Page 6 of Best Part of Me

“Camille,” he says my name desperately, as if this might be his last chance to change my mind.

But it’s too late. He won’t. The truth is, I made up my mind a long time ago. I just didn’t have the courage to end things with him and break my mom’s heart.

I spin around and rush down the hall toward the exit. To the door that is suddenly looking like my entrance to a new beginning. To freedom. That thought propels my feet forward, and I’m jogging now. But I can hear Chris chasing after me.

Once outside, I pass the rows of seats where most of our guests are already seated. One in particular catches my eye: Fucking Maverick Mendes. A flutter of embarrassment whirls through me when I see him rising to his feet out of my peripheral. But I keep my focus on the street ahead, past the vineyard to where the newlywed getaway car is parked.

When I hear Chris’s footsteps stall behind me, I glance over my shoulder one last time. It breaks my heart to find the pain and confusion smeared on his face.

One day Chris will thank me for this. I’m not the one for him. Because the person he’s supposed to end up with will fight through time and space for him. And that’s not me. Hell, I wouldn’t agree to move to New York with him, even though his dream job waited there for him.

The other thing is—he’s not the one for me either.

My person wouldn’t even ask me to leave Maple Ridge, Colorado, where my dad and brother live. Not after we just lost Mom a year and a half ago. And did I forget to mention Chris slept with my friend, Olivia, who is also one of my bridesmaids? It was before we got together, but still. I can’tnotthink of it each time we make love.

As I bunch the millions of layers of tulle in my fists and jog through the dusty vineyard in my strappy heels, a thrill wriggles through me.I am fucking doing this.I am running away from not only Chris but Dad, Jones, and all my family and friends. I know my dad and brother will forgive me. They already had their concerns about Chris. It was Mom who loved him. But what about everyone else? Grandma Nettie? Gigi? My aunts and uncles, cousins who traveled from far away?

A commotion breaks out, and there are footsteps behind me again, but I don’t turn around.

The excitement I felt only a moment ago dissolves into instant panic. My chest tightens and my breathing accelerates. My gaze bounces from the row of cars parked parallel down the dirt road to the catering van, until it finally lands on our getaway car. Or, in this case,mygetaway car. I swipe at the sheen of sweat on my forehead—this damn summer weather we’re experiencing in early fall—and I sprint toward the shiny black convertible with the adorable hand-painted sign on the back. It reads:Just Married.

But when I reach it, my heart stalls, slamming against my ribcage. A florist delivery van and another car are blocking in the getaway car, and my driver is currently passed out in the backseat. He’s apparently oblivious to the drastic decision I just made and the catastrophic fuse I lit.

“Cammie!” Jones hollers from several yards behind me.

I glance over my shoulder and find not only Jones but Rosie too, her hand resting on his forearm. My chest heaves as I fight to catch a full breath. I have a fleeting thought of:What the hell are you doing, Camille? You can’t just run away from your wedding. This isn’t the movies. This is real life.

The driver jolts awake, his frantic eyes taking in the scene while he coughs and sputters, “I’m so sorry, ma’am. Is the ceremony already over? Ma’am... are you okay?”

The faint sound of a motorcycle in the distance catches my attention and sends goosebumps shooting across my skin until it’s close enough to rumble in my chest. I whip my head up, and there he is—my savior—Maverick Mendes. A.k.a. Ladies’-Man-Mav. My brother’s best friend and my childhood crush. Of coursehedoesn’t know that. Neither does Jones. Because Jones would have a freak attack if he knew his little sister had a thing for Ladies’-Man-Mav.

The only person who knows of this forbidden crush is Rosie. And Rosie has been sworn to secrecy by a juvenile pinkie swear that we still take seriously to this day.

“Hop on,” he demands.

The roar of the idling Harley thunders in not only my ears but my entire core. I chew my bottom lip as I take in the length of his legs, straddling the bike while dressed in the cobalt-blue suit. I’ve never seen his brown eyes stand out as much as they do in this moment, and the gravitation pulls me in.

With one last glance at Chris and my family, I hike my leg over the motorcycle and hop onto the seat. The poufy dress bunches around me, and I smoosh it down so I can scoot closer to Maverick.

He gazes at me over his shoulder. “You sure about this, Sunshine?”

My eyes dance over his, and I try to ignore the desire for him that I’ve held in for too many years. I nod.

“Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere,” I answer without thinking.

“Hold on.”

I wrap my arms around his waist just as he takes off. A rush of adrenaline floods through me as the reverberating between my thighs increases with the bike’s speed. My heart hammers against his back as I hold him tight. His chest is sculpted and hard beneath my fingers, and I can’t turn off the part of my brain that craves to touch him everywhere.

But Maverick Mendes is off-limits.

Always has been, always will be.

CHAPTER2

Maverick

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