Page 11 of Wild Highway (Runaway 2)

She doesn’t hate me.

I could leave right this minute and feel like this trip had been valuable. But I wasn’t going to leave. I was going to have dinner with my friend and hopefully rekindle a relationship I’d once held dear. My feet were practically floating as I descended the stairs.

Carol wasn’t at the front desk, so I opted to head outside and collect my suitcase. I opened the door, a smile still on my face, and collided, headfirst, with a wall of muscle.

“Oh, sorry.” I looked up and my heart stopped.

The smell of leather and aftershave filled my nose. I looked up to see a pair of dark brown eyes hooded by long, onyx lashes. I took in the straight nose, the sharp jaw and strong chin. My gaze dropped to the full lips I’d tasted once, on a night eleven years ago.

I’d never seen a face as symmetrical and so beautifully masculine as Easton Greer’s.

Even when he scowled, like he was now, it was a wonder.

He’d gotten even more handsome. How was that possible? He’d transformed from a young man to just a man, man. Rugged and rough and sexy.

“Gemma.” My name came out as a growl in his deep voice and I tore my gaze away from his mouth, taking a step back.

r /> “Hi,” I breathed, the air heavy and thick.

He took a step away, then another, his glare unwavering.

Easton cast his scowl over his shoulder and spotted the Cadillac. “That yours?”

“Yes.”

“You’re staying here.” Not a question. An accusation. If he had it his way, I’d be uninvited.

I lifted my chin. “Yes, I came to see Katherine.”

His jaw ticked. “I thought we’d gotten rid of you years ago.”

Ouch. I guess he was still pissed about that whole sex in his room and waking up to find me gone.

But, good or bad, he hadn’t forgotten me.

Chapter Three

Easton

What the fuck was she doing here?

I stormed through the wide, open barn door and kicked a clump of dirt. “And who the fuck is bringing dirt into my barn?”

I looked around, spotting a four-wheeler parked in the middle of the space that hadn’t been there ten minutes ago. Its wheels were caked with mud. Someone—my grandfather—had probably been driving it around the lower meadow. We’d had a good rain last night and the ground was soggy.

Sure enough, Granddad emerged from behind the tractor at the far end of the building. He had a travel mug in one hand and a wrench in the other. “What’s crawled up your ass this morning?”

“We just swept out this floor.” I pointed to the four-wheeler. “Maybe next time you could park it outside. Save my crew from doing cleanup twice.”

“It’s a barn, Easton.” He frowned. “And in my day, the crews didn’t have much time to sweep.”

My day. For fuck’s sake. The last thing I needed this morning was a lecture about how this ranch had been run in his day.

I clenched my fists and kept my mouth shut before we got into a fight that would have my father playing mediator, my mother reminding me to have patience and Grandma lecturing me about respect.

The bottom line? I’d been put in charge of this ranch but Granddad hadn’t read the memo.

He reminded me daily of how he’d done things in my day. He’d done the same to Dad when Dad had been running the show, though it had never bothered my father the way it irked me. Maybe because Dad and Granddad usually were of the same mind.