“You’re in good hands,” Mae says. Her head tilts as she takes in Camille’s bare legs beneath my flannel shirt, then my bare chest. “Though it looks like you know that already.”
“It’s not what it—” I stop myself, jaw tight. “She didn’t have anything to wear. That’s why you’re here.”
I set the bags on the counter harder than necessary and step between her and Camille, arms crossed.
Mae glides past me and digs through them, pulling out several sets of clothes.
“I wasn’t quite sure of your size, so I picked up several things. There’re jeans, sweaters, a jacket. Plus boots, and uh, undergarments. I even threw in some toiletries. I thought you might want to smell like something other thaneau-de-man.” She wrinkles her nose and winks at Camille. “Whatever doesn’tfit or you can’t use, just leave with Bronco. We’ll keep it on hand for next time.”
“For the next runaway bride?” Camille asks, sorting through the clothes. She runs her hand over a fuzzy rose-colored sweater and holds it to her chest.
Mae grins. “That’s right. I’m surprised you’re the first. With these guys around, I half expect to have one a week.”
Humor lights Camille’s eyes, and her lips almost twitch. “Thank you, Mae. You’re very kind.”
Gray’s sister leans closer to her and says, “I don’t think ‘kind’ is the word Bronco’s thinking right now, hon.” She turns to me, pinning me with a look that says she’s absolutely reporting this to her brother, then removes a velvet pouch from her purse and hands it to me. “The last item you requested.”
“Thanks, Mae. For everything except giving me shit.”
She chuckles. “You’re welcome. For all of it.” To Camille, she adds, “Have him bring you by The Ranch. We can have some coffee or tea and some girl time.”
“I would like that,” Camille says softly. She holds her hand out.
Mae bypasses it and pulls her into a hug. “He’s one of the best. If anyone can get you through it, it’s Bronco.”
Camille stiffens for half a second, then leans into the hug.
“Call if you need anything,” Mae says. She waves and heads back to The Ranch.
I close and lock the door behind her, then turn back to Camille. She has a stack of clothes in her hands, and if I’m not mistaken, she looks eager to wear them.
Can’t say I feel the same. Seeing her in my shirt makes the caveman part of me pound his chest.
I weigh the velvet pouch in my palm, then hold it up. “I have one more thing for you.” After searching through the weddinggown, I debated doing this. But the alternative is unacceptable. I move closer and empty the pouch into my other hand.
A delicate silver chain with an oval locket drops out. It’s nothing fancy. Sterling silver with roses engraved on the front. Worn in a vintage way that women like these days.
I hold it up for her. “It has a GPS tracker in it.” I glance at the wedding dress that’s still on the counter, then back to her. “If you wear it and something happens, I can find you.” I clear my throat. “Difference is, you’ll know about it.”
“Do I have to wear it?” she asks.
I want to say yes. The protector in me says it’s madness to let her think otherwise. But she’s had enough choices taken from her in the last twenty-four hours. Maybe longer. I can’t force this on her. If she decides not to, I’ll have to think of something else. “No. The choice is yours.”
Camille reaches for the locket and adds it to her stack. Her fingers stroke the pendant lightly. “I love it. Show me how it works.”
The relief I wasn’t feeling earlier hits me full force, like a kick to the chest.
I can’t lose her.
And not because of what happened on my last tour.
This is different.
She’s different.
CHAPTER SEVEN
CAMILLE
