Un-Hitched: A Camden Ranch Novel

by Jillian Neal

  “Ma’am? Are you okay?” Suddenly, there were hands steadying her. Large, capable hands and they were attached to a drenched button down shirt that clung to forearms and biceps that could never have come from a gym membership. Arms like that came from work, hard work. Her eyes traveled up the wet shirt and the broad expanse of masculine chest, landing on a wide set of substantial shoulders. She squinted against the rain and took in his pine green eyes shielded by the brim of a cowboy hat that diverted the water away from his angular face covered in a few day’s old beard.

  Kaitlyn stared at the most gorgeous man she’d ever laid eyes on and wondered if perhaps she’d died in the accident. Was this Heaven? Would it really storm in Heaven? Oh, my God, I can’t die. My parents cannot lose another child.

  Thoughts of her parents jolted her back from the warm hands on her hips that blocked out the cold rain. He’d said something. She couldn’t hear over the rain. Concentrate, Kaitlyn.

  “What did you say?” She stared at his lips.

  “I asked if you were okay,” he matched her volume.

  “I’m okay, but I have to get out of here, now.”

  Before he could respond, the rain turned to hail. She cringed against the icy slaps on her arms and face.

  “What’d you say?” To her shock, he awkwardly leaned in and held her against his chest, protecting her from the icy bullets striking her skin. His massive body surrounded her in warmth as he took every blow on himself. The pings of the hail played a dirge on the remains of her car.

  “I have to leave!” Her car was not going to go anywhere ever again. There was no question. But her father had access to every available Lincoln police officer, and if she was going to escape this horrible day she had to get out of there. Nana wouldn’t be able to stall him forever.

  The man searched her face. The moment he realized she was wearing a wedding gown, his mouth hung open stupidly.

  Kaitlyn rolled her eyes and tried to jerk out of his firm grasp. She only managed to stumble again, and once again he steadied her.

  A howl of wind pierced her skin, sending a shiver throughout her body. She was soaking wet and freezing.

  “I have to go,” she repeated.

  “You ain’t going anywhere in that.” He pointed to the remains of her car. “Are you running away? From your wedding?” Suddenly, his shouts were audible to her. The hail halted abruptly, and the very air surrounding them took on an eerie sense of impending doom that hung in the stillness.

  “Shit.” The cowboy had a filthy mouth. For some unfathomable reason, a sense of peace washed over her as the air around them heated and a whirl of debris and leaves from the road swirled around them.

  “Yes, I’m running away. Please, can you help me? I have to get out of here before my father and every police officer in a fifty-mile radius comes looking for me.”

  “Get in the truck. This ain’t good.”

  “I’m well aware.” Kaitlyn grabbed the bags from her backseat and accepted his hand. He helped her climb up in the truck then managed to separate their cars with one quick shove of his booted foot against her front bumper. He was up in the truck’s driver’s seat a split second later and flooring the accelerator.

  “If I tell you to get out and hit the dirt, do it. We’re in for it.”

  “What?”

  “You ever heard of the calm before the storm?” The bed of the truck skidded to the right when he took a sharp turn down a residential road.

  “Yes. Is that what this is?” Kaitlyn’s brain was still in shock. It couldn’t quite keep up.

  “You ain’t from around here, are ya?”

  “I am, actually, but it seems fairly obvious I’m having a rough day.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that.” His gorgeous eyes scanned the length of her body again. She wondered what she must look like. A half-drowned rat, probably. “You sure you’re okay? From the wreck I mean?”

  “My heart’s still racing, and I’m a little sore, but I’ll be fine.” She gingerly touched a long red scrape on her inner arm from the airbag. A bruise would be visible by morning, but it wasn’t her body she was worried about. Her body would heal. She’d been lucky, really. It was her unrecognizable soul that had her concerned. That, and the way she couldn’t stop staring at the cowboy who’d effectively become her knight in shining—no, make that dirty cowboy boots. She couldn’t quite figure out if her pulse was in overdrive because of adrenaline or because of the cowboy.

