Page 99 of Runaway Bride and Prejudice

“When you're super fun, you usually don't have totellpeople you’re super fun,” Parker points out.

The two of them go back and forth while I’m signing … and signing and signing. Summer briefly explains each document in a way I can understand, telling me I can take my time if I want to read everything. Which I definitely don’t. She can keep her paperwork Roman Empire.

I’m just handing back the last page when someone walks right into her office, already talking. A someone whose deep voice makes all those alert hairs on my arms stand straight up.

“Yo, Summer. Got a minute?”

Van steps into the room.

I can’t help but turn, like he’s at the other end of a tether. One that just yanked me tight. I suck in a breath.

He jerks to a stop, blinking at me like I’m a mirage he hopes will disappear. The way his eyes go flat makes my chest hurt.

I wonder if he knew I was going to be working here. My dad probably told him.

Or,I think, watching a flurry of emotions pass over his face,maybe not.

The last time I saw him, he was asleep. Shirtless. I woke up the morning after our wedding draped over him, my cheek pressed to his dragon tattoo. I remember the sudden spike of panic, theOh crap what did I do?

But after a moment of listening to his slow breaths and watching his lashes flutter on his cheeks, the panic subsided into a warm affection. A sense of rightness and peace about it all.

Then I slipped out of bed and saw the text.

Now, he’s standing just a few feet away with his dark, messy head of hair. The broad shoulders and a jawline I've traced with both my fingers and my mouth.

He shaved.

Why his smooth, bare jaw feels like a betrayal, I’m not sure. But I remember telling him I loved his facial hair. Remember running my fingers over it. Kissing it.

I remember the way it felt against my skin …

His eyes slide away from me as his jaw clenches. Something deep inside me sinks, and I grab tightly to my anger with both fists. I’ve found that anger makes the very best shield against hurt.

As long as I ignore the little ugly voice asking me if Van might be hurting too. If me leaving while he slept had the same impact onhimas reading Dad’s text had onme.

“I already told you, Van,” Summer says, rolling her eyes. “We’re not going to trademark your face.”

Parker snorts.

“Uh, it's not that,” he says, already starting to back out of the office. “I’ll come back later. When you’re not, you know, busy.”

“No, it’s fine. We’re almost done,” Parker says, getting to her feet and waving Van toward the empty chair right next to me.

I should get up, but instead, I grip the arms of my chair tighter. Everything in me is screaming that I should run right out of the office. Okay, noteverything. Because another tiny part—one which clearly suffered a lobotomy—wishes I could run right into his arms.

Van freezes, his mouth opening and then closing again before dropping into the chair next to me. So close I can feel the heat of him and smell the familiar masculine scent.

I wish this chair had an eject button to shoot me straight through the roof of the building and out into space. Apparently,a secret marriage supplies my brain with cartoon solutions—like running through walls and being shot out of my seat.

Actually … tying Van down to a set of train tracks doesn’t sound so bad right now.

Summer frowns as she looks between me and Van and then back to Parker.“Do you know Amelia?” Summer asks, gesturing toward me. “She’s new, and she’s awesome.”

Oh, heknows meall right.

I will my cheeks not to blush, like I can consciously control the most subconscious reactions.

“We’ve met,” I say, trying to smile even though my voice sounds like a blade.

---