Page 10 of Runaway Bride and Prejudice

“Yum,” Morgan whispers, clearly not as bothered by the whole fiancé-being-manhandled thing.

I ignore her. “What’s going on?” As I step closer, Robbie releases Drew and gives him a light shove my way.

To my surprise, Becky darts over, steadying Drew as he stumbles.

“Oh, good. You’re both here,” Robbie says, glancing between them.

Both?

Becky is still holding Drew’s arms, and they are standingwaytoo close together. With the kind of body language that screams this isn’t the first time they’ve been this close.

Orcloser.

My stomach gives a sudden and violent lurch to the left. Morgan stiffens beside me. Yep, she noticed too. She emits a low growling sound, and I grab her hand. Partly for comfort. And partly to hold her back since we still don’t know what’s going on here.

Though I’m beginning to think I have a good idea.

Noticing the tension in the room—or maybe hearing Morgan’s growl—Becky and Drew jump apart. But it’s the guilty expressions on their faces that cement the picture forming in my mind.

Becky and Drew? My fiancé and my cousin?

Okay, who dropped me into my own reality show? I did not sign consent forms for this.

Swallowing, I glance quickly at Robbie, still standing inside the room with his arms crossed and a thunderous look on his face. I still don’t know whyhe’shere, but he’s apparently not going anywhere.

“Your fiancé has something to confess,” Robbie says, emphasizingfiancéin a way that makes it sound like he’s talking about dog poop. The sneer on his lips adds to the effect.

They’re nice lips. The night we met I couldn’t stop looking at them as we talked. But I really shouldnot be distracted by them rightnow. Not when what he’s saying has nausea curling in my gut.

“I’m sorry, but why are you here?” I ask him.

“My question exactly,” Drew mutters.

“Because I couldn’t stand by and watch?—”

Robbie stops himself, taking the smallest step back and looking, for the first time since he barreled into the room, a little unsure.

For a moment, I’m shuttled back to the night we met, when I mentioned losing my mom.That must have been so hard, he said, which trumped the simpleI’m sorrypeople usually offer up. His dark brown eyes met mine with a tug I felt travel up my spine like I was being unzipped and had stepped out of myself into something new. When he covered my hand with his, brushing his thumb across my palm, I felt the caress everywhere.

Then he left me, I remind myself. I turn back to the situation at hand. One I’m really getting impatient to resolve.

“Just say it,” I tell Drew. “Whatever this is,say it.”

His cheeks are red, his eyes apologetic but with a slight edge of anger, reminding me of a kid who’s been caught but is still blaming his little brother. Or the family dog.

Drew shoves his hands in his suit pockets and looks at Becky, who bites her lip and stares down at her pink shoes like she’s hoping if she clicks them together three times she’ll be sent anywhere but this room.

“Why don’t we all just calm down,” Drew says in a firm voice, clearly meant to placate and soothe.

Which is funny considering no one is really freaking out. Yet.

But his words turn the tension in the room up to the broil setting.

For a man who apparently has been maintaining relationships with multiple women, Drew sure doesn’t understand us very well. Anyone with a frontal lobe knows telling women to calm down is the equivalent of waving a wholebarrage of red flags at an angry bull. I bristle, feeling my nostrils flare and my lip curl.

Becky stamps her stupid Petal Pink shoe and gives a little, outraged scream. “Calm down?” she screeches.

“Babe—” Drew starts, then swings wide, deer-in-the-headlights eyes toward me when he realizes the confirmation in that one little word.

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