Page 23 of The Trouble with Runaway Brides

I step away. “Okay, I need a sleek white gown with hardly any beads, lace, or rhinestones. Just silk fabric.”

“But—”

“I have to wear the dress, so it’s going to be what I want. And don’t worry, Mr. Asbury isn’t paying for it.”

Blake claps. “Girl power!”

I roll my eyes.

“I’d let him pay for it though. But that’s just me,” Blake adds, and I laugh.

It takes four dresses before I find one I like that’s in my price range.

“Sold!” Blake says the minute I walk out of the changing room wearing a silk V-neck dress with spaghetti straps.

And I couldn’t agree more. Now I just have to beg Annette from Lake Starlight to alter it for me in time.

“I’ll take it,” I say. A sense of relief fills me now that one more thing is off the list.

The saleswoman looks at the other, and they exchange a look.

Before I can return to the changing room, my phone rings in my purse, where it’s sitting on the floor beside Blake.

“Can you see who that is?” I ask.

Blake digs through my purse and hands me my phone. I don’t know the number, but I recognize it as an Alaska number, so I hit the round green button on the screen to take the call.

“Hello,” I answer.

“Hi, Kenzie. This is Jeanette from Glacier Point Resort in Lake Starlight. I’m just returning your phone call to let you know that I will no longer be your point of contact for your wedding preparations. You can contact Lance Whitmore directly for more details.”

I frown and look at Blake.

“What?” he asks.

Pulling the phone away from my mouth, I say, “I’m not sure I have a venue anymore.”

Eight

Lance

I’m in the middle of the podcast with Ivy when my phone buzzes like crazy. She stares at my pocket, and I pull it out to silence it and see with a glimpse that it’s Kenzie. I wonder if this has to do with our run-in today with her fiancé.

Ivy continues asking me questions about what I do with my free time and what I’m looking for in a woman. I never mention that I spend as much time as I can in my hometown of Lake Starlight because the last thing I need is some fortune seeker following me up there. Right after this interview, I’m flying out there.

When the interview ends, Ivy thanks me and says she’ll let me know when it’s live.

“It’s so hard to find listeners and build a following, so thank you for agreeing to the interview,” she says. “Josh mentioned that you don’t really like this sort of thing, so I appreciate you making an exception.”

Ivy is tall and thin with brown hair, highlighted with blonde that cascades just past her shoulders. Her olive-colored skin adds to her beauty and she’s definitely the type of woman I’m typically attracted to.

“Can I treat you to lunch as a thank-you?” Her question is innocent enough, but the way her eyes flash with interest says she might be hoping for more than lunch.

I flick my wrist to check the time on my watch. I have two hours before the plane takes off, and since I fly private, I don’t have to be there too early.

“Let me just see who can’t stop messaging me.” I take my phone out of my pocket.

Sure enough, there are three missed calls from Kenzie and a string of text messages that are still coming through. She’s leaving one or two words on each text. She must really be in a panic.

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