Her Wildest Wedding Dreams. Celeste Hamilton

he muttered. “I see a pathetic woman acting like a child. If you wanted out of your father’s house, all you had to do was go through the door.”

      “It wasn’t that simple.”

      “He chained you up? Beat you?” Noah glanced down at the dog she clutched like a lifeline. “Did he threaten to kill your dog if you tried to leave?”

      She blanched. “Of course not. He’s not a monster.”

      “Then why all this drama? Sneaking out. Stowing away with me.” Noah regarded her with disgust. “It sounds to me like you’re just a little child who likes to play games and create big dramas so Daddy will come racing in.”

      “You couldn’t be more off-base.”

      “Just do everyone a favor and get some therapy to deal with your daddy complex.”

      Olivia had never in her life wanted to hit anyone like she wanted to punch this big, sanctimonious man. She settled for grinding her foot into his.

      Shouting a curse, he released his grip on her, and she ducked away. She’d be damned if she would stand here and let him pronounce judgments on her actions. He didn’t know her life, didn’t understand the forces at work between her and her father.

      Noah clearly had other ideas. He hobbled around the truck and stopped her just as she was dragging her bag from the passenger seat. “Where do you think you’re going?”

      “I’m absolving you of any part in my ‘little game,”’ she retorted. “Thank you and goodbye.”

      “Too late for that. What’ll I say when the police or your father’s private security force track me down and haul me in for questioning?”

      “I don’t care.”

      “And if they decide to throw me in the pokey?”

      She made an impatient sound and stalked around the front of the truck. “Now who’s creating a drama?”

      He took hold of her arm again. “Just shut up and get in the truck.”

      “No!” She jerked her arm from his grip. “I’m not going back. If you try to force me, then you really will be in trouble.”

      “Get in the damn truck.” Without waiting to see if she would comply, he swooped in and picked her up.

      Olivia was too busy hanging on to a hysterically yapping Puddin’ to fight Noah very hard. She cursed him instead, calling on each and every one of the limited number of obscenities she knew. Then she repeated them again.

      He was trying to maneuver her and the dog toward the passenger door when a patrol car sped by on the road.

      “Oh, hell,” Noah muttered as the car slowed.

      The car turned down a road to the right.

      “Maybe they didn’t see us,” Olivia murmured. “Yeah, right,” Noah agreed sarcastically. “This big, white horse trailer is hard to miss. Especially with the two of us in hand-to-hand combat here on the side of the road.”

      “But they might not even be looking for us.”

      The words were no sooner out of her mouth when the sound of sirens split the air.

      The next few moments unfolded like a slow-motion scene in a movie. Three police vehicles—state patrol and sheriff’s—descended one after the other, brakes screeching, raising clouds of dust and gravel. The female officer from the diner was the first to bail out of her vehicle and crouch behind her open car door, calling for Noah to put Olivia down.

      Dazed, Olivia said, “They’ve got guns.”

      A white line around his mouth, Noah glared at her.

      Then she landed in a sputtering heap in the dust.

      Noah stepped over her and advanced, hands held high, toward the officers, calling out, “She’s Roger Franklin’s daughter, but I’m not a kidnapper. Just take her away. I beg of you, take her away.”