Run For the Hills Read online

  Run for the Hills

  Carla Caruso

  www.escapepublishing.com.au

  Run for the Hills

  Carla Caruso

  The Belshaw brothers are back in Balkissoch...

  Bridie Porter is wearing her Vera Wang gown and veil in the back of her wedding limo when she receives a compromising text about her hotelier groom. Panicked, she tells the driver to keep going and she flees from Melbourne to the small town of Balkissoch in the Adelaide Hills.

  It’s the perfect pit-stop to hide from her ex and the press and to earn enough cash to stay out of sight. Unfortunately, the admin job she gets is for a wedding photography business and she’s had her fill of weddings lately. But it’s slim pickings on the work front in a town so teeny. And her new boss is strangely compelling...

  After the rush and adrenaline of his job as an LA paparazzo, the last place Cody Belshaw wants to be is back in the small town where he grew up. But thanks to a clause in his father’s will that amounts to blackmail, Cody and his two brothers are stuck running a wedding business for at least a month. If there’s one thing that he’s learned in LA, however, it’s to keep business and pleasure very, very separate. Which makes his new admin employee the definition of temptation.

  Bridie is desperate to stay anonymous. Cody seeks out secrets for a living. As they delve into the world of brides, boutonnières and dogs-as-best-men, both Cody and Bridie will have to decide if this is a fling...or forever.

  About the author

  Carla Caruso was born in Adelaide, Australia, and only ‘escaped’ for three years to work as a magazine journalist and stylist in Sydney. Previously, she was a gossip columnist and fashion editor at Adelaide’s daily newspaper, The Advertiser. She has since freelanced for titles including Woman’s Day, Cleo and Shop Til You Drop.

  These days, in between writing romantic comedy novels (sometimes with a touch of cosy mystery), she plays mum to twin sons Alessio and Sebastian. Her books include the ‘Astonvale’ rom-com mystery series (kicking off with A Pretty Mess), Catch of the Day, Second Chance, and Cityglitter.

  She’s also an editor of the Romance Writers of Australia journal, Hearts Talk, and has a foodie blog, www.theunitalianwife.com. Plus, she’s obsessed with running, horoscopes, fashion, upcycling vintage finds, trashy TV, and cats. Find her on Instagram at @carlacarusoauthor or @the_un_italianwife.

  Acknowledgements

  To Escape Publishing managing editor Kate Cuthbert for plucking this manuscript out of the slush-pile. Since I’ve had twin sons and less time and energy to write, I’ve felt like I’d never put out another book again, but you’ve renewed my faith. A million thank yous. And to editor Brooke Moody.

  To the ‘Tough Diamonds’ crew—Leesa Bow, Lilliana Rose and Maggie Mundy—plus Samantha Bonds … fellow writers who’ve kept me going when I’ve felt like quitting this gig. Though, why would I? It’s the best job in the world. We all know it;)

  To my twin lads, Alessio and Sebastian, for inspiring many multiple-birth characters in my stories since arriving on the scene. Your laughter and funny little lines (even when you don’t mean to be funny) constantly make me smile.

  To all the authors who kept me entertained with their tantalising reads throughout my youth and beyond, from Enid Blyton to Judy Blume—you fed my imagination and inspired me to hit the keyboard.

  And finally, to those who got to ‘the end’ of this story—thank you to the moon and back for joining me on this journey!

  To the hubs, James, for answering all my curly questions on photography and cars, and just being a general sounding board when I’m madly plotting! Your patience is a virtue :)

  Contents

  About the author

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 1

  Bridie Porter already felt out of place as she steered her 1990 Nissan Pulsar EXA up the curved, seemingly kilometre-long driveway. Her car’s khaki-green hue blended in well with the Aussie scrub surrounding the vast property, just not the vehicle’s beaten-up look.

  Through the trees, a New England-style cream country house, with a charcoal multi-gabled roof and cedar-shuttered bay windows, thrust into view, and she sucked in a breath. The place was like Anne of Green Gables’ pad, given a Million Dollar Listing makeover.

