Reid's Runaway Bride

She saw it on the dog’s collar.

A tiny envelope. She touched it, feeling a small circular object. Oh, no. He couldn’t have … Her engagement ring.

Daisy opened it and a riptide of emotion engulfed her. Damn Reid for this visceral reminder of how much she’d loved him.

“Daisy.” Reid’s voice came from behind, evocative and sensual. “Once upon a time, a boy loved a girl and promised her the world. The girl accepted, returned the promise, and they were to live happily ever after.”

Before she could inhale another breath, Reid’s hands were on her shoulders. “Nothing has changed, Daisy. I still love you and I still want to give you the world.” His arms came around her. “All you have to do is say yes …”

* * *

The Colorado Fosters: They’d do anything for each other … and for love!

Reid’s

Runaway Bride

Tracy Madison

www.millsandboon.co.uk

TRACY MADISON lives in northwestern Ohio with her husband, four children, one bear-size dog, one loving-but-paranoid pooch and a couple of snobby cats. Her house is often hectic, noisy and filled to the brim with laugh-out-loud moments. Many of these incidents fire up her imagination to create the interesting, realistic and intrinsically funny characters that live in her stories. Tracy loves to hear from readers. You can reach her at [e-mail].

This story is dedicated to a person who has become very important in my life. Thank you for your kindness, compassion, and seemingly endless support. I am eternally grateful.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Excerpt

Prologue

Less than two hours ago, Daisy Lennox had stood in front of her bedroom windows and breathed in the fragrant scents emanating from her mother’s flower garden. The softest of breezes whispered against her cheek with the promise that Steamboat Springs, Colorado, would be blessed with a beautiful spring day. A perfect day, in fact, for a wedding.

For her wedding.

She’d closed her eyes and savored the anticipation, as the excitement strummed through her body. By nightfall, she would be Mrs. Reid Foster. It seemed...incredible that this day had finally arrived, that her dreams were so close to becoming reality.

Falling in love with Reid had happened naturally. Effortlessly. He’d been a part of her existence for almost as far back as she could remember, even if it had taken an absurd amount of time for him to view her as anything other than his best friend’s little sister.

Once he had, though, neither of them questioned their connection. And when he’d proposed last year, on the evening of her graduation from the University of Colorado, she’d accepted without hesitation. She couldn’t imagine her life without him.

With Reid, she felt whole. Reid’s love chased off the persistent sensation of not belonging, of not fitting in, of being the odd person out, that she’d battled since childhood.

So, yes. When Daisy had awakened to sunny skies and a warm, fragrant breeze, with hope and delight bubbling in her veins, she had zero reason to believe that anything would—or could—interfere with her pure, soul-deep certainty of the future.

Unfortunately, fate had other ideas.

A broken, emotional confession from Daisy’s mother had shifted everything she’d ever known to be true into a new reality. This—the story her mother told—was the fodder for bad television, and not the life of a woman who was about to be married.

None of this could be real. Yet...somehow, it was.

Emptiness, engulfing and complete, overtook her prior joy. Her breaths came in jagged gasps and her body shook as she attempted to process the unimaginable.

“I know this is a shock,” her mother, Clara Lennox, said. She wrapped her arm over Daisy’s shoulder and drew her close. “Are you okay?”

Okay? No, she was most definitely not okay. She pulled free from her mother’s grasp, and as if on their own accord, her fingers reached for the wedding gown she’d laid out on her bed that morning. She crumpled the silky fabric in her fist and tried to bring Reid’s face, his voice, his very presence, to mind. Tried to sink herself in his love for her, in hers for him.

“That was a silly thing to ask. Of course you’re not okay,” Clara said. “How could you be? But...do you think, once this settles some, you’ll—”

“Settles? I can’t imagine any of this settling in the near future.” Or ever.

“I understand. I’m sorry for this, sorry for...all of it.”

