Page 135 of Runaway Bride and Prejudice

Earlier today Parker walked out of the press room with no idea what she dropped me in the middle of. As soon as the door closed behind her, Callie smiled—the kind of smile I imagine serial killers offer their victims before getting down to business.

“Hello, Amelia,” she said, steepling her fingers on the table, Godfather style. “We’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

Meeting is a loose word for what happened next, which was more of a verbal annihilation. Grey kept trying to cut in and, from the sound of it, soften things, but she didn’t get a chance to speak.

She and I had that in common. I didn’t even try to talk. What does etiquette say about talking to the sisters of a guy you married, then ditched? I’m not sure even the expanded edition of Emily Post addresses this.

So, of course I’m nervous when Grey finally releases me and steps back in line with her sisters.

Where is Van?

“Mills?” he calls from somewhere deeper in the house. Somewhere behind his sisters. He emerges and stops, huffing out a breath. “Oh, right. Your welcoming committee is here. Ladies—would you mind stepping aside so I can show Amelia to her room?”

“Do you mean your room?” Grey says hopefully. “In your bed?”

I think even my eyeballs are blushing.

Van sighs and shoulders his way between his sisters until he reaches me. Then, with hands on hips and eyes on mine, he says, “Yes. Mills will be in my bed. I will be on the couch.”

“Boo,” Grey says.

I feel the same way. Even if I shouldn’t.

“Do you even fit on the couch?” Callie asks. “That can’t be comfortable. Or a good idea with playoffs tomorrow. What if you get a crick in your neck?”

I’m not sure if she’s trying to make me feel bad for taking Van’s bed or trying to get us into bed together. From the way she’s been looking at me since I walked inside the house, probably the latter.

“I should take the couch. I don’t want to kick you out of your room.”

“You two are married,” Grey points out. Like we didn’t know. “Married people share beds. It’s a whole thing.”

Van closes his eyes like he’s searching his eyelids for some extra patience. He must find it because when he opens them, he meets my gaze again and gives me a little smile. It may be small, but I feel that grin all the way down to my pinky toes.

“We are also adults,” he says. “Stop trying to meddle.”

Then he reaches out and takes my hand, guiding me through the gauntlet of sisters and into a back hallway leading to the bedrooms. I fist his shirt in my other hand and lean close to his back.

“Thank you,” I whisper, not wanting his sisters to see any sign of weakness. They’re like jackals. And despite Grey’s kindness, I don’t for a second think they wouldn’t turn on me.

He doesn’t answer, but his thumb strokes over my knuckles one time. The tiny gesture has me grinning, burying my face in his back. He smells divine.

And then we’re alone.

In his bedroom.

Van swings me out and releases me like some kind of ballroom dance move and I careen forward, ending up half sitting on his enormous bed as he closes the door behind us.

Gulp.

The last time we were in a bedroom together, it was right after we recited vows and danced in the moonlight. By the way his eyes darken, I can tell he’s thinking about the same thing.

He clears his throat and his expression, shifting from a heated gaze to cool and detached.

Van also looks handsome, but that’s irrelevant. Van neverdoesn’tlook good. Even with the slightly swollen cheek, which reminds me of how he also looked good the last time he had a bruised face.

Crossing his arms, Van leans back against the closed door like he’s waiting for me to speak. It makes sense, considering I basically invited myself into his place.

Which, for the record, is really nice.

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