  It wasn’t the kind of grandeur she’d expected when she’d sat in that bakery, scouring the job ads in the Adelaide Hills rag and nervously picked up her prepaid phone to dial. From the postage-stamp-sized ad for the wedding photography business, she’d imagined a dusty little shop in Balkissoch’s main street or maybe a home office in someone’s shed. The biz didn’t even have a website. She hadn’t predicted this; the kind of world she’d only ever frolicked in but had never been home.

  Still, she no longer had a place of her own or much in the way of savings—keeping up with the Samantha Joneses was expensive—so she had to suck it up and get her derriere into that Monday’s job interview.

  Bridie braked at the edge of a neatly clipped, lime-green lawn, wishing she’d parked out on the street and saved herself the embarrassment of her wheels being seen. Still, at least the hasty car purchase had got her where she needed to be—far, far away from home.

  She quickly checked her reflection in the rear-view mirror and did the usual double-take at her new look. Despite getting used to her overhaul, her now ‘bronde’ waves and fringe were as neat as could be. And there weren’t any mascara smudges around her brown eyes, framed by another new buy: non-prescription tortoiseshell specs. She was good to go.

  Grabbing her cream handbag from the passenger seat, she climbed out of the Pulsar and gulped in a lungful of perfumed, late spring air. Could it really be almost Christmas, which also happened to be her birthday? She felt decidedly Grinch-like.

  On the way to the door, she passed a concrete fountain, featuring a woman statue pouring a jug. If only the trickling water soothed her. At the double-front cedar doors, Bridie hovered a hand over the buzzer, her nerves dancing triple time. Just above was an engraved plaque, which read ‘Goldlake Manor’ in cursive. As she went to press the bell, one of the doors suddenly swung back as if of its own accord.

  Bridie’s stomach went into freefall. In the entrance stood a guy, maybe a few years older than her, with tousled, sun-bleached hair, sky-blue eyes, a ruggedly straight nose, and a stubbly jaw. He was a good head taller than her, with a muscular build accentuated by a fitted dusky-blue tee and faded black jeans.

  Being greeted by an Adonis was another thing she hadn’t been expecting that afternoon.

  Though it was a millennia too soon to be checking out another man.

  ‘You must be Bridie Porter,’ the blond god said, and she had to stop from jolting at hearing the name she was going by out loud. The guy’s voice was a deep rumble, different to the one from the phone earlier, with a vaguely transatlantic accent. Another photographer?

  ‘Yes, that’s me,’ she squeaked, finding her own voice.

  ‘I saw you coming up the drive.’ Crap. The Pulsar had already been seen. The guy leant forwards, smelling of sandalwood, and enclosed her hand in his large, warm one. Long dimples indented both cheeks. ‘Cody Belshaw.’

  She drowned a little more in his blue eyes, which seemed exactly the wrong way to kick off an interview for a short-term contract job.

  ‘Pleased to meet you.’

  He let go of her fingers and
gestured at the sideways-oval ring on her other hand. ‘Don’t be nervous.’ The dimples flashed again. ‘I had a girlfriend once who was into mood rings. You hardly ever see them anymore.’

  Thank the stars he’d got the ring’s mood hue of red—for desire—confused with anxiety (amber).

  Bridie weakly laughed, twisting the accessory on her finger. ‘My friend, Megz, gave it to me so long ago I don’t even think it works properly anymore.’ That was in case he’d been lying about the perceived mood colour to save her the humiliation. ‘But wearing it feels like slipping on a pair of comfortable shoes.’

  It also hid a lingering, tell-tale tan mark on that hand.

  She was treated to another smile, as blinding as driving into the setting sun. ‘I can understand that. Anyway, I shouldn’t leave you standing on the doorstep. Come in and meet the others. We don’t bite, I promise.’

  Her mind would have jumped to an image of him giving her a love bite if she wasn’t so distracted by his mention of ‘the others’. Just how many people were interviewing her? And she was meant to be as cool as a cucumber cocktail.

  She followed Cody into the hall, drawing in a few secret deep breaths. Inside, a ball chandelier, the size of Pluto, twinkled overhead and a jarrah staircase curved upwards. At the landing, a massive black-and-white print of a bridal couple decorated the wall. She trailed behind Cody through a door to the right. It led into a lounge room.

