Dalton appeared. How had they found her? They were going to take her back to a wedding she refused to participate in, and she did the first thing that came to mind. She kissed Noah.

  How that was going to keep them from taking her, she wasn’t sure, but...okay, wow! If Dalton had ever kissed her back like Noah was doing, she would be married right now and not a runaway bride.

  “Peyton Sutton, you have a lot of explaining to do,” her father said.

  Didn’t she always? And you know what? She was so tired of it. She’d proven herself over and over, and yet, instead of recognizing that she knew beers and had so much to offer, he would never give her the same respect as he would have if she’d been a boy.

  “Why the devil are you kissing that man?” her father yelled. “Why are you wearing his shirt?”

  Because you’d really be freaking out if I wasn’t. She pulled away from Noah’s lips—although she wouldn’t mind kissing him a lot longer—and put her mouth next to his ear. “Please don’t let them take me.”

  He looked at her with deer-in-the-headlights eyes, like he was trying to compute how he’d gotten from discovering a runaway bride to kissing that bride.

  “Please,” she said again.

  “Copy that,” he said too softly for her father and Dalton to hear. He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her next to him.

  Her father glared at Noah. “Whoever you are, you need to step away from my daughter.”

  “I can’t do that, sir, unless she wants me to.” Noah tilted his head and peered down at her. “Do you want me to?”

  “We haven’t finished drinking all the champagne, so no.”

  When he laughed, it sounded rusty, like he wasn’t used to that particular emotion. “She doesn’t want me to step away, so I guess I’m not going to, sir.”

  “That’s my daughter, and I’m taking her with me. She has a wedding to attend.”

  “I’m not getting married today.” Why wasn’t Dalton fighting for her? If he loved her, he would, right? Instead, he stood behind her father, letting the man who wanted a son more than a daughter fight his battle.

  Her father’s expression was one of disappointment. What else was new? “You’ve embarrassed me in front of three hundred guests, Peyton. Let’s go. We can explain your behavior away.”

  So, he was disappointed in her. Story of her life. “I don’t care about any guests, but you’re my father. Shouldn’t you care about my happiness?”

  “Of course I do. Which is why I’m going to fix this mess for you.”

  And still Dalton hadn’t said a word. Did he even care that he’d seen her kissing a stranger? When her father headed for her, she knew he meant to grab her and take her back to the venue he’d picked for her wedding. She moved behind Noah.

  “He’s going to force me to go back with him and get married,” she said.

  Noah glanced back at her, his eyes softening in a way that made her want to melt at his feet. “Not on my watch, he’s not.” He picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder, causing her to screech.

  The screech was only because he’d surprised her. Her body draped over him and her face about eye-level with his butt—the best butt she’d ever had the pleasure of having her eyes on—wasn’t such a bad place to be.

  Noah patted her leg. “You sure about this?”

  “Roger dodger,” she said, then giggled at the ridiculousness of her day. “Don’t forget my champagne.”

  He leaned over and hooked his fingers around the necks of the two bottles. “Got ’em.”

  As Noah marched past her father and her no-longer groom, she said, “You know, Dalton, if you’d ever gone caveman like this on me, I might not be your runaway bride. Too bad, so sad for you.”

  Noah’s laugh vibrated through her girly parts, the ones that just happened to be pressed against his chest. She was very pleased with herself over that because she had the impression that he didn’t laugh much.

  He carried her up the mountain as if he were out for a morning stroll without the weight of her body decorating him. How could he do that without gasping for air?

  Go ahead, girl, and swoon. Just get it over with.

  She had no idea who he was, but she did know that he had stepped up and protected her when he had no reason to. If he was a local, she should probably tell him that her father could cause him all kinds of trouble, and she would do that...as soon as she removed herself from his superpower. Because he did have one, and it was the power to make her go all tingly. She’d always wondered how it felt to tingle because of a man. Now she knew.

  Her father and Dalton scrambled up behind them, but even with carrying her, Noah was going up the trail twice as fast as the two of them.

  “Put her down right now, or I’ll call the police and report a kidnapping,” her father said.

  “I’ll deny it, so don’t bother.” Wow! If she’d known how good it would feel to stick up for herself, she would have done it a long time ago.

  She half expected Noah would drop her lik
e a hot potato at her father’s threat, but instead, he picked up his pace. Gosh, the man was strong. With her father’s and Dalton’s arrival, she hadn’t had much of a chance to appreciate his chest and count those abs—were they a six or an eight pack?—when Noah had taken off his T-shirt, but she’d had a glimpse, and oh boy. Highlight of her day.

  When they reached his car, he set her on her feet, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a car remote. After he got the passenger door open, she scooted inside, and he handed her the two champagne bottles. He jogged around to the driver’s side. Her father and Dalton made it to the top of the trail as Noah tore out of the lot.

  Peyton giggled as she waved at them. She felt like she was in a B movie, racing off in a getaway car. What an absurd day! Maybe it was because of the champagne that she wasn’t freaking out, but right now, all she wanted to do was laugh.

  “Glad someone’s amused.” Noah glanced at her. “I assume that was your groom with your father?”

  He was obviously far from amused, and that sobered her. He hadn’t asked to land smackdab in the middle of her trouble, and he didn’t deserve whatever her father decided to do. Because he would find a way to punish Noah. Gerald Sutton didn’t tolerate disobedience.

  “Yes, that was him.”

  “Interesting that he had nothing to say. Does he let Daddy do all his talking for him?”

  She shrugged “Mostly.” It was somewhat embarrassing actually. Dalton hadn’t even tried to fight for her, even when a shirtless, buff to the hilt stranger threw her over his shoulder and carried her away. She’d only known her rescuer maybe an hour, yet she somehow knew he wouldn’t have stood by and watched some strange man take off with her. “He’s the son my father never had. If I married Dalton, then he would actually be family.”

  “You never said what happened to make you decide to be a runaway bride, and I don’t really care, but did you want to marry Dalton before he did or said something to change your mind?”