Right now, I may as well have been blindfolded and dropped into the spinning teacups at Disneyworld. I’ve never vacillated between so many emotions in such a short period of time. During the truck ride, I was nervous about Jason seeing my motel. Then I was touched at his open honesty. Ticked off when he tossed me over his shoulder like a sack of laundry. And then…and then I…I don’t know what I was.
Was his mouth really on my neck?
Why am I shivering?
It’s likely that I’m cold because Jason’s body heat is no longer up against mine. I’ve barely had a chance to process his question—what the (f word) is that?—before he’s moved past me to the closet, leaving me shaking in the patch of sunlight projected by the window. My stomach sinks down into my sandals when I realize what he’s seeing.
My wedding dress is hanging there like a ghost in the Haunted Mansion ride.
Why am I relating everything to Disneyworld?
“Naomi.”
“I know.”
“You know what?”
“I know it’s a wedding dress and you’re wondering about it.”
He turns with a raised eyebrow. “Thanks for the breakdown.”
Oh Lord. I almost kissed Jason, didn’t I? His mouth did something rather indecent and, fine, pretty delicious to my neck. All of it was leading somewhere. In a way that I didn’t plan or anticipate. My brain wasn’t even in control. But common sense is back behind the wheel now and screeching its outrage at me. Rightly so. Am I really so fickle a woman that I could intend to marry one man, then kiss an entirely new one three days later?
No. No, I’m not fickle. I love and respect Elijah Montgomery DuPont. He’s a good man. The best man for me. We have the same interests, our families go back generations, we already bought furniture for our home. I chose my meditation room so it would overlook the water. Plans have been made. Yes, my cold feet and impulsive decisions put everything on hold. Maybe when all is said and done, I’ll have no chance of getting Elijah back. But I will try. I have no choice, if I ever want to be accepted into the family fold again.
“I fled my own wedding,” I rasp—and it sounds so much worse when I say it out loud. My legs give way and I drop onto the edge of the bed, the weight of what I did finally sinking in. Hard. “Everyone I’ve known since childhood was there, a year of planning and meetings and tastings…and I wrote a note and escaped down the back staircase.”
So much silence passes, I have to glance over to make sure Jason didn’t teleport from the room. But here’s there, all right. Tall, wide, imposing. Intense. Nothing moves apart from a ticking muscle along his bristled jawline. “When?”
“Saturday.”
“Three days ago?” He points a lethal-looking finger at the wedding dress. “Were you changing out of this in front of my house?”
“Well, I could have worn it, but that would have been an awkward interview.”
More jawline ticking. “Not really feeling the jokes right now.”
“Sorry.” I tighten my ponytail with a brutal tug. “I just knew if I stopped moving before I found a place to stay and a job to sustain me…if I stopped and thought about what I’d done, reality would hit and I’d realize I made a huge mistake and go back to Charleston.”
A beat passes. “Was it a mistake?” The room is eerily still. “Do you wish you’d gone through with the wedding?”
“Yes. And no.”
He laughs without any trace of humor. “Let’s talk about the yes first. Because if this closet door had been closed, we’d be rounding third base on this fucking bed right now, beauty queen, and we both know it.”
“Thank goodness the door was open then, because I don’t associate with men who use terms like third base. And fucking.” I shoot to my feet in a burst of frustration. “Are you happy now, Mr. Bristow? You got me to say fuck.”
“Do I look happy?”
“Do you ever?”
His chest expands on a measured breath. I can almost hear him mentally counting to ten and am pleased to be the cause. If only so I can take a moment to square up and prepare for our next round. Although why I am going rounds with this man at all is beyond me. We don’t owe each other anything, do we? Why does it feel like we do? When his mouth was on my neck, I can’t deny there was a moment of me thinking…finally. As if some subconscious part of me had expected to find myself in his arms. But that’s crazy, isn’t it? He’s mean and vulgar and nothing like men I’ve admired in the past.
“Explain what happened.”
Oh. Oh wow. I needed this. I needed to voice everything out loud to another human being. So badly that the truth comes barreling out like monkeys escaping from the zoo. “I was standing there in my perfect dress, poised to enter optimal stain-glass lighting—”