  Another guy sat amid twin cream couches by a stone fireplace. This one came a close second to Cody in the looks department, with side-parted, short dark hair, light brown eyes, and a similar deep tan and tall, well-built frame. Something else also seemed familiar about him …

  He stood, striding over to shake her hand. ‘Vance Belshaw, hi.’ He had the same hint of a transatlantic accent as Cody.

  The penny dropped, and she was babbling and pumping his hand a little too energetically. ‘You’re from Supermodel Search.’

  Vance Belshaw, the New York fashion photographer! She’d loved that TV show; the perfect slice of escapism after a hard day at the office.

  A long dimple carved into Vance’s right cheek as he released her hand. Did everyone at Goldlake have dimples? ‘That’d be me, although retouching’s more my thing these days, rather than TV and fashion shoots … Nice Donna Karan top, by the way. I photographed the design on the catwalk.’

  ‘Oh.’ Bridie blushed, looking down at the fuzzy, short-sleeved top—just pale enough pink to be passable in the corporate world—which had cost about as much as her Pulsar a seeming lifetime ago. ‘Thanks.’

  Vance nodded at Cody beside her. ‘Anyway, Mr Hollywood’s other occupation is more exciting than mine.’

  Bridie gulped. ‘Mr Who?’

  Vance grinned as Cody rolled his eyes beside her. ‘He’s a LA paparazzo usually.’

  Bridie’s stomach tightened and her fingers began to sweat. ‘A paparazzo,’ she faintly echoed.

  That was not part of the plan when she’d applied for the girl-Friday job in this speck of a town. Not at all.

  She wasn’t from Hollywood, of course. The local news probably wouldn’t even be on Cody’s radar. But it was still a disaster waiting to happen. She hadn’t expected the business owners to have other jobs, let alone such high-profile ones. Now when Cody looked at her, she imagined him sizing up a paparazzi target rather than peering into her soul. If only staying hidden wasn’t such a money drainer.

  Still dazed, she suddenly looked from Vance to Cody and back again. ‘Hold on. Belshaw. You’re brothers?’

  ‘Triplets.’ That voice came from behind her; the home-grown accent she recognised from the phone.

  A guy, who was strikingly similar to Vance, but with close-shaven dark hair and black horn-rimmed glasses, hovered in the doorway.

  Bridie had to hold onto the back of the nearby couch to steady herself. ‘Triplets!’

  The shocks kept coming that afternoon. Her life seemed designed for them lately.

  ‘I’m Jaxon,’ the other brother said with a smile, heading over for her third handshake of the day. ‘Vance and I are identical, of course. He’s the eldest by a minute. And our baby bro here, well, he’s just the bad egg.’

  ‘I think he means I’m the “fraternal” one,’ Cody dryly remarked. He looked to Bridie. ‘Should we take a seat?’

  She vigorously nodded, needing it. Walking around to the nearest couch, she sank into its depths and dropped her handbag at her feet. The triplets sat opposite. Hemsworth brothers, eat your heart out. She felt like she was on the set of The Bachelorette, not at a job interview. A triply terrifying version of The Bachelorette.

  ‘Jaxon, d-do you have another job too?’ Bridie asked as her mind scrambled to compute everything.

  Jaxon, in the centre, readjusted his glasses. ‘I do, but in video. Funeral tributes most recently.’

  ‘Oh, wow.’ Celebrities, fashion—and funerals. The trio certainly covered the spectrum.

  ‘Jaxon’s our hometown hero,’ Cody chimed in. ‘He’s never ventured far from Goldlake, or the Love Shack as we like to call it.’

  She raised both eyebrows. ‘The Love Shack?’

  Cody smiled again, though only a glimmer of it reached his eyes this time. ‘Yeah, this was our old man’s place until recently.’ Oh. ‘Unfortunately, cancer snuck up on him. But he was the original wedding photographer … You might have seen the wedding pic of him and Mum in the hall actually.’

  Bridie fluttered a hand to her chest. ‘That was them? So nice.’

