How to Switch a Groom Read online

  “We’ve got to help Kaimbrey,” she said.

  “We can’t shred your feet.” He pushed out a breath. “Why don’t you go back to the tent and wait for the authorities? They have to be coming soon, and you can tell them which way to go. You can stay safe.”

  She shook her head. “Please let me stay with you. I …” She looked down, hating to not sound like the independent, strong woman she’d worked so hard to become. “Don’t want to be alone.” She also didn’t want to slow him down, but the idea of picking her way through the deepening gloom back to the tent, and then staying there with Bull sounded horrible. What if the other men circled back there? What if Bull got free of his ropes? She felt much safer with Tate.

  Cally couldn’t bring herself to admit any of that.

  He pushed a hand through his hair and squinted into the forest. Focusing on her again, he said, “We’ve only got an hour or so until dark. If we don’t find them soon we’ll have to go back and wait for some help anyway.”

  “That means I can come?” she rushed out.

  Tate arched an eyebrow. “I didn’t think I’d ever see the fiercely independent Cally Young begging to stay by my side.”

  “Don’t get used to it,” she sassed back at him.

  Tate chuckled. “Don’t worry, I won’t.” His face quickly got much too serious. He sat down in the mud.

  “Tate?”

  “My shoes are too big for you,” he muttered, even as he was quickly unlacing them and tugging them off.

  “I’m not taking your shoes,” she protested. Too big was an understatement. They looked to be twice her shoe size.

  “But my socks will at least protect you a little bit.” He peeled his socks off, wet from his travels through the rain-filled forest.

  “I don’t want to wear your socks,” she protested, wrinkling her nose. The protection for her feet would be nice, but she had never been a fan of other people’s feet. Tate’s career was impressive to her, but she would hate being a doctor of people’s feet.

  Tate laughed. “Sorry, sweetheart, you’re not walking without something over those beautifully pedicured toes.”

  Cally looked down at her muddy, aching feet. Her pink toenails were chipped and speckled with brown dirt. “Definitely not beautiful.”

  Tate lifted one of her feet off the ground. Cally held on to a nearby tree branch for balance. Tate used the outside of the sock to wipe her foot clean. He opened the first-aid kit and quickly put ointment and band-aids over the cuts on her foot before sliding the sock on. He ran his fingers along her sensitive foot, ankle, and calf as he glanced up at her from beneath his thickly-lashed lids. How he could perform such a mundane act in such a sensual way was beyond her. Her foot, ankle, and leg tingled from his warm touch, and she forgot all about the pain in her feet or the rain dripping past her eyelashes and down her chin as he repeated his ministrations on the other side.

  When he finished, disappointment rushed through her as he hurried and slid his shoes back on and tied them. He stood, and they started walking through the forest, Tate leading the way. She hoped he was following some kind of trail. He glanced back at her. “Does that feel better on your feet?”

  “Yes, thank you. Lucky me, I have the best podiatrist in Utah with me.” Her mind was still muddied from him touching her so tenderly and her body’s reaction, but her feet definitely felt better with some protection. Though the occasional rock or twig hurt, they didn’t feel like they were penetrating through her feet.

  “Sure.” He winked over his shoulder. “My stinky socks on your beautiful feet.”

  Cally wrinkled her nose, causing a drop of rain to fall off of it. “Good thing you’re cute.”

  He whipped back to face her. “You think I’m cute?”

  “No,” she protested.

  His face fell, and she had to admit, “I mean, yes …” She pushed out a breath of disgust. “Tate! Everyone thinks you’re cute.” He was so far past cute it was a silly thing to even waste time discussing. “But I was just quoting …”

  “Colt,” they said together.

  Tate’s blue eyes darkened, and he pivoted then started pushing through the forest again.

  Cally knew this definitely wasn’t the time to talk, and she was grateful for that. She’d lost Colt because of her own stupidity, and now she was having fantasies about his brother, her childhood friend. Dumb. She kept putting one foot in front of the other, concentrating on avoiding rocks and not slowing Tate down. Finding Kaimbrey was what mattered right now. Her interest in Tate Jepson had to disappear.