Lifting her chin, Daisy looked at her mother. Her pale blue eyes were puffy from crying. Her fiery red hair—so like Daisy’s own—had been nervously tucked behind her ears while she’d slowly, word by word, shredded the strands of Daisy’s identity.

On the morning of her wedding.

“Why today? Why not yesterday or six months ago or when I was ten?” Daisy pushed out the questions, still unable to fully comprehend the magnitude of her mother’s confession. “Why would you wait until what is supposed to be the happiest day of my life to tell me that...that—” she swallowed the sobs choking her throat “—I’m not the person I thought I was?”

“You are exactly the same person you have always been.” Sighing, Clara ran her hands over her face. “But I shouldn’t have waited for so long. I should have—”

“No, Mother. You shouldn’t have waited until my wedding day to tell me that I’m the product of an affair!” Selfish. Wrong to feel this way, perhaps, but this confession and the timing of it came off as selfish to Daisy. What did this do for her now, other than cause inexplicable amounts of pain and confusion? Not one damn thing. “How could you do this to me?”

“I waited too long,” her mother repeated. “I didn’t mean to, darling. I just couldn’t ever seem to find the right words or the right time or...I kept hoping your father would—”

“Which father?” Daisy’s anger rolled in, coating the rest of her spinning emotions. “The man who raised me or the man I didn’t even know existed until now?”

Clara reeled back, as if Daisy’s words held the physical force of a slap. “Charles Lennox. The man who raised you. The man who accepted you when I admitted my...mistake to him.”

“He has never accepted me,” Daisy whispered. “And now, I know why.”

“You’re wrong. He loves you.”

“Then why isn’t he sitting here with us?”

“Because your father...that is, we decided this should come from me.”

Not a surprise. If there was one aspect of her father’s personality that Daisy understood, it was his reluctance to become embroiled in emotional scenes. Even so, she wished her father had chosen to be here, to offer his support, to give his assurances that he loved her, that he considered her his daughter through and through, and that he always had.

More than a want. She needed to hear this.

In that moment, though, with the glorious May sun dappling across her bedroom floor, Daisy didn’t fool herself into believing she’d ever hear those assurances from Charles Lennox. If he hadn’t been able to do so before, he certainly wouldn’t today.

She’d always ached to have the close relationship with her father that her older brother, Parker, did. Over the years, she’d convinced herself that her father simply had more in common with his son than he did with his daughter, and that their relationship, while often distant and cool, had absolutely nothing to do with her. Some men, as her mother consistently said, related better with their male offspring. Some men just weren’t able to develop a close connection with their daughters. And this belief, as much as it hurt, had also offered relief.

But this new information, the obvious absence of her father, along with the history of their relationship, painted an altered picture. One that stung in deep and intrinsic ways. She was not Charles Lennox’s daughter; she was the product of an affair. What could she possibly mean to him, other than providing the visible proof that his wife had cheated?

In heartbreaking clarity, this understanding answered every question she’d ever had. It explained the distance, the awkward hugs and the lack of pride or enthusiasm whenever Daisy accomplished something. More than anything else, though, this knowledge brought an undeniable logic to her father’s unwillingness to...love her the way he loved Parker.

Hell, she wasn’t sure she could blame him.

“He isn’t even in the house right now, is he?” she asked.

“He...thought we should be alone for this conversation.” Clara let out a short breath. “But he said he’ll return in time for the wedding.”

There was more her mother wasn’t saying. The truth of that was written all over her expression, in the tight way she held her body, in the subdued manner in which she spoke. And with sudden, sickening insight, Daisy thought she understood what that something was.

“Oh, my God.” Nausea lurched in Daisy’s stomach. “After twenty-three years of being my father, he doesn’t want to walk me down the aisle, does he? That’s why he isn’t here. That’s why you had to tell me today. He insisted, didn’t he?”

“He’ll change his mind,” Clara said quickly, still not looking at Daisy. “I...hope he’ll change his mind once he sees that you won’t view him differently now that you know.”

