Page 6 of The Billionaire's Runaway Bride

“Funny,” I tell him. He rambles about what the latest rags are saying, but I tune him out as I finish getting ready and packing. Dalton’s not only here to tease me and give me a hard time. He’s offered to drive me to the airport to board my plane—all the more to avoid being seen in one of my hired cars on the way there. It feels like I’m going totally incognito, relying on my friend to secret me away to some hilly boondocks, and again, I wonder how long I’ll be gone for.

Ever since my dad died, I’ve been riding the edge of freedom and doing the minimum to stay committed and dedicated to my family’s legacy. While I agree with my lawyer that my latest incidents won’t threaten Thatcher Metal Works, I realize I’m not helping the company. I’m not supporting it and encouraging it to grow and prosper more. And that’s on me.

Dad died recently from a heart attack, and he was so young to be gone. My reluctance to fully embrace my role is probably just as my therapist suggested: that I’m avoiding the act of finally accepting Dad is gone. For so long, it was just me and him. My mom ran off when I was little. She was too young to want the burden of being a parent. Now that it’s just me, I can’t help but feel unprepared, that I’m not ready to take over the dynasty. I’m only thirty. Being a CEO who’s married to his job shouldn’t apply until I am much older, right?

I’m not sure if I’m ready to lose my freedom yet, but I sure as hell am not ready to lose my fortune and company.

I’ve got to give this a real shot.

I’ll go “hide” in the mountains and lie low if it’s the smart thing to do right now.

Even if there are no women to enjoy, no parties to have, and nothing to keep me entertained…I’ll go and give it my best.

Trouble can’t really follow me everywhere I go, can it?

Chapter 3

Lauren

The bus pulls into another rickety, jagged stop. I’m used to this jolting and braking, already raising my hand to stop myself from slamming into the slightly padded back of the seat in front of me.

Finally. I swallow the nausea eating at me and exit the bus that I never want to see again. I appreciate it. I love this bus for what it represents. It was my ticket—literally—out of marrying Jeremy. If Aubrey hadn’t come through for me and if I hadn’t snapped to and realized I was about to make a huge mistake, I would be back in California, waking up as a married woman.

Instead, I spent the whole night and all day bumping and rolling in that bus.

My butt would be glad to never see it again. As I glance back, though, I rub my sore muscles hidden beneath the poufy dress and sigh.

I thought ahead far enough to get on the bus, but over the course of those thirty hours of riding in it, I gave zero consideration to what I would do when I got off the bus. The attendant at the first station told me I’d get a ride toward Denver, but the final stop of the ticket he gave me brought me to Breckenridge. Wherever the heck that is.

I peer at my surroundings, noticing the clear small-town vibe of it all. This isn’t a busy city. No Ubers line up at the station, and few passengers stand around the station’s exit.

I don’t know where I would go if I found a driver, and I certainly don’t have someone waiting for my arrival. The lack of busyness suits me with this cluelessness.

No one knows where I am, and while I begin to regret throwing my phone in the garbage, I am convinced it’s for the better. Having a computer in hand is so handy when everything we do is through that little device. While it’s a convenient necessity, it’s also a danger. I could be tracked here, and if my parents found me, they’d demand I come right back and do as I’m told.

But what do I do now? Not having Jeremy or my parents around is a blessing. It’s a freeing sensation to know I don’t need to bend to their wishes, but I feel so lost, I start to worry.

What have I done?

Fear creeps in. It’s not the panic that I felt back in the dressing room. This is more like a general puzzle-solving urgency. Where could I go? What can I do?

The priorities are obvious. Food, somewhere to sleep, and oh my gosh, a chance to get out of this dress would be heavenly.

I spot a slotted stand offering brochures and pamphlets and head toward it. It’s almost exciting in an adventurous way. Not relying on technology, just strolling along and picking up advertisements as I see them. Most of the papers are out-of-date tri-folds for the ski resorts. They’re all closed, I imagine, and while some claim they have summer packages for hiking, I’m not in the mood.

I need a break, a chance to sleep for a solid eight hours not on a bus. Only then will I come to terms with what I’ve done by running from my wedding.

“Hmmm…” I pause on a pamphlet for a bed-and-breakfast. It’s not far from the station, and better yet, it’s the cheapest thing I can consider. Limited to the disappearing cash Aubrey gave me, I don’t have many options, and with the same freeing mentality of going along with this as it comes, I ask the attendant at the station if it’s far. She offers for me to use her phone for navigation, and it’s really simple. Mostly a straight walk north, with just a few turns, and I’ll find it.

“You’re going to walk?” She arches both brows.

“Yeah.” I shrug. “Not like any bears are going to get me on the road in the daytime, right?”

She smiles. “I mean…in that.” Her finger lifts to aim at me.

“Oh.” I glance down at my stupid wedding dress, about to snap with the desire to rip it off. “Yeah. It’s fine.” Fine, because it’s never going to be used again. Fine, because I didn’t want it in the first place. And more than fine, because it’s already so battered and dirty and smudged that it’s beyond repair. Squatting to use a roadside toilet is an acrobatic feat, but while trying to hold up this cloud-like blob of fabric too? Impossible.

I can’t wait to get it off, so after I thank her for her help, I start walking. And walking. And walking. Maybe my navigation skills are lacking, or perhaps I hadn’t realized a mostly straight road to follow isn’t what it seems. Elevation. That pesky little detail quickly turns me into a sweating, tired mess hiking up the hills.

---