Page 69 of Quarter Miles (Runaway 3)

I’d realized, standing in that hotel room, there was a re

ason I constantly bought Kat trinkets and gifts and chocolate bars. When I saw something that would bring a smile to her face, I had to have it.

Just because.

Just because.

Just. Because.

Just because I was in love with her.

After shaking off my epiphany, I’d flown into action, packing while leaving a panicked message on her voicemail. Since then, I’d left six more and ten texts, none of which had been returned.

Damn, I was a fucking idiot, though idiot wasn’t strong enough a word. Once I got Kat back—and I was getting her back—she could call me every awful thing from prick to asshole to douchebag that popped into that gorgeous head of hers and I’d agree with them all.

If she wanted to take a job in Oregon, then Heron Beach would be our home. I’d give up the ranch, the horses and that life, because she was worth it.

My mother had always told me the reason our ranch worked was because every generation had tackled it as a team. Granddad and Grandma. Mom and Dad. Easton and Gemma. They worked it together because that was what made it special. A partnership. Two halves making a whole.

And at the moment, my other half was nowhere to be found.

This time, I wasn’t going to find Kat in the café or on the beach. She’d packed her bag and was either at another hotel, far away from me, or she’d hauled the Cadillac out of valet and was on her way to . . . anywhere. So I’d checked out of the room, then asked this clerk to find out if the Cadillac was still parked.

Had he gone to the parking lot or garage or wherever the hell they kept the cars to check himself? How hard was it to find out if a ticket had been claimed for a goddamn car?

Beside me, a couple laughed as they checked into their room. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Honeymooners. They’d been telling anyone who’d listen.

That should be me and Kat. We should be the ones kissing and smiling and anxious to get behind a closed door to strip our clothes off.

I dragged a hand through my hair. Come on. Come on. What was taking so long?

My eyes were glued to the door where he’d disappeared. My foot tapped on the floor. If they’d just tell me where they parked the cars, I’d go find out if the Cadillac was there myself.

I dug my phone from my pocket and checked again for a message from Kat. Nothing. Where was she? Maybe this clerk would give me Aria’s number. Had Kat told her where she was going? Were they together?

The door opened and I held my breath, but instead of the clerk, fucking Mark Gallaway emerged, wearing the same suit and smug grin he had in the café. Didn’t that guy have a corner office to lurk in?

“Mr. Greer.” He came around the desk, hand extended.

I shook it with a tad too much force. “Mr. Gallaway.”

“Have you been helped?”

“Yes.” By your impossibly slow staff. I should have been out the door ten minutes ago.

“Excellent. Enjoy your stay.” He turned and took three steps away, his polished shoes clicking on the floor.

I wanted to watch that guy disappear and never see him again. I wanted to say fuck Mark Gallaway, I didn’t need him to help me find Aria. But my pride was in tatters. It had been ripped to shreds by the five-foot-one woman who owned my heart. And above all else, I wanted her back.

“Wait,” I called to Mark’s back.

He turned and raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

That son of a bitch knew where she was, didn’t he? “I’m looking for Kat. Have you seen her?”

“I have.”

I gritted my teeth. “And where was that?”