Page 13 of The Trouble with Runaway Brides

“Where’s that?” Wendell asks although I’ve told him more than a few times.

“Lake Starlight in Alaska,” I say in a way that makes me a little ashamed. As if it’s less special than New York or something. I should own the fact I’m from there.

“Lake Starlight? You mean where Glacier Point Resort is?” Mr. Asbury says, and I know right away he’s put it all together. “You want to marry Will at a Whitmore hotel?”

Will’s head whips in my direction. “You didn’t mention that.”

My face heats. “Technically, it’s owned by Wyatt Whitmore, not Whitmore Hotels.”

“Lance’s dad?” Will says in a loud voice. His dad puts his hand on his son’s arm, and he lowers his voice to a whisper. “Lance Whitmore’s dad?”

I nod. I’ve never told Will my history with Lance, which I know is deceitful, especially now, but Lance is in my past. Will is my future, and there’s so much animosity between them from their time at Columbia University that I didn’t want to add fuel to the fire. Will and I were just getting serious when Lance entered a restaurant we were eating at, and Will talked about his hatred for Lance and his family the entire dinner. After that, I figured, why mention it? It wasn’t as if Lance and I were still in communication or anything. But now I realize I might have to say something.

“Perfect. I love it. Oh, it’s going to piss them off something fierce.” His dad laughs.

“Alaska?” Jas shakes her head, looking at her husband as if he’s crazy. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, Wendell?”

He cuts a look her way. “It’s a perfect idea. This is going to be great. I just wish I’d thought of it. Rather than auction off the press spot for charity, let’s sell the photographs and an interview with you two after the big day to the highest bidder.”

Her shoulders sink. “I’m going to need a whole new wardrobe.” Jas looks at me. “How afraid do I need to be about the moose?”

I smile and look at Will, who squeezes my hand.

I just hope he still feels like it’s a good idea after I tell him exactly who Lance Whitmore is to me.

Five

Lance

I knock on my grandfather’s office door. His secretary hasn’t arrived yet, but he’s always here early.

“Come in,” he says.

I open the door and he smiles immediately. It’s the same grin he’s given me ever since I told him I’d be coming to work for him after getting my master’s from Columbia.

“Grandson.” He drops his reading glasses on the desk and leans back in his chair.

I sit in one of the two chairs across from him. His office is decorated in dark mahogany and brown leather. The only modern thing in the space is his computer, but that’s my grandfather. It’s also the reason we’re seeing a decline in business, truthfully, but I’m not telling him that. I learned a long time ago that I always have to make it his decision because he’s so stubborn he’ll fight me to the death otherwise.

He looks at his gold watch. “You’re early today.”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Your grandmother says it’s the electronics. Whatever happened to just reading a book before bed?” He shakes his head.

He and my grandmother have cocooned themselves in a bubble, refusing to entertain using modern technology. You don’t know how long it took me to get him to put USB ports in the outlets of our hotels. He was convinced they were unnecessary.

I cross one leg over the other and my fingers tap on my socks that have a sprinkle pattern on them. It’s the only part of me that’s not completely conservative and straitlaced. My grandfather eyes them and blows out a breath but doesn’t say anything.

“To what do I owe this surprise visit?”

“You know that restaurant attached to The Orchid?”

“Asbury’s place?” He steeples his fingers and stares at me across the desk as if I’ve ruined his morning by mentioning the Asbury name.

“That’s the one. Nico is the owner of the restaurant. I was in there the other day.”

“Cut the small talk. I know you frequent there for lunch.”

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