Barbara Hannay - Runaway Bride

And yet … here in the town where he’d spent his five years of high school … this sleepy little town set in the middle of golden wheat fields and dusty cow paddocks … he’d stumbled on an entirely new set of dangers. Unexpected traps.

Emotional traps … in the form of his sweet, elderly grandmother, Violet, the only member of his family who communicated with him regularly, and the one person in the world he loved unequivocally. And Bella Shaw …

Bella … of the pale silky hair, wide green eyes and lissom, almost waiflike body.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Damon propped his elbow on the car’s door frame and massaged his aching forehead. He willed himself to relax, to absorb the stillness of the countryside, the muffled buzzing of insects and the distant call of a magpie.

He’d spent the past decade in voluntary exile, first as a journalist in Singapore, then Hong Kong, and in more recent years, as a foreign correspondent. He’d been busy, constantly learning, dealing with danger on a daily basis, and he could have sworn that Bella Shaw no longer had a hold on him. She’d been his high-school crush, for heaven’s sake. Nothing more.

He’d liaised with many women since he left this town. Beautiful women. Wise, wicked and worldly women. And he’d found something to admire in all of them.

These days, he was a totally different person from the boy who’d lived here. In high school he’d still been impressionable, trying for the most part to fit in with the local kids, despite the wars at home.

Since then, he’d discovered his true calling as a loner, an observer always on the fringes, never staying in one place for too long. A man with no ties. A man who was no longer brought to his knees by the merest fleeting smile from one particular girl.

He had been so sure it was safe to come back.

It should have been easy. Dead easy. Bella was marrying Kent Rigby.

Those fateful words: ‘I do!’ A gold band on her finger. In one short ceremony Damon could close the door on his past, could free himself of haunting memories. Forever.

What irony.

Instead of burying his past, he’d dragged it with both hands into his present. Bella was still single, and he was going to be in constant contact with her, up close and personal, for an indefinite period.

Damn . Shoving the car door open, Damon jumped out. Hands plunged deep in his pockets, he paced along the narrow dirt track beside the Blue Gums fence line while the shock of the wedding cancellation reverberated through him like a string of explosives.

What had gone wrong with their wedding plans?

There’d been no sign of a problem at the bucks’ party last night. Thud .

The bucks’ party. He felt a slam of guilt like a fist in the guts. He’d been such a jerk, made a damn fool of himself. He’d fronted up to Kent, intending to congratulate the lucky groom, then he’d lost the plot and more or less questioned Kent’s right to marry Bella.

Remembering it now, Damon groaned so loudly he frightened a flock of finches in a nearby tree. What the hell had he been thinking?

He couldn’t blame the drink—that had come later when he’d realised how very unsmart he’d been.

Talk about uncalled for. He hadn’t seen either Kent or Bella in over a decade, and he’d severely stuffed his chances with her back then. He had no right to question Kent.

And yet he’d been unable to quash his doubts. He’d told himself the doubts were crazy. Unreasonable. Kent was a great bloke, an old mate. There could be no doubt that he and Bella were destined as Willara’s golden couple.

Just the same …

Damon couldn’t get his head around the idea. He couldn’t see how Bella would be happy as a farmer’s wife, couldn’t forget the way she used to joke about it.

‘Shoot me now,’ she used to say if anyone suggested she might live in Willara for the rest of her life.

Last night he’d spoken out of turn. This morning, it seemed his doubts had been spot on and he couldn’t deny a glimmer of smug male satisfaction that he was right.

But hell, look where it had landed him.

‘Damon!’

Bella’s voice brought him whirling round. She was standing at the front gate, holding a small bag that probably held spare clothes. She was ready to jump in a car with him, again, although not quite in the same spontaneous way she had all those years ago.

She was wiser now, thank heavens. Wiser and warier. And so was he.

‘Ready when you are,’ she called.

His stomach tightened.

Bella had deliberately changed into her plainest clothes—old and slightly baggy jeans, a sensible, sun-smart, long-sleeved cotton shirt and sneakers. No make-up, just sunscreen and lip gloss.

Her hair was pulled into a tight ponytail and shoved inside a peaked cap. Sunglasses finished the picture and she hoped the message was clear: she was a flirtation-free zone.

The embarrassing thing was—it was she who needed to remember this. Not Damon. She knew there was absolutely no risk that he’d start flirting with her. His focus was solely on finding their grandparents.

‘How’s your father?’ he asked when he reached her.

‘Not too bad, thanks.’

‘He coped with the news?’

‘About the wedding? Yes.’

Actually, her dad had taken the news surprisingly well. He’d talked about sparks and chemistry, the kind of fire that had, apparently, kindled his happy marriage to her mum. Bella wondered if he’d guessed that a lack of these sparks had been at the heart of her problem with Kent.

‘He assures me he’s fine now,’ she said. ‘He’s only mildly concerned about Paddy, but he thinks it’s great that we’re going to find them and keep an eye on them. Oh, and he’s hoping to see you when we get back.’

‘Right,’ Damon said with the grim reserve that seemed to have become his default demeanour. ‘Let’s hit the road.’

The sun had climbed high and Bella turned up the collar of her shirt to protect her neck.

‘Are you worried about the sun?’ Damon was blessed with a natural tan, thanks to Italian heritage on his father’s side. He frowned at her. ‘We don’t have to have the top down.’

‘I’m okay for now, thanks.’ Risk of sunburn was not Bella’s first concern today. She was worn out after weeks of tension over the wedding and she welcomed a dose of sunshine and fresh air to blow away the cobwebs.

‘I’m planning to head across the downs to the coast via Kingaroy.’ Damon dropped a folded map into a pocket on the inside of his door. ‘I don’t expect we’ll need this, but I thought I’d play it safe.’

‘That’s not like you.’

He regarded her with a steady, cool gaze. ‘I guess I’ve changed.’ After a beat, ‘Haven’t you?’

‘Yes, of course.’ In recent years playing it safe had become a habit. So much so that her life had come to a grinding halt.

But she would worry about reinventing herself once they’d found Paddy and Violet.

‘I brought a photograph of them.’ She reached into her bag. ‘It was taken at Greenacres last Christmas. I’m afraid we were all wearing silly paper hats, but you can see our faces quite well.’

‘Brilliant.’ Damon’s eyes warmed as he looked at the snap of the happy trio linked arm in arm in front of a Christmas tree. ‘It won’t be easy to ask nosy questions without arousing suspicions, but at least this photo proves that you actually know Paddy and Violet. Good thinking.’

Bella was ridiculously pleased by this small spoonful of praise. For heaven’s sake, she had to calm down. Unnerved, she looked away.

Damon was calm and businesslike. ‘I think we’re good to go. The Greenacres people have our numbers, so they’ll ring us if there’s any fresh news.’ And then he started the car.