Page 2 of Will to Run

Because I’d followed traditions and slept at Quinn’s the night before, most of my vitally important stuff was already at her house. But regardless, in a rush, I grabbed whatever I could that was lying around the penthouse, including the bracelet, left the ring, and snuck back out, calling Quinn on my way back to explain everything.

In true best-friend form, she met me outside her house with my suitcase, snacks, and money, and encouraged me to go west to her hometown instead of east back to Chicago. Knowing I had a destination where I could land in until I figured out what I wanted to do about everything was clutch. Then she went above and beyond, volunteering to deal with the fallout.

So after that, I took off. It’s hard to have the kind of picture-perfect wedding the Worthingtons were after if there’s no bride.

2

JAXON

It’s a hot one today. Mid-April usually brings a high of sixty, but today the temps are soaring. The kicker? It’ll snow next week. I picked a hell of a day to work on this car. It’s just a personal project, and I know it won’t be complete before we hit the high season when my spare time disappears, but I’ll make as much headway as I can today. Even though it’s not open to the public anymore, my Uncle Stan’s mechanic garage is still my favorite place to be. While my brothers and sister preferred to spend their days at the ranch, I lived at the shop. When the time came, I stepped into my role at our family’s ranch pretty seamlessly, but in my free time, I’m tinkering here, or in the house behind it that my uncle still owns, but doesn’t live in anymore. It has always been a little hideaway for me when I need some breathing room.

“Hi, um… excuse me. I was wondering if you could help me put chains on my tires?” The voice barely registers as I’m tightening my hundredth screw. No wonder Uncle Stan got carpal tunnel.

I don’t even look up because it’s my good friend’s ex. Though it’s a bit muffled under the hood, I can tell the sound of her voice. God, I despise her for many reasons.

“No one can help you. Get out of here.”

Silence. And then, a throat clears. “That’s what I’m trying to do. Can you really not help me?”

“Get off it, Cherry. Find someone else,” I snap back, agitated that she’s here in the first place, but then I process the voice… there’s an accent I didn’t initially pick up on because my head was buried so deep.

“But I’m not Cherry,” the mystery voice says, and I stand up so quickly that my head bangs on the roof of the hood.

“Oh shit, I’m…” I lose the ability to speak when I see her, and my mouth gapes open. No, this certainly is not Cherry. Instead, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen is standing in front of me. Something about her is off because her chestnut hair is done up in some ultra-fancy hairstyle, but she’s wearing a white button-up and yoga pants. I can’t figure out what that’s about, but it doesn’t stop me from discreetly tracing my eyes up and down her body. Her curves are the kind people write about. What a fun surprise to have someone so mind-bogglingly stunning end up in my parking lot. “I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else,” I find the words to finish my sentence.

“It’s fine,” she replies, eyeing me back with narrowed lids.

“So, what did you say you needed?” I ask, wiping my hands on a towel and throwing it over my shoulder.

“Um… so… I bought these,” she holds up a bag, “and I don’t know how to put them on. I tried to read the instructions and…” Her eyes meet mine again, and she shrugs.

I hear her accent prominently now; she’s not from around here, not even a little. Adding to that, a quick look at her tires and the chains she bought assures me this woman has no idea what’s going on.

“Where are you headed?” I ask.

She takes a breath and looks around as if someone will hear her. We are on the outskirts of tiny Amberheart Valley. I can’t believe she even found this garage, much less thinks someone will hear her.

“Driggs. It’s in Idaho.”

“Oh no, darling, not tonight, you’re not,” I chuckle. Driggs isn’t a tourist town; it’s the first town on the other side of the mountain with a population of less than a thousand. Why the hell does this bombshell want to go to Driggs?

“Excuse me?” she shoots back, not caring who hears her now.

“Look, there are a couple of things wrong with what you’ve got going on right now. First, those chains aren’t fitting your tires; they’re suited for a truck my size, but even if you had the right ones, you’re not getting through tonight.”

“Look,” she mimics my words. “I have to keep going. Can you help me or not?” She looks around again as if someone is watching her.

“I don’t think you understand what’s up there. It’s a late-season snowstorm that will make it impassable: blizzard conditions, flash freeze, ice. You aren’t going to outrun it in that little SUV. Hell, my Ford 250 would struggle. There is a zero percent chance you’re making it through Teton Pass tonight.”

She looks at me with the saddest, most defeated eyes I’ve ever seen. What the hell is happening?

“Are you okay?” I ask, looking behind her to see if someone is following or something. “Why the rush? What’s waiting for you?”

Those broken eyes bore into mine, and a silent tear escapes as she shakes her head ever so slightly. Now that I’m looking more closely at her face, I see the telltale look of someone who has been crying. Her eyes red-rimmed and swollen. This woman doesn’t owe me an explanation at all, but if she has something unmissable, maybe we could figure something out. It makes the most sense to wait, but I could try to detour her through Yellowstone, I guess.

Her head just shakes at me as if she’s having a conversation with herself before she wipes another tear.

“I’m Jaxon,” I wave, realizing we haven’t exchanged names.