Page 15 of The Trouble with Runaway Brides

On the ride over to Nico’s, turmoil churns in my stomach. I’ve never been one to risk anything, especially money. I don’t gamble, although Easton did successfully get me to a blackjack table once during a bachelor party for a buddy of ours from high school. I lost two hundred and called it quits. Easton lost five hundred and wanted to keep going. I pulled him away, saving him from waking up and regretting his decision.

Hell, I barely risk getting a meal at a restaurant that I might not like. But this feeling coming over me is exhilarating and fun.

The car stops at the curb and my hand shoots to the door handle. The sun beats on the side of my face and this feeling of invincibility comes over me when I push it open.

But that high sinks when I enter the restaurant to find Will Asbury standing in front of me, asking the hostess to speak to Nico.

“I’ll be right with you,” she says to me, causing Will to turn around.

He scoffs and puts out his hand. “Ah, Lance Whitmore.”

“Will.” I take his hand and nod, resisting the urge to crush his fingers into dust.

“Funny running into you at one of my hotels.”

I purposely step back and look at the big sign with the restaurant’s name. “I wasn’t aware I was in a hotel.”

“You know exactly what I mean. This is my property.”

“First of all, it’s Asbury Enterprises,’ and the actual restaurant isn’t yours, just the building.” I stuff my hands in my pockets.

He shrugs. “It’s all the same.”

“It’s really not.”

Nico comes over and clears his throat. “Mr. Asbury, how can I help you?” He ignores me, which is a good decision on his part. We both know Will is an asshat who’ll be offended by Nico knowing who I am.

So while Will and Nico walk into what I suspect is Nico’s office, I ask the hostess to be seated. I order myself a beer and the same meal I did yesterday. While I’m waiting, I decide to find out exactly how much Will knows about his fiancée’s past. I finally pull up the text string she sent me last night. The one I’ve purposely not responded to yet.

Kenzie: We’re all in. Talked to Will and his family. Can you get me the number of the venue coordinator?

Me: Sure, but first I do have one question.

I wait to see if she’s available or if she’s recording.

Kenzie: Sure.

Me: How much does Will know?

The three dots appear and disappear. Appear and disappear again. Finally, a new message pops up.

Kenzie: I haven’t told him yet. I needed him to agree to the location first. I’m sure he’s not going to care though. Why are you asking?

Me: Just curious. You are aware we know each other from Columbia, right?

Kenzie: I am.

I huff. How the hell did she find out? Then again, although the Asbury name is similar to a swear word around the Whitmores, the Asburys are probably open about hating us.

Me: Complicates things, no?

Kenzie: I can’t see why. We were the past. Will is my future.

Did she mean for that to sting as much as it does? Jesus that aggravates me. I do a quick search on my phone for the venue coordinator’s information and do a copy and paste.

Me: Jeanette 907-555-9684.

Then I click my screen off and pocket my phone in my suit jacket, ignoring the vibration that means she’s texted me back. I kick myself for the hundredth time for mentioning Lake Starlight when I saw her, but I never in a million years would have thought the Asburys would entertain holding their wedding in Alaska.

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