Page 33 of The Trouble with Runaway Brides

I shake my head, lasering my eyes on Lance. He shoves his hands into his slacks, widens his stance, and waits for me to continue.

“You’re not getting off that easy,” I say. “This town hates me because of you, so you’ll be escorting me to each and every one of these meetings.”

He scoffs. “You’re crazy.”

“No, I’m not. I’ll see you at nine o’clock tomorrow morning in the lobby and you can escort Blake and me to Sweet Suga Things.”

He inhales a deep breath, turns, and walks toward the exit.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” I call.

He lifts his hand and waves. That better mean he’ll be there.

I look around the room. It’s beautiful and perfect. I can imagine hibiscus and plumeria flowers over the arch. Bright colors on a dreary winter day seem odd, but I’ve always dreamed of those flowers at my wedding.

“You two are… I mean…” Blake can’t even finish his sentence. He picks up the paper and reads it over. “He’s anal as all hell. Did you see this?” He hands the paper back to me.

I’d naively thought the list of questions at the desk for me last night had come from Jeanette, not Lance. But as I read over the itinerary, it seems he has it all handled. Every appointment has been made and he has notes of what he’s told the person on my behalf. I hate how well the man knows me because I know the to-do list I made for myself matches his, except for the dress alterations with Annette on mine.

“I hate him,” I say, walking out of the room and right over to the restaurant to have breakfast.

Of course, there he is again, talking with his dad. They both turn toward me, exchange some words and before I can grab a plate from the buffet, Wyatt Whitmore crosses the room, coming right toward me.

“Kenzie,” he says, holding out his hand.

“Mr. Whitmore.” My voice is shaky and so is my hand until he clasps it and gives me a firm handshake.

Lance saunters over, although begrudgingly.

“I hope you find the accommodations satisfactory. When will your fiancé be joining us? I don’t want to be blindsided by the enemy.” Mr. Whitmore laughs, but it’s hollow and says exactly what he thinks about this whole thing.

The old Kenzie would’ve crawled into a hole. Well, not this one.

I smile. “In a couple days.”

“Yes, they have their big conference in Arizona this time of the year, right?”

I nod.

“And who’s your friend?” Wyatt looks at Blake.

“I’m Blake, her friend and business partner.”

They shake hands. “Nice to meet you.”

“It’s a beautiful hotel,” Blake says. Kiss-ass.

“Thank you. My family has put a lot into it.” Mr. Whitmore’s gaze falls to mine. “Well, I’ll let you two enjoy your breakfast. Please let me know if you need help with anything. And thanks for breaking in Lance with his first wedding gig.” He pats Lance’s shoulder. “I do hope he’s satisfactory.”

“Yes, sir,” I answer like an idiot.

“Enjoy your stay.” He turns on his wingtips and leaves.

Lance stares at me for a beat then follows.

Once they’re out of the room, I hand Blake a plate, but he’s staring after them. “Talk about men who know how to be the alpha in a room. Holy shit, where are men like that my age? Not in New York City.”

I put a spoonful of eggs on my plate. “Don’t make me tell Geoff.”

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