Page 53 of Running to You

“She’s okay.”

Eliza startled at Sam’s low words. Had he seen longing in her face? Heat warmed her cheeks.

He settled a hand on Eliza’s back and steered her toward the kitchen. “Let’s just give them a minute.”

Right. Because she’d been spying on a private moment. How embarrassing.

She rounded the corner into the kitchen, where a cardboard box sat on the island. She looked inside. Empty.

“I had an idea,” Sam said, “but I don’t think it’s going to work.”

She turned to face him, leaning back against the granite countertop. “What idea?”

“We’re going to need food, and obviously I have plenty, but I don’t want to put it in a box. Assuming we’re being watched, we don’t want—”

“You think we’re being watched?”

His shoulders lifted and fell. “Don’t you? They know where you are now. The woods are thick farther up the hill. They could be anywhere.”

“That’s comforting. Thanks.”

His mouth quirked at the corner. “Obviously, we’re not staying.”

That much she’d put together when he’d told her to pack. “What’s the plan?”

“You remember my friend Colton?”

“You went to college with him, right?”

A quick nod. “He’s got a place we can borrow. And a car. We just have to get from here to there without being followed. Which is where it gets complicated.”

* * *

Twenty minutes later, they said goodbye to Daniel and Camilla and climbed into an Uber. Sam had ordered the car to take them to a bed-and-breakfast in downtown Shadow Cove, where he’d made a reservation.

But when they got there, they walked inside and then through the lobby and out the back door.

They’d decided a box—or even a suitcase—full of food would be too hard to maneuver, especially if they had to move quickly. Sam hadn’t wanted anything that might slow them down. He’d swapped her shopping bag for a backpack similar to the one he wore.

They hurried through the rear parking lot, around a corner, and through a skinny alley between two red-brick buildings. Crossed a quiet street, then went straight into another alley.

“I feel like Jason Bourne.”

Sam quirked a smile her way. “Bond. James Bond.”

She giggled. Honestly, James Bond had nothing on Sam Wright.

He stopped at the end and sent a text.

A moment later, a bright red sports car raced up and slammed on its brakes.

Sam opened the door and levered the front seat up. “Your chariot.”

That elicited a laugh. This day couldn’t get any stranger. She handed her backpack to him and slid into a backseat that had barely enough room for her legs. No way could Sam sit back there. Or really, any normal-sized human being, not comfortably, anyway.

Sam pushed the front seat back up, forcing her to bend her legs to the side. “You all right?” he asked.

“It’ll work.”