Brides on the Run (Books 1-4)

by Jami Albright

  Damn attorneys. They were ridiculous. It was like watching a prequel to murder…or foreplay. The only thing they were worried about was who had the biggest package. His money was on Luanne. She was a tiny thing, only a buck five soaking wet, but he’d bet ten pounds of that was her balls.

  He stepped off the porch and made his way to the car for the only thing that gave him comfort when his world spiraled out of control—Patsy, his guitar.

  Johnny called her a giant pacifier. He smiled at the memory.

  Patsy had been a constant companion for fourteen years, his most prized possession. The best $87.50 he’d spent in his whole life. He’d written his first song with her, played her for tips when he was living on the street. When they recorded their first album, it was Patsy he’d slung across his chest and made some of the best music of his life. After Johnny died, he’d wrapped his body around her to stop the agony. She’d been with him through the best and the worst times of his life.

  He glanced back at the house and thought of Scarlett Kelly Bain. Best or worst?

  Only time would tell.

  “How long have they been here?” Luanne said.

  Scarlett picked at a hangnail and made it bleed. She pushed down on the wound with her other hand and glanced up at her friend. “They ambushed me twenty minutes ago.” She saw Luanne covertly peeking out the window again. “Luanne, I’m in trouble here. Will you stop ogling him? Tell me what to do.”

  Luanne turned from the window and didn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed. “He has a guitar,” she whispered. “Where do you think he got a guitar?” She turned back to the window and sighed.

  She actually sighed.

  “He probably brought it with him.” She pressed hard on the still bleeding cuticle. “He told me…” She stopped as another lost memory hit her square in the face.

  “I grew up in the system, so I never had a pot to piss in. The first guitar I ever bought was the only thing I owned for…well, forever. I worked my ass off, roofing houses to get the money to buy her. Her name’s Patsy,” he’d said, affection coating his voice. “I have more expensive guitars, but I keep Patsy with me all the time. I never go anywhere without her.”

  “He told me he never goes anywhere without the guitar.”

  Her heart stuttered. Gavin was someone she could like.

  Gavin made his way to the swing hanging at the end of the wide front porch. He lowered himself onto it with Patsy on his lap. This place was like something out of a Hallmark movie he’d happened upon while channel surfing in a hotel room.

  It had white clapboard siding, sturdy round columns, and pitch black shutters. A fat, lazy tomcat stretched out on a lounge at the other end of the porch. The heat made the air shimmer, but there were ceiling fans, and with the breeze it was tolerable. The only thing missing was Granny hand-churning ice cream.

  He rocked back and forth while softly strumming the guitar. The smell of fresh-cut grass floated on the air and locusts rattled in the distance. A horse whinny and a couple of mooing cows from the pasture behind the house added to the sense of peace that settled over him. He liked it here. This place was a real home.

  A tree house rested in the branches of a huge tree in the side yard, and in the distance, he could see a small pond. It was a great place for a kid to grow up. That thought led him to check his phone for a message from the private investigator.

  Nothing.

  He was strangely unconcerned about the estrogen party taking place within the house, probably because he had a bigger issue to deal with. The marriage could be resolved by signing some papers and throwing some money at the problem. The thing with Tara and the baby wouldn’t be so easy to take care of.

  The melody from his guitar mixed with the summer sounds. His fingers danced along the neck of the instrument. Lost in the music, he let go of everything and played. The more he emptied his mind and fed off the peace of this place, the more in sync he was with the notes pouring through his hands. His breath hitched and he toed the wood porch to stop the swing. Was there more?

  Sweat that had nothing to do with the heat rolled down his back. His heart faltered as he plucked a few more chords. Patsy was singing. He thought he might never hear her like this again. Seventeen months. It had been a year and a half since he’d written anything. Why now? Why here?

  Needing to capture the song, he pulled his phone from his pocket. The picture of Scarlett and him kissing came up as soon as he pressed the power button. Was she linked to this? He swiped the screen and thumbed on his recording app.

