Page 58 of Runaway Bride and Prejudice

“Okay, hotshot.” Her eyes widen and she bounces a little on the bed, sending more coffee dripping over the rim of her cup. This time she doesn’t lick it off. “That’s it! Hotshot. LikeSpeed.” When I stare blankly, she gives me an incredulous look. “You know—the movie with Sandra Bullock.”

“Is that the one with the witches?”

“No.” She looks aghast.

I yawn. “Was she the FBI agent pretending to be a beauty pageant contestant?”

“No—that’sMiss Congeniality.”

“Hm. Then I don’t think I sawSpeed.”

Amelia’s eyes go wide. “You’ve never seen it? Are you serious?”

“When did it come out?”

“Sometime in the nineties? I don’t know exactly.” When I shake my head, she leaves the coffee and rummages around the room until she finds the remote. “We should watch it.”

“What—like now?”

“Why not? I'm sure we can find it streaming somewhere.”

I take a sip of coffee. It tastes like what you’d expect from coffee made in a bathroom. “We’re staying at a fancy resort and you want to watch a movie?”

A flush rises in her cheeks, and I feel bad about my comment. I also realize she has freckles. I’d never noticed them, and I wonder if she covered them with makeup the times I’d seen her before. They’re light, barely visible now that she’s blushing, but they cover her cheeks and the bridge of her nose.

“I mean, we can do whatever we want,” she says, looking down. “And you don’t have to hang out with me all the time.”

“What if my only plans for this trip are to hang out with you every moment of every day?”

The pink in her cheeks deepens, but now she smiles. “I’d be okay with that. But I don’t want you to get sick of me.”

“I’m afraid you’re stuck with me, Mills. But first order of business: we should call about your luggage and also see about getting your suite.”

“Was the couch terrible? I tried to make you take the bed!”

I wasn’t about to make her sleep on the couch. Even if it would have been a better fit for her than me. “Nonsense. I’m fine. But I wouldn’t be opposed to booking a massage at some point.”

“That can be arranged.”

We decide to split up. I stay in the room and call the airline about her luggage, while she heads down to the lobby—still in pajamas, which I love—to ask about the suite she and Drew booked for tonight.

After I get hung up on twice and end up leaving a voice message I’m sure no one will ever hear, I pull a shirt on and head down to see what’s keeping Amelia. Even if the reservation was in her ex’s name, the suite will likely be at least available tonight.

Or not.

“You already booked the suite?” Amelia sounds half a breath away from pure panic. “How is that possible? I was supposed to be staying there tonight. We had a reservation.”

This morning, the woman with the tight bun has been replaced with a guy who looks barely old enough to vote.

“We did keep the reservation,” he says, clearing his throat and tapping on the computer keys.

“But youdidn’t,” Amelia says as I reach her. “Obviously.” She shakes her head at me as if silently saying,can you believe this?Honestly, with her luck the past twenty-four hours, I can believe it. “I’m right here, and you’re telling me the suite is taken. So, how did you honor the reservation? Please. Explain.”

Her voice is almost banshee-like and she punctuates her words by tapping her finger on the counter. I step closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She relaxes into me with a soft exhale, and it instantly makes me feel better.

“Obviously, there’s some confusion,” I say.

The boy-man stops tapping at the computer and cracks his knuckles before answering. “As I’ve previously stated several times, the honeymoon suite is currently occupied.”

---