  His capable hands gripped the steering wheel and drove them out of town like a bat out of hell. She’d always had a thing for hands, and his were masculine perfection. His jaw was tense, creating gorgeous angles. She wanted to run her hands over his slight beard. What on earth was wrong with her? Maybe she’d hit her head in the wreck.

  The heater in the truck brought his scent to her lungs. Potent leather, sweet hay, and an elusive undertone of cologne mixed in the thick air and made her mouth water. Hello, Kaitlyn. You just left your asshole of an ex standing at the altar, totaled your car, and are in the middle of a tornado. Maybe now is not the best time to be drooling over a cowboy. Her brain tried to save her, but something about this man had her heart thinking things she’d never thought before, not with Seth, or any of the stupid idiots from the club her parents approved of but she did not. Not with anyone, save maybe her vibrator.

  Every centimeter of his chiseled body radiated with a profound protectiveness over her, and she didn’t even know his name. The way he’d held her close to keep the hail from harming her bare skin spread liquid warmth throughout her veins. It eased the insanity of her day if only for a minute. She couldn’t recall the last time anyone had put themselves in the line of fire, or ice as the case may be, for her. No one had ever done that. No one, except maybe Keith.

  “I’ll call a wrecker about your car when this is all over,” the cowboy explained. The rumbled thrum of his low bass voice was commanding and authoritative as if he were giving himself an order.

  Since her brain was acting completely irrationally, she wasn’t even surprised that it immediately conjured other far more sexy phrases she’d love to hear him say. ‘Take your panties off for me, baby. Spread your legs for me. Let me touch you. Let me own you.’ Never before had any man ever affected her on such a primal, sexual level.

  In an effort to get herself together, she pinched her own exposed shoulder and winced slightly at the pain. “I’ll try now. Not sure anyone can get to it at the moment, but I don’t want my car to cause another accident.” She looked up a wrecker service on her cell phone and touched the number to call but was directed to some kind of answering machine. In the middle of her message, all sound was vacuumed from the earth. The line was dead. How was that even a thing?

  “I don’t have any signal … at all.” She stared at her phone in disbelief.

  “Storm must’ve taken out the cell towers. Hang tight. We’re almost there. You’ve got a bruise on your … uh … chest there. Might need to take you to the hospital when this passes.”

  “No. No hospitals. I’ll be fine. It’s just a bruise.” So he was looking at her chest, was he? Kaitlyn couldn’t help but grin. There was indeed a light marking at the top of her right breast just above the dress.

  And his voice, oh, that deep, throaty voice, vibrated throughout her entire body. She wanted to curl up with it like a warm blanket and let it soothe her.

  Before she’d stepped out into the hellish storm, the gown had been a perfect fit. The bodice showed off her cleavage, and the long skirt draped her legs, managing to show off the curvature of her hips but disguise the thickness of her thighs that she despised. It was ridiculous, and the price was outrageous, but it had been beautiful.

  Since Seth frequently commented on her needing to lose twenty or more pounds, she wondered what the cowboy thought.

  Of course, now the gown was soaked through, torn, dirty, and, just like the rest of her life, didn’t have any real hope of returning to its former glory.

  Another split-
second glance from the cowboy came her way, but he quickly returned his eyes to the water-laden road. The impressive truck split through the racing waters with as much ease as it had bisected the hood of her car.

  Another mile flew by as he sped further outside of Lincoln. She managed a few breaths when he finally turned down a gravel driveway and stopped in front of a small, white, brick house built at least a century ago. They’d escaped.

  “You see that door in the ground right there?”

  Kaitlyn rolled her eyes. “I know what a storm shelter looks like.”

  “Good. Run.” He threw the truck into park, and they bolted for the door in the ground, bracing for impact from the wind.

  Her life, this day, her car, her wedding, it was all too much. A storm shelter a dozen miles from the country club would have to do for a hideout until the storm passed, then she could figure out how to get the heck out of Lincoln.

  The trees in the front yard bowed with the winds in an effort to knock them off their path. Once again, the cowboy blocked her from any harm, taking on the fist of a swinging branch himself as it bit at his right arm. His capable arms accepted the blow as if it was nothing and then wrapped steadily around her as a whirlwind of fresh fallen spring leaves whipped around them.