  Tired of his own thoughts, he turned off his brain and played.

  Scarlett closed her eyes and listened to the music coming from the porch. It was her favorite Wolfe’s Bain song, a ballad that never failed to break her heart. Then the familiar song morphed into one she’d never heard before. The music wrapped around her, tugging her toward him.

  Get a hold of yourself, Scarlett.

  She needed to focus. “Where’s the lawyer?”

  “That asswipe’s sitting in the car. He’s on the phone, no doubt insulting half the free world with his bullshit.” The blinds clicked as Luanne let them fall back into place. “Okay, tell me what you want.”

  “You have to ask? I want a divorce, and I want him gone.” That sounded so final. She ignored the tiny hiccup beneath her breast bone. It was for the best.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to keep him? He’s sooo pretty.”

  Gavin wasn’t pretty. She could have ignored pretty. But the sexy, thrilling, sentimental, beautifully dangerous man on the front porch was impossible to ignore. He called to her inner wild child and begged her to come and play. Even now, she could feel the little beast rattle her cage trying to get free while the humiliation of her previous escape was plastered all over the television and the internet. And her playmate sang songs on her front porch. That was not acceptable.

  “He’s got to go.”

  Luanne stared at her for a moment then nodded. “Okay. I can do that. But just one thing before we go.”

  “What?”

  Luanne rubbed her hands together. “Let me see that tattoo.”

  Gavin finished the song and stowed his phone away. The swing swayed as he slumped against it. His eyes stung like he was about to cry. What a pussy. Before he could embarrass himself, Jack appeared, cell phone in hand. “Gavin, we’ve got to talk.”

  “What is it?”

  “I just got off the line with the guys at Storm Side records, and they are not happy.” Jack pulled up a patio chair and dusted dried leaves out of the seat.

  “Why?”

  “Well, Gavin, let’s recap.” He began ticking off items on his fingers. “You met a woman in a bar. Four hours later you married her in a Las Vegas wedding chapel. Ten hours later she’s seen running from your hotel in a panic. And thirty-six hours later it’s plastered all over the media. Does that ring any bells?”

  “What the fuck do they care? I didn’t marry any of them.”

  “Gavin, they see this as an indication of a pattern of behavior. You have a reputation for being impulsive and making bad decisions that lead to negative consequences. They are not excited about investing time and money into an artist who may piss it all away.”

  “That’s ridiculous. A quickie marriage in Vegas doesn’t have one damn thing to do with my ability to make music. I mean, it’s easy enough to fix, right? We sign some papers and it all goes away.”

  “That’s not the point.” Jack gave him an are you really that stupid? look.

  “Why don’t you tell me the point, then?”

  “I assured them you’d grown up and learned from your mistakes. A week later you’re all over the news with a runaway bride you barely know.” Jack reached over to the mini fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. He took a long pull and looked at Gavin. “I’m worried they’re going to withdraw their offer.”

  “What? You’ve got to be shittin’ me.” Gavin fiddled with the gold wedding band. He didn’t know why
he was still wearing it, but he was.

  “I’m absolutely serious.”

  Gavin squashed the impulse to tell them all to go to hell, that he’d do what he wanted when he wanted. If it were only that simple, but Johnny’s letter changed everything. He draped his arm over his guitar. “What do I do, man? I mean, I can’t undo it, and it’s not like I can stay married and sell this as a legit marriage.”

  Jack stared at him. “Why can’t you stay married? There’s no law against it. It would solve your problem with Storm Side and go a long way toward redeeming your public image.”

  “Dude, are you crazy? First of all, you’ve completely lost it if you think she’ll agree to this. Have you seen how skittish she is? Second, what makes you think I’d go along with it? I mean, I don’t want a wife. You know I have a lot of shit going on in my life right now.” He laid Patsy in his lap and ran his fingers through his messy hair.