  Cody nodded. ‘Ol’ Valentine met Mum at a wedding he was working on. She was a bridesmaid. It was love at first click, though she was a good decade younger than him. They struggled to have kids at first, then they got a triple whammy with us.’ Cody cleared his throat. ‘Mum passed away twenty years earlier, sadly.’

  ‘How tragic,’ Bridie whispered, her heart squeezing just thinking about the triplets in their tender years. Let alone the challenge their dad would have faced raising them alone. And she thought she didn’t have the best childhood tale.

  Cody shrugged, though it was obvious he was anything but casual about the topic. ‘It happened in her sleep, from a blood clot. As unexpected as it was, Dad always used to say it was the most peaceful way to go. But, sorry—’ he shifted in his seat, ‘I didn’t mean to start things off on a depressing note. Anyway, Dad worked out of here as a wedding photographer for most of his life. You might have even heard of him if you’re from nearby?’

  Bridie looked down at her nails, recently painted a candy-pink. It was wonderful to wear the colour turned up again after so much boring black, grey and beige.

  ‘Actually, um, I’m not a local. I’m from the city.’ And not the nearest one they might imagine. ‘I heard about the job through … a friend. It sounded like a great opportunity. I’m … in between jobs, you see.’

  Would they hold that fact and her city roots against her? And should she even care, considering the job was entirely different from what she’d envisaged?

  At any rate, Cody slowly nodded. ‘That’s cool. Though, I do have to reiterate it is a short-term contract. There really is no option for extending the role beyond the month.’

  ‘Well, unlikely,’ Jaxon spoke up.

  Cody exchanged glances with Vance. Though Cody was the youngest, he appeared to be the one in charge. ‘No, the month’s definitely it.’

  Jaxon sat back with a slight frown.

  What was all that about?

  Bridie cleared her throat. ‘A-a month is perfect for me to bridge the gap between now and my … next opportunity.’

  Yes, she did still need this job. What could possibly go wrong in a month anyway, if she kept up her disguise? The role afforded her thirty-one days for things to blow over, for her recent dramas to become next month’s fish-and-chip paper. Besides, no other options were exactly knocking down her door.

  She reached for her handbag. ‘Should I show you my CV?’

  Cody put up his hand, stopping her. ‘You tol
d Jaxon your credentials on the phone. And we can see you’ve got the right sort of personality for the job. This is more about whether we’re the right fit for you. As you’ve worked out, we all have other commitments and there’s only so much time we can afford to take off from them. Whoever works for us needs to be on the same page. So I’m going to give it to you straight, the real reason why we’re here. Although, you’ll need to sign an agreement not to breathe a word about it.’

  A shiver galloped down Bridie’s spine. What now? ‘Um … okay.’

  Cody wiped his hands on his jeans, which hugged his muscular thighs to perfection. His physique was likely aided by chasing down celebrities, she told herself.

  ‘All right, it’s going to sound crazy, but here goes …’ After a pause, Cody plunged on. ‘Our dad, believe me, was quite the eccentric. He always had this mad idea that one day us boys would team up together in the wedding photography biz. It wasn’t enough that we were all interested in cameras of some kind.

  ‘So anyway, he wound up actually putting it in his will; that we’d have to operate such a business together for one month and have it deemed a success by his mate, Russ—the resident gardener—or the Love Shack would be bequeathed to the animal shelter where Dad’s beloved Border Collie came from. Russ was once a photographer too, you see.’

  Bridie sat as still as the statue in the front yard. ‘You’re having me on. This is some kind of job interview test, right?’

  Or any minute the camera crew from TMZ would reveal themselves, and the game would be up.

  Cody shook his head. ‘I wish we were having a laugh.’ Incredibly, his expression was dead serious. ‘Dad at least allowed us some time to grieve. Please understand too, we’re not trying to hang on to this place because we’re greedy, but because it’s where we grew up. All the memories of our parents, our childhood, are tied up here. It’s all we have left.’

  Bridie nodded, trying to digest the Brewster’s Millions-type tale. ‘Wow, wow. And I-I get it … I guess.’