Page 35 of The Trouble with Runaway Brides

“He can’t make it. Sick or something.”

He growls. “Fine. Let’s go.” He walks out the sliding doors and I have no option but to follow.

What a great day this will be.

Twelve

Lance

Being the son of the owner comes with perks, like the fact that my truck is parked in the first spot of the circle drive, so I don’t have to walk far in the chilly morning to get to it. Taking her to every damn appointment I already made for her is a complete waste of my time. I don’t even understand how she’s surprised that the Lake Starlight townies didn’t plan a welcoming parade for her. Although I do agree the Buzz Wheel thing was especially cruel. She wasn’t the only one involved that night. Easton was a participant, and for some reason, he didn’t catch any hate.

I open my truck door and slide in, waiting for her. She catches up a minute later, opening the passenger door and climbing up. She’s wearing an absurd outfit for Alaska—black pants and heels with a blouse and jacket.

She secures her seat belt and crosses her legs. “You still have the truck?”

I start the engine. “Yep.”

I could tell her it doesn’t make sense to buy a new one—I’m hardly here anymore—but that would invite her to ask more questions. We don’t need to fill the silence with polite conversation.

When I ran into her at the restaurant back in New York, it was one thing to suck it up and be polite through one meal. I assumed that would be the extent of my dealings with her. Now that I know I’m going to have to keep seeing her over and over, my ability to be civil is drying up.

“It kept up nice.” She runs her hand along the dashboard.

“Yep.” I’ve tried to erase the memory of her in this cab. The make-out sessions, the sex late at night, just holding her hand over the center console when we’d leave school at the end of the day.

“I really wish Blake could have come. He loves cake.”

“Shame.” I turn down the long winding road to head into downtown. We’re sure to be seen together and reported in Buzz Wheel, which is what I was trying to avoid when I told her to go to the appointments without me.

“So that’s it? We’re just not going to talk? You’re going to be an ass because I demanded you go with me?”

“Pretty much.”

She blows out a breath, uncrosses her legs, and crosses them again. “Real mature. And to think you run a billion-dollar business.”

“My grandfather runs it. Not me.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Just want to be clear in case things go south with Willy boy—I’m not the replacement you’re looking for.”

I pull into downtown, and thankfully, it’s not that busy. The dry cleaner is closed, and Lucky’s bar doesn’t open until later. All the foot traffic is by the diner, Lard Have Mercy.

“Are you suggesting I’m a gold digger?”

I park in front of Sweet Suga Things. “Did those words come out of my mouth?”

I turn off the engine and climb out of the truck, stepping onto the sidewalk and not waiting for her. She hurries out of the truck, her heels clicking behind me. The first snowfall is probably days away. She’d be on her ass in a second if it happened this morning.

“I never cared that you had money. Let’s remember who kept who in the dark about your trust fund. First time I heard about it was when I saw it in the press after college.”

“Why did it matter? I didn’t get it until I was twenty-five. We weren’t even together then.” I raise my eyebrows, implying that it’s her fault.

“It didn’t, and I’ll have you know that Will’s money had nothing to do with why I started dating him.”

“You met on your podcast, so you knew who he was, right?”

She stops walking and crosses her arms, a smirk on her face. “Look who listens to my podcast.”

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