  Chapter Eleven

  Tate felt badly that he was pushing Cally at a quick pace. She was only in his socks, her feet had already been beat up before he’d put band-aids and socks on them, and the rain was not letting up. She had to be miserable. Tough woman that she was, he hardly heard a wince out of her. He would’ve probably let a few choice words slip if it’d been him. He wanted to let some choice words slip right now but not because he was sloshing through the muddy forest in shoes without socks, forming some huge blisters, with water running down his face and neck.

  He was worried. No, he was terrified. He tried to act confident for Cally, but the world around them was just getting darker and wetter. At first he’d been able to follow the trail the four people in front of him had carelessly broken through the forest, but the dimmer his light got, the less sure he was that he was even on the right path. He didn’t hear any sounds around them except for the steady fall of the rain, which he was certain was getting stronger. Where was Kaimbrey? Where was his brother? Where were the stinking search and rescue and FBI?

  Cally had kept pace with him, and they’d only stopped briefly for a drink of water from his pack. He was tired, frustrated, drenched, hungry, but most of all, concerned. Night fell around them, and he kept plunging forward, swiping moisture off his face. Determination? Stupidity? Loyalty? He wasn’t sure which described his motivation at the moment. He knew he wasn’t going to find Brody or Kaimbrey or be of any help to anyone tonight. He needed to find a somewhat sheltered spot and just get through this night; try again in the morning. But if he did that, Brody or Kaimbrey might be hurt or killed while he hid in a shelter. He begged himself to think positive thoughts, but it was a tall order.

  He pushed the wetness from his hair, stopped, and turned to Cally. She ran into his side.

  “Oh!” she grunted out. “Sorry.”

  Tate instinctively wrapped an arm around her. It felt good to hold her against his side. Good? Who was he kidding? Cally being close was an incredible feeling.

  “How are you holding up?” he asked, praying she wouldn’t pull away.

  She stared up at him. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and he could make out her defined features but not the blue of her eyes. “Okay,” she muttered.

  Tate chuckled softly. “Come on, Cal, it’s me. Give it to me straight.”

  “My stomach’s eating itself at this point, I’m drenched, and I wish my feet would just fall off, but I’m fine.” She stiffened in his arms. “We need to find Kaimbrey.”

  Tate shook his head. “We can’t keep going. At this point we could walk off a cliff or walk right into the guys who kidnapped you.”

  “But Kaimbrey, Brody …”

  “I know, sweetheart, I know.” He turned toward her and brought her fully into his arms. Wrapping both his arms around her lower back, he tugged her against his chest and simply held her. Calling her sweetheart, holding her close. Both were the fulfillment of long-held dreams. Yet her quoting Colt earlier had been a reminder that Tate wasn’t her choice, no matter how he wanted to be. Her being kidnapped had made him forget some truths he’d like to permanently forget. She’d been Colt’s first, and she’d treated his brother horribly. Why did he think she’d want him or change?

  Cally let out a soft sigh and laid her head against his chest. Her arms came around his back, and she clung to him. Tate’s too-susceptible heart leapt, and he let himself believe she was tucked
against him because she felt for him like he felt for her, but it was probably more exhaustion, despair, and fear. She probably simply needed human contact and reassurance.

  They held each other close as the rain tried to get them wetter, but they were already soaked clear through. Tate picked up some night sounds of insects, but everything else was pretty quiet. Cally shivered in his arms. His heart raced as he wondered if it meant he was affecting her, but then he had to ask, “Cold?”

  “Yes,” she admitted.

  Tate forced himself to pull back from the hug and take her hand. “We’ll find somewhere to settle in for the night and find Kaimbrey and Brody in the morning.” He had no clue where he’d find to “settle in”. At least it was mid-summer, so they wouldn’t freeze to death, but the temperature could still dip to forties or fifties at night in the Utah mountains, especially with the rain. They would be plenty miserable. But maybe, just maybe, she’d let him hold her all night. Tate would take miserable for an opportunity to hold Cally close. The fact that she’d mistreated his brother for years and hadn’t even seemed to like him before he’d rescued her was pushed to a very small compartment in his brain.