  Certain the wind itself was going to lift her off the ground, Kaitlyn clung to him as they pushed through the gale force doing its damnedest to keep them back and finally made it to the door.

  Granddaddy Camden held the door open as Grant scooted the bride down into the ground. She slipped on the ladder, and his heart leapt to his throat, but she caught herself, and he managed a breath.

  “Son, you stop by a bridal store on your way in or some’um?” Granddaddy chuckled as he secured them all inside the tiny shelter.

  “Pretty sure they sell them dresses,” Grant gestured to the ruined gown, “at bridal stores, old man, not brides themselves.”

  “Well, how do, Missuss …?”

  “Oh, um,” her shiver speared Grant’s heart, “I’m Kaitlyn Sommerville. I hit his truck. I’m sorry about that. Did I already say that?”

  Unable to hide his grin, Grant grabbed a quilt from one of the low shelves in the shelter and wrapped it around Kaitlyn’s shoulders. “You did. No harm done to my truck. Take it easy. You’ve had a hell of a day.” He settled her on some old wooden pallets that had at one time held cattle feed bags.

  “Thank you.”

  Granddaddy Camden couldn’t seem to wipe the delighted grin off his face, visible in the glow of the Coleman lantern he’d hung from the ceiling.

  “I’m Henry Camden, by the way, since you got Grant so distracted he forgot the manners his mama taught him. Let me get this straight, you hit my grandson’s truck, and instead of fuming and fussing ‘bout it, he’s wrapping you up in a quilt. Ain’t that interesting? Grant’s more rancher than even I was, and that’s sayin’ something, sweetheart. Most ranchers’d be cursing your name. You know how we are about our trucks.”

  Grant rolled his eyes just before shooting his grandfather a look that told him to sit down and clam up. “I’m Grant Camden. Sorry, I forgot to make introductions in the middle of a twister. Ignore him. He’s an old codger with a mouth the size of the Nebraskan plains. ‘Sides, ain’t no mortal man ever out-ranched my granddaddy.” He winked at her, and her responding grin made his day. “My truck’s fine. I’m more worried ‘bout you.”

  Something in Kaitlyn’s broken gaze took up residence in Grant’s musculature. She triggered protective instincts in him he was never aware he possessed. The way that damned see-through dress clung to her lush curves and showed off a rack that should’ve had its own zip code had claimed an address somewhere else in his body. Somewhere that was going to make itself known if he didn’t quit thinking like this.

  He switched his thoughts to how exactly they’d gotten where they were sitting. Whoever she’d been about to marry had done something bad enough to make her run out in a fucking tornado to get away. Bastard was lucky Grant couldn’t get to him.

  “Oh, don’t worry about me. I’m fine. Actually, thank you so much for saving me. I … uh …” she took another visual inventory of the remains of her tattered gown, “I had to get away from there. I can never thank you enough.”

  “Oh, I ‘spect Grant could come up with several ways you could thank him,” Granddaddy laughed.

  “Jaysus, Pops, d’you get into your stash when it started raining or something? How ‘bout we let her take a deep breath and relax? She don’t even know us, and we’ve got her down here with a twister beating on the door.” Besides, Grant had no interest in her thanks. For some inexplicable reason, he just needed to know that she was going to be okay. His aching arms longed to hold her again, to protect her, to shield her not only from the storm but from all life had clearly thrown her way as of late.

  He turned back to Kaitlyn, “Like I said, ignore him.”

  Her pale cheeks were the color of an autumn sunset after the recent comments. An adorable smattering of freckles made their appearance. She didn’t seem like she’d minded his grandfather’s teasing too much, but he’d embarrassed her, damn him.

  As Grant studied her, his mind couldn’t help but come up with ways to get her out of that dress. Thing looked like it weighed more than a bull, loaded down with water and completely ruined.