  “Gavin, when you and I first discussed a comeback, you were on a mission. You knew exactly what you wanted, and how you wanted to get it. I don’t think that’s changed.”

  No, the goal hadn’t changed. He needed gainful employment, and the only thing he knew how to do was make music.

  “Maybe if we offer her money she’ll agree.” Jack’s shark’s gaze narrowed in calculation.

  The firecracker who said she didn’t want a damn thing from them and accepted total responsibility for this mess. Not a chance in hell. “She’ll never go for it, she has too much integrity.”

  “Everyone has a price, Gavin. Let me handle it.”

  “Alright, but you might want to dial back the intimidation. They don’t respond well to being bullied.”

  Jack feigned innocence. “I’m a regular pussy cat.”

  Gavin snorted. “Yea, you’re a real prince.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ve got this.” Jack slapped Gavin’s knee and gave him a cocky grin.

  Gavin glanced at the front door of the house and chewed his bottom lip. It was likely the only thing they would get from these two women were their asses on a platter.

  Chapter 4

  “Are you out of your mind?” The words exploded from Scarlett’s mouth.

  “No, Scarlett, I am quite serious.” Jack’s voice was annoyingly calm.

  They’d moved the impromptu arbitration to her home, about four hundred yards up the drive from the big house. Still on the property, but far enough away that she had some privacy.

  The honeysuckle and lemon scents of her small, cozy gingerbread house on the water failed to sooth her as they always did. She loved this place with its eclectic décor and comfy reading nooks. It was her safe place, where she retreated from the world. Resentment burned through her at having her sanctuary invaded by these two men. Her home. Her space. Her life.

  “You want us to stay married?”

  Jack nodded. “It’s in my client’s best interest if this marriage appears as a legitimate union. His reputation is negatively impacted if the public believes the wedding was an impulsive, drunken mistake.”

  “That’s exactly what it was!” Didn’t this idiot understand anything? The urge to pound her head against the wall overwhelmed her, but she wouldn’t give this guy the satisfaction. A better idea would be to smash his head against the wall. That violent thought should have soothed her, but he kept talking.

  “Scarlett, nothing can be accomplished if you continue with these emotional outbursts. If you can compose yourself, I’ll explain.” Jack moved to the table where his briefcase lay.

  Luanne rubbed tiny circles on Scarlett’s back. “Take a breath, sweetie, and try to calm down.”

  Scarlett whirled on Luanne. “You think this is a good idea?”

  “No. I told you I would get you out of this. However, Mr. Avery does have a point. For me to successfully navigate you through these waters, you will need to stay calm.”

  “Well said, Ms. Price.” Jack had the nerve to smile.

  Luanne shot him a withering look. “Zip it, Counselor, we are not on the same side. I think your idea sucks balls, but I’m willing to hear you out. It’s in Scarlett’s best interest for me to have all the information.”

  Gavin leaned forward in his seat with his elbows on his knees. He hung his head and hissed. “This is such a shit storm, fu—”

  “Oh. My. Gosh.” Scarlett directed her fiery words at Gavin. “Do you have to use such filthy language? Seriously, you have to be more imaginative than that.” She seethed at the use of the “F” word. To her, people who used it were intellectually lazy.

  His Delinquent stare drilled into her. “I’m sorry, princess. Have I offended your delicate sensibilities? Maybe you should have thought about that before you married me.”

  “Gavin,” Jack rebuked.

  Gavin flipped him off and slumped back onto the couch.

  Anger swirled and gathered at her vocal chords. She opened her mouth to give a scathing retort, then closed her mouth. Luanne was right, she needed to be calm and get control of her anger. With a Herculean effort, she schooled her expression and turned to Luanne. “I’ll listen to what he has to say, and then I want them both to leave.”

  “Okay.” Luanne looked at Jack. “Mr. Avery.”