“He won’t change his mind.” This knowledge sat inside Daisy with total certainty, and somehow, the realization was more defeating than the rest. “You know it as well as I do.”

Clara faced Daisy. “I know he loves you.”

“I’m not sure I’ve ever believed that.” Squeezing her eyes shut, Daisy attempted to slow her breathing, to quiet the stirred-up emotions. “Who is my father?”

“Charles Lennox,” her mother said stubbornly.

“I wish that were the case.” Daisy crumpled the silky fabric of her wedding gown tighter and asked again, “Who is my father?”

Releasing a sigh, Clara said, “What do you want to know?”

“Does he know about me?”

“No. It... We didn’t have an actual relationship. Like I said, he was someone I dated in college. I...I knew him before I met Charles, and he was just passing through. Your fath—Charles was out of town so often, and your brother was so little. I was lonely, Daisy. And—” a small sob broke through “—I made a mistake.”

That last statement carved into Daisy’s heart with the force, the sharpness, of a samurai sword. All she heard was that she was the mistake. Not the poor choice her mother made in the heat of the moment, not the one-night stand itself, but that Daisy’s very existence was some horrible blunder that could never be corrected.

Unaware of her distress—or, perhaps, just too lost in the past—her mother kept talking, repeating much of what she’d already said. This time, though, Daisy listened to every word, every nuance, every hesitation, and as she did, her sense of self—the person she believed herself to be—slowly and painfully disintegrated. None of what her mother shared eased the agony or the chaos or filled the gaps within. She didn’t know who she was. Not really.

“Thank you,” she said, interrupting her mother in midsentence, having heard enough. “I need to be alone. I need to think. I need to... Just leave for now. Please.”

The second that Clara exited the room, Daisy curled up into a ball and allowed her tears free rein. They exploded from deep inside, ravaging through her body with a ferocious intensity. When they stopped, she lay motionless, trying to find meaning in that which held none. Despite how hard she searched, there was nothing to grasp on to for strength, for stability.

Desperate and alone, she thought of Reid and how his love had always given her that strength and stability, a sense of wholeness and security. How just being near him brought all the shady, uneven areas of her life into focus. He made her...real.

And God, she loved him. She did. But the rest of her world had ceased to exist—at least, the world she’d always known, had always believed in—and what remained seemed cloudy and off-balance and without oxygen. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t see the rest of today, let alone tomorrow or the next day or the one after that.

The sudden, frantic need to get away, to find a place she could breathe, hit her hard. No, no, no. She couldn’t do that...couldn’t leave Reid and the future she’d craved for so long. How could she do that? He made her real. Who would she be without him?

From the moment they became a couple, she had done everything in her power to show him that she could be exactly the woman he thought she was...the woman he wanted her to be. And unlike with her father, she’d succeeded with Reid. She didn’t have to fight so hard to gain his acceptance, his affection or his approval.

Really, all she had done was follow the path he’d created, whatever that path was, whether that meant her—their—choice of colleges, the timing of their engagement, their wedding date, even the details of their wedding. Reid made everything, from the smallest hurdle to the largest, easy. He knew what he wanted, and Daisy loved him, so she wanted what he did.

Didn’t she? Of course she did. Of course.

Another series of breathless sobs broke free. She wrapped her arms around her legs, pulling them closer to her chest. With Reid, she would always know who she was, where she belonged. She would never have to guess or struggle...or...

Oh, Lord. No. Just...no.

One by one, memories jabbed into her consciousness, forcing her to confront the impossible. Throughout her life, she had attempted to become the daughter she believed Charles Lennox wanted. She’d formed her decisions, her interests, around him. And she had done so for the specific purpose of creating a loving relationship with her father.

Now she understood why she had continually failed. But with Reid, she hadn’t failed. They were to be married that very afternoon. In front of family and friends, but without her father by her side. In a wedding ceremony that Reid had planned from beginning to end, without Daisy uttering one word of complaint or offering her opinion.