  With nothing better to do than imagine as the storm continued its assault, he envisioned cutting the thing off her with his Stockman, giving her a bath to wash away everything she’d endured, and wrapping her up in him. He wanted to wipe away the inky stains of mascara on her cheeks that might’ve come from the rain but he suspected had come from tears. Then he could take her to his bed and make her forget all about whoever it was that had done her badly enough to make her run.

  Damn, you are hard up ain’t’cha? His mind taunted him. He had no business fantasizing about some runaway bride he’d just up and rescued off the side of the road, but it had been far too long since he’d inhaled the warmth of a woman, drowned himself inside the sweet nectar between soft shapely thighs, and buried his every need in perfect, feminine curves. Damn it all, if he wasn’t getting desperate, and saving Miss Kaitlyn had done just as much for his hungry cock as it had his bruised ego.

  He’d been the love ‘em leave ‘em king of cattle ranchers not too long ago. Lately, he just wanted someone to talk to, someone to take care of, someone who wasn’t afraid to need him, and maybe the same someone night after night wasn’t such a bad deal.

  If he were shooting straight, which he always tried to do, he’d even admit that he wanted someone to look at him the way his brothers’ wives looked at them. Someone to share a life with. Someone to share the ranch with. Sunrises over vast cattle land didn’t mean much if there wasn’t someone soft and warm in your bed to show them to. He wanted someone to take care of, and it more than pissed him off that his brothers had figured all this out before he had.

  And he’d had it up to his earlobes with the likes of cowgirls. All they ever wanted to do was argue and then try to outride him. As much as he loved a woman with fire in her veins, he wouldn’t mind one with a sweeter side as well. His traitorous gaze made another return trip to Kaitlyn, seated nearby.

  If he wasn’t mistaken, there, in the weary fear and tenderness held in the most beautiful blue eyes he’d ever seen, was more than a hint of a brewing wildfire. He wanted desperately to kindle the blaze and then stir the flames.

  Ordering his cock to give him a break, Grant settled on the stack of pallets beside her in an effort to keep the bulge in his jeans known only to himself. The stale scent of feed and kerosene stirred in the air. Not a good sign since they were in an enclosed shelter. Grant’s body seized in warning. Ever attuned to the atmosphere around him and always someone who trusted his gut, he felt it coming.

  And there it was, a shrill howl like an incoming freight train preceded the shelter door shaking violently. The land itself sounded as if it were being severed from the earth as a whole. Th
e earth’s protesting groans were bone-chilling.

  Kaitlyn screamed, and before Grant could process anything else, she’d leaped in his lap. He was holding her, protecting her.

  “Shh, I gotcha. It’s all right,” he tried to soothe over the howl but wasn’t certain she’d heard him. She seemed disoriented. He rocked her gently, keeping her cradled in the vast strength of his body.

  Half of him pled for the deafening sound to give them a reprieve, for this part to be over with, so they could go on with the aftermath of cleaning up and starting again. He prayed his family was okay, but another distinctive, divided section of his mind didn’t want anything to happen that might make Kaitlyn Sommerville stop burying her sweet self against him, clinging to him for all she was worth. God, he just needed to show her that he’d keep her safe no matter what. He had no idea why that was suddenly his entire life’s mission, but it was.

  Chapter Three

  Kaitlyn pressed her face harder against Grant’s substantial neck and gripped his soaking wet shirt like her life depended on it. She was fairly certain it did. The sound surrounded her.

  A deluge of thoughts she wanted no part of assaulted her mind. She’d left her family back at the country club. What if they weren’t okay? No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t make out which direction the sound was coming from. People who were not hearing-impaired would lean away from scary noises. All Kaitlyn knew to do was to lean in to Grant.

  What had happened after she’d run? What would have happened if she hadn’t? Her mother would have been happy. Her father pleased because marrying Seth, the man just a few notches down from the district attorney, fit right in his plan for Kaitlyn’s life.

  Ever since Keith’s death, what Kaitlyn had wanted for her own life mattered far less than what her parents wanted for her. She’d gone along with it, desperate to erase the hollow emptiness in her mother’s eyes that had resulted from her twin brother’s last tour in Afghanistan.