  “We are in the process of securing a recording contract for Gavin with Storm Side Records. This marriage comes at a precarious time in the negotiations. In the past, Gavin’s had a reputation for reckless behavior and the events of the night before last have not improved that perception. If the executives at Storm Side believe Scarlett and Gavin married after a brief courtship and with genuine affection that would go a long way in quelling any misgivings they may have about Gavin’s reliability.”

  Luanne cleared her throat. “Mr. Avery, I sympathize with Mr. Bain’s plight, I do.” She put her hand to her chest in the universal sign for my heart goes out to you. “That being said, my client should not be expected, nor is she obligated, to participate in the rehabilitation of his image. Mrs. Bain is not interested in remaining married to your client.” She looked at Scarlett for confirmation and Scarlett nodded. “We will be seeking a divorce as soon as possible.”

  Scarlett couldn’t believe this was happening. Movement from the other side of the room caught her eye. Gavin leaned his head against the back of the sofa with his hands over his face. He dragged them down to rest on his chest and stared at the ceiling. A fist squeezed her heart. He was all alone. He needed her. Unconsciously, she took a small step toward him but, thankfully, regained her senses before her foot hit the ground. He wasn’t her problem, a truth she’d do well to remember.

  Jack shoved his rolled cuffs up his arm. “Mr. Bain will not give his wife a divorce.”

  “Mr. Bain won’t have a choice. He can’t stop Scarlett from filing for, and being granted, a divorce.”

  “Maybe not, but we can tie it up in the courts and make it as expensive and painful as possible for your client.”

  “To what end, Counselor? When all is said and done, your client’s image will be damaged, and my client will be divorced. Also, I’m sure the media would love to hear what Mr. Bain has put this poor woman through when all she wants is her life back.”

  Luanne’s words faded into a rhythmic drone of legalese as Scarlett’s heartbeat pulsed in her ears. It drowned out everything but a high-pitched squeal that could quite possibly be signaling an aneurysm.

  No time to dwell on an impending stroke. There was a bigger problem to deal with.

  Her daddy was home.

  Gavin was hyper aware of Scarlett. So he knew the moment she moved toward the front door and slipped out.

  Oh, hell no. You’re not getting away this time.

  Surely the lawyers would call her back, but they were too invested in their argument. Screw it, he’d go after her. He marched out onto the porch.

  Her yellow skirt swayed as she strode away from another confrontation. “I can’t believe you’re running again.”

  Gravel crunched under her feet as she spun to face him. She shaded
her eyes from the sun. “I’m not running anywhere, Gavin. I need to talk to my father.”

  He made his way toward her. The Texas sun made him squint and wish for his Ray-Bans. “You and I are the ones who need to talk.”

  “There’s nothing to say.”

  “I want to talk to you about staying married.”

  “You’re wasting your time. It’s a ridiculous scheme, and I won’t participate.”

  He shook his head and brushed a hand over the back of his neck. “You know, Scarlett, I’m still kind of choked up from the speech you made earlier. The one where you apologized for running and said you’d do whatever you had to do to make this right. Well, staying married would make it right.”

  Her hands went to her waist, and steel daggers shot from her eyes. Why did he find that so adorable? He seriously needed to have his head examined. He didn’t do complicated, highly emotional women, but this fiery redhead had him reconsidering that stance.

  She crossed her arms and popped her hip. “I meant I’d give you a quick divorce.”

  “I don’t want a divorce.”

  “You’re insane.”

  “Probably, but I want to stay married.”

  “No.” Step.

  “Yes.” Step.

  “No.” Step.

  They were nose to nose. Both were breathing harder than was necessary. Gavin lifted his hand and ran his index finger lightly over the bruise on Scarlett’s cheek. Raw desire flared, scorched, and tore up his arm. “Does this hurt?”

  “Not too much,” she whispered.

  “I hate that I caused this.”

  “S’okay.”

  He continued to gently stroke her cheek. She allowed it for several long heartbeats. But Gavin saw the exact moment when the spell broke. Her black brows furrowed over her lids and she took a few stumbling steps back. “You’re such a pig.”