She would simply sit back, nod and smile. Happy to do whatever he wanted, however he wanted. Not his fault, she knew, but hers. He was, for all intents and purposes, a force of nature. She had grabbed on to his energy, his strength of will, and let the tide carry her.

By doing so, she had become the woman Reid Foster professed to love, and with that love came definition. An identity. She was his girlfriend, his fiancée, now...soon, his wife. Maybe in a year or two or three, the mother of his children.

Who would she be if she hadn’t muted herself for her father, for Reid? Would Reid even love her if she hadn’t morphed into the woman she believed he wanted?

An unrelenting pressure stole the air from Daisy’s lungs, shuddered through her and stifled her sobs. She didn’t know the answer to either of those questions. Didn’t know if Reid would still want her, love her, and she couldn’t see a version of herself that didn’t include Reid.

He makes me real.

But...shouldn’t she be real on her own? Shouldn’t she know who she was, regardless if Charles Lennox were her father or not? Regardless if she were Reid’s wife or not? Shouldn’t she be able to find some type of strength and security and confidence within herself?

The answer was swift and tragic and...honest. Yes.

Sitting up, Daisy stared at her wedding gown, unable to believe that she was on the cusp of making such an unbearable, heart-wrenching decision. But she was. She had.

Fresh tears filled her eyes. Oh, God...she had.

She wiped her cheeks, took in a fortifying breath, and the soothing stillness of calm certainty took control. Yes. She had made her decision. There would not be a wedding today.

Daisy reached for the phone, her intent to call Reid and have him come over. So she could explain the horrifying details of what she’d learned, of her decision and the reasons for it, the best she could, face-to-face. He deserved nothing less. She knew this.

In the end, she just couldn’t do it. Seeing him now, when her emotions were so raw, when she felt lonelier than she ever had in her life, would do her in. She wouldn’t cancel the wedding or leave Steamboat Springs. She wouldn’t be able to say goodbye.

Reid’s commanding presence, his love for her, his absolute surety that they belonged together, would convince her to ignore what her instincts were all but shouting. Far easier and less painful to follow in his wake and become his wife, than to trust her newfound convictions and...leave. Start over. Become real on her own, without her family. Without...Reid.

Even as she wrote the letter, even as she carefully folded the tearstained pages and removed her engagement ring, even as she packed her suitcase, and even as she quietly slipped out of the house she’d grown up in, she kept waiting for something—an inner voice, a sign, anything—to change her mind. To stop her from leaving the man she loved.

Nothing did.

Dear Reid,

This morning, my life shattered into a million unrecognizable pieces. As it turns out, my father is not my father, and therefore, he is unwilling to walk me down the aisle. And I don’t know if you can understand this, but this information has made me feel lost, without balance, and I need to figure out how to fix this.

I can’t believe, even now, that I have made this decision or that it feels so right. But I have, and it does. I’m sorry I don’t have the strength or the courage to tell you this in person, but I have to leave. This is about me, not you. I know that sounds clichéd and awful. In this case, though, it’s the complete truth.

My love for you hasn’t disappeared. I doubt my love for you will ever disappear, and even as I write this, I still want to marry you.... Just not today. Maybe, if fate is on our side and you can find it within yourself to forgive me, we’ll have another chance in the future. A second chance at forever.

Someday.

Please, please forgive me.

All my love,

Daisy

Chapter One

Snowflakes, plump as a cherub’s cheeks, spewed and spat in the wind-soaked air, where they whirled in a mad, frenetic dance before they dropped to the ground and coated the world—this part of the world, anyway—in a thick, icy canopy of pure white.

Why wouldn’t Steamboat Springs, Colorado, be in the middle of a roaring winter storm on the night of the runaway bride’s return? Nothing else would’ve made any sense.