  Cally blinked water out of her eyes and held tightly to Tate’s hand as they pushed on. She couldn’t see much past his strong back. She should’ve listened to him and returned to the tent to wait for help, but she had foolishly plunged on. Now they were lost, though Tate hadn’t admitted that yet, miserably wet and cold, and no help to anybody.

  Tate’s steps slowed, and he squeezed her hand.

  “What?” she whispered. Was it that Jack guy? A dangerous animal? A cliff that would plunge them to their deaths?

  “It’s just a rock overhang, but at least we’ll be out of the rain.”

  Cally nodded, relieved. It would take a lot more than getting out of the rain to make her warm again, but though she still felt guilty for stopping the search, she’d love to get off her feet and eat something.

  Tate led her slowly under the rock ledge. “Duck your head,” he cautioned.

  She obeyed, and they scurried out of the rain taking cover under the small shelter. Tate tugged her down, and she sat next to him. The dirt underneath the ledge wasn’t soft by any means but at least it was somewhat smooth, and best of all, dry. Resting her back against the rocky wall wasn’t comfortable but she still sighed with relief, thrilled to be out of the rain and off her feet.

  Tate pulled his backpack off and set it at their feet. Unzipping it, he said brightly, “Hungry?”

  Cally smiled. “Starved.”

  “Well, you’ve come to the right place. I’ve got gourmet granola bars, hard candy that will make your mouth water, and crystal-clear water.”

  Cally appreciated his attempt to lighten things. “Granola bar and water, please.”

  “Coming right up.” He fished them out of his bag and placed a granola bar and a water bottle in her outstretched hand. They ate in silence, the only sound the pitter-patter of the rain on the world outside.

  Cally downed the rest of the water bottle, and then shivered.

  Tate’s head turned to her. She could see his features but wished she could see him more clearly, see what his blue eyes were saying to her. Tate’s eyes were very expressive and very beautiful. She loved looking into them.

  He didn’t say anything, but he straightened … and tugged his wet shirt off.

  “What in the crap are you doing?” she asked, her voice breathless and full of awe. It was too dark to see perfectly, but she got a pretty clear picture of his chest, and it was glorious. Tate had been tall and thin when she’d left for Chicago. Apparently, he’d filled out, and then some.

  “We have a better chance of getting warm if we have less clothing on.”

  Cally glared at him, though she doubted he could read her objection in the dark. “Don’t even think about it, Tate Jepson,” she warned.

  Tate chuckled. “Oh, I’ll think about it,” he said in a soft, manly rumble that seemed to sear right through her. Her eyes widened, and her heart thumped quicker. Was Tate a different man than she used to know?

  His words lingered in the air between them, and Cally fought against the desire racing through her. She was a good Christian girl, and Tate Jepson knew that. Didn’t he?

  “But I wouldn’t dare ask you to undress,” he finally said.

  “Thank you,” she said primly, feeling anything but prim from the interchange they’d just had. Fire filled her belly even though she was chilled clear through and couldn’t feel her toes anymore.

  “Thankfully, your dress has very little material,” he said.

  “Tate Jepson!” she scolded. This was going to be a very long night if he kept up his suggestive dialogue. “Your momma would be horrified.”

  “You’re the one who wore the dress, sweetheart.” His voice dropped all husky and beautiful again. “Please say you wore it with me in mind.”

  “I wouldn’t admit to that even if it were true,” she threw back at him. She was a mess in so many ways right now. She knew Tate wouldn’t take advantage of her, but being alone with him when her defenses were way down, and he wasn’t wearing a shirt, didn’t feel very smart or safe.

  “I know it’s true,” he said. “Weren’t you waiting for me to pick you up for lunch when …” His voice trailed off. Apparently, he didn’t want to remember today’s events any more than she did.

  “Yes,” she squeaked out.

  “I’m sorry for teasing you, Cally,” he said in a repentant tone. “I’ll keep you safe tonight, in every way possible.”

  Cally’s heart should’ve settled. She knew what a promise from a Jepson brother meant. But their interchange still had her keyed up. She wanted him to keep flirting with her, and she wanted him to hold her close.

