Page 90 of Runaway Bride and Prejudice

I tap Van on the back. “Might I make a request? Look over there.”

Van turns, pausing as he sees the wedding I’m pointing to. “The wedding?” He sounds confused. Maybe a little concerned.

“Why not crash the reception? Maybe just for one dance.”

Van hesitates. I can feel tension coiling in his back. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

The funny thing is that my own failed wedding didn’t even occur to me. Which feels like a massive step. And further confirmation that what’s happening between me and Van isn’t some kind of emotional rebound.

I smile. “Positive.”

A moment later, Van sets me back on my feet and takes my hand in his. I’m glad because I’m so overwhelmed with emotion and maybe exhaustion and possibly the effects of the piña colada that I need his steadying presence.

My brain feels like a mix between a spinning top and one of those kaleidoscopes you turn as a kid, the colors bursting and shifting against a backdrop of light.

There’s no security or any kind of barrier outside the designated wedding area, and no one notices as we slip into the crowd. The moment we do, however, the song changes from something slow and romantic, with couples swaying on the small dance floor, to “Shout” by the Isley Brothers.

Van raises his eyebrows, a clear challenge as the swaying couples turn to boogeying couples all around us. With a grin, I throw my hands up.

This is how we spend the next hour, laughing and touching and kissing as we dance at someone else’s wedding until my feet are sore.

And then, feeling warm and loose and euphoric from the sum total of this evening and the last few days, I lift on my toes, tugging Van down until I can whisper in his ear.

“I have an idea,” I tell him, heart jackhammering away. A bad idea or a great one—I don’t know. It may beright—itfeelsright—but what I’m absolutely sure of is that it’s reckless.

A big, scary thing for the day. A stepping off the platform in order to fly.

And I want it more than I’ve wanted anything. “Pop quiz, hotshot?”

He presses a kiss to my mouth before putting his lips to my ear. There’s no reason to whisper, but we’re both doing it anyway, and it makes me laugh. “Okay. Shoot.”

“Yes or no.”

“Yes or nowhat?”

“That’s the quiz,” I tell him.

“Are you going to tell me what I’m saying yes or no to first?”

“Nope. Yes or no, hotshot. In or out.”

He hesitates for a moment, and my heart beats so fast I almost change my mind. But then he flashes me a grin and says, “Yes. Whatever it is, I’m in.”

CHAPTER 17

Van

I wakeup to the feeling of cold stealing over me, like someone just ripped a blanket away from me, leaving me bare. Wouldn’t be the first time. I shiver and turn, reaching for something or someone and finding nothing.

“Eli, is that you? Not funny, man.”

He would be the one to do it. Maybe Alec? He seems to enjoy sneaking in people’s hotel rooms to mess with them. He’s done it to Nathan more than once when he slept through alarms.

But when I crack open my bleary eyes, I realize I’m not on the road with the guys. I’m at the beachfront resort. And I have no reason to be cold because the bed sheets are pulled up to my chin.

The bed sheets.

Not the blanket from the couch, where I spent most of the week sleeping.

---