Gritting her teeth in concentration, Daisy attempted to see through the blinding snow as she navigated the last several miles to her brother’s house. Truth be told, she should’ve stayed overnight in Grand Junction when she heard the weather report. She hadn’t for the simple reason that she’d wanted to complete the last leg of her journey without delay.

She’d left her home in Los Angeles at the crack of dawn, and barring the intermittent stops to walk her dog, had made excellent time. Another four hours of driving—even with a winter storm warning in place—had seemed preferable to putting off the inevitable for another day. So, with the hope that she’d beat the worst of the storm, she’d pushed onward.

Well, four hours had turned into six-plus hours, and if what brewed outside her car wasn’t the worst of the storm, then Daisy figured it was soon to come. Her only goal at this point was to be safely ensconced inside Parker’s home when that moment arrived.

Sighing, she slid to a halt at a stop sign and tried to set aside the ridiculous notion that this storm was Mother Nature’s way of warning her off, of reminding Daisy that she wouldn’t be welcomed in her hometown after close to an eight-year absence.

And really, the thought was absurd.

It was the end of February, for crying out loud, so snowstorms in Colorado were far from unheard of. They were, in fact, more the norm than not. This bit of logic, however, didn’t stop the anxiety from roiling in her stomach. Gripping the steering wheel tighter, she made a careful right-hand turn, just as the GPS instructed. How many folks would even remember her name, let alone her hotfooted retreat from the wedding altar and the man she was supposed to marry?

Couldn’t be too many, she assured herself. Out of those who happened to remember both Daisy and the details of that long-ago May morning? The majority of that group would likely be a great deal more curious about her reappearance than they would be unwelcoming.

Unfortunately, she knew what rested at the center of her unease, and it wasn’t the weather or the general population of Steamboat Springs. Nope, the reason for her pumped-up nerves and racing heart could be found in one man and one man only: Reid Foster.

The man she’d left behind.

Just the thought of seeing Reid again brought forth a slew of shivers and complicated, complex emotions. They hadn’t spoken even once since the day she’d ended their relationship and had discarded their future in favor of a quickly packed suitcase and a bus out of town.

She’d wanted to. Had damn well yearned to speak with him, to fully explain why she’d behaved so cowardly and left him with a letter, instead of an honest conversation. Months had passed before she gathered enough courage to call.

When she finally did, Parker had answered Reid’s phone. Unexpected, as Parker had lived in Boston then, but also—due to her brother’s friendship with Reid—not terribly surprising. And he’d stated that she’d caused enough damage. That the best thing she could do for everyone was to leave well enough alone and forget about Reid.

If her brother had been unkind, she might not have listened. But in truth, he’d sounded sad and serious, rather than rude and blaming. She heard his deep concern, and in a flood of self-awareness, Daisy had understood—completely—the pain she’d caused.

So, because Parker’s stance made sense and the last thing she wanted was to create any additional pain, she chose to live with her guilt and heed his advice. Good advice, as it turned out, since Reid hadn’t attempted to contact her in all of these years, either.

But now, by the sole virtue of being back in Steamboat Springs, they’d bump into each other eventually. If not in some strange, random occurrence—such as at the grocery store—then either at the hospital, where Parker was recovering from a serious skiing accident, or at the house, where Daisy would be caring for her two young nieces, Erin and Megan, in the interim.

Regardless of the specifics, Daisy felt sure she’d find Reid in her line of vision sooner rather than later. Fate would demand nothing less. And she couldn’t imagine what that scene would look like, sound like, feel like. And that meant she couldn’t prepare.

Strange, really, how in some ways, the past eight years seemed as if an entire lifetime had elapsed, but in other ways, those exact same years were no more than a few seconds of a ticking clock. Or, perhaps more accurate in this scenario, a ticking bomb.

Over those years, she’d created a life. Had made friends and figured out how to work for herself, and now made a decent living. She’d even found her biological father, had spent a little time getting to know him, only to realize that he did not hold any answers for her. Only she could provide those. And, for the most part, she had.