  Tate didn’t say anything, but he scooted closer, wrapped his arm around her, and pulled her back against his warm, perfect chest. Could he read her mind? Since her dress was a light, summery fabric that exposed her upper back and arms, she experienced the invigorating sensation of his skin against hers. Leaning her head back against his shoulder, she closed her eyes and savored his warmth and the tingles shooting through her. Ah, Tate. Who knew it would feel like this to be touched by him?

  “Better?” he whispered huskily in her ear.

  “Much,” she admitted. “You have a very … warm chest.”

  He chuckled, and it rumbled through her. “Don’t you mean tough, manly, and perfect?”

  She shouldn’t have, but she said, “All those things, yes.”

  Tate’s other hand came around her abdomen, and he cradled her close. “Do you think you can rest?” he asked quietly.

  “No. You?”

  Tate laughed again. “One thing I’ll always get with you is honesty.”

  Cally stiffened in his arms. “What does that mean?” She was far too prickly about their past, but she sensed an underlying cut.

  “Nothing.”

  “No, you don’t say a comment like that and not explain.”

  Silence fell between them. Cally listened to the rain and Tate’s soft breathing, waiting. She should probably push away from him, but his warmth wasn’t something to sneer at right now.

  “All I meant was,” Tate finally said, “you are always honest.”

  While that was true, she snapped back at him, “Too honest?”

  A few beats passed, and he said, “Sometimes.”

  “Are you ever going to forgive me for hurting Colt?” she asked.

  “Ever?” His voice was tight, and his arms around her were solid but not soft or comforting anymore. “Since it happened so long ago?”

  “Over five years ago.” Cally reminded him. “Not exactly yesterday.”

  “That would be true if you’d given him closure five years ago; let him heal. But no, the better-than-everyone Cally Young left my brother hanging for five years.” He snorted derisively. “I’ll bet you were ticked when you finally came home and found out that he’d moved on.”


  Cally pushed away from him and edged away. There was nowhere to go, unless she wanted to go back out in the rain. She pulled her knees in tight, tugged her damp dress over them, and hugged her knees to her chest. Listening to the plink of the rain, she squeezed her eyes shut and prayed. Please let Kaimbrey and Brody be okay. Please let help come soon. Please let me not strangle Tate.

  Miserable silence passed as she shivered. Without Tate’s warmth, she couldn’t seem to stop shivering.

  Tate said nothing for what felt like forever. Then, he scooted closer, lifted her off the ground, plunked her on his lap, and wrapped his arms firmly around her.

  “What are you doing?” she gasped out. Her traitorous body loved having him hold her close. The sliver of pride she had left was telling her to slap him and get away.

  “We’re both going to freeze if we don’t stay close,” he grunted out, his warm breath brushing her cheek.

  “So, this is only a selfish move?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Cally grunted. “Typical.”

  Tate laughed, but he didn’t relinquish his grip. If anything, he pulled her even closer. Cally sighed and cuddled into his warm flesh. Self-preservation, that’s all this was. She tried to sell herself on it, but she knew the truth, and it made her mad. She was weak for this man, and being in his arms was a heaven she’d never felt before. If only he wasn’t a jerk who blamed her for breaking his brother’s heart. What about her heart? She was the one alone and miserable while Colt was preparing for his marriage and honeymoon with his beautiful sweetheart of a wife. Well, tonight, Cally wasn’t alone as she was in Tate’s arms, but he was only doing it for warmth. She was definitely alone and miserable.

  Tate held Cally on his lap, savoring her trim form so close. The rough rock wall behind him wasn’t comfortable, and the hard ground underneath was just as bad, but he wouldn’t complain when his childhood dreams were coming true. Only a selfish move? Definitely.

  He wanted to hash things out with Cally about how she’d treated Colt, why she’d left, and why she’d waited five years to come back, but they’d probably just end up in another fight. He’d rather just enjoy the little happiness he could get with his dream woman. All he was going to get was this night of holding Cally in his arms. In the light of day, she would ditch him so fast his head would spin, just like she’d ditched his brother. She’d called him selfish, and that was true as he shouldn’t have let himself indulge in this moment. He loved her, but in his mind nobody was as selfish as Cally Young.