Page 108 of Runaway Bride and Prejudice

“Logan gets in his head and wants to be alone. Because he came from the NHL and the Appies are a minor league team, he has a lot to prove.”

“And what does Nathan do that means Summer isn’t coming?”

Parker snorts and leans forward, eyes bright. “Nathan, apparently, likes to cuddle.”

I burst out laughing at this. I met Nathan today, but I remember seeing him before. Mostly because he is terrifying. He looks like he could rap all the limbs from a man’s body over breakfast.

“Who likes to cuddle?”

Two women pull out the empty chairs at our table. The one who asked the question has medium brown hair and freckles. She’s carrying a large instrument case and sets it beside the table. “You must be Amelia. I’m Gracie,” she says, extending a hand.

“I’m Bailey.” The other woman is wearing scrubs and gives me a shy smile as she takes the seat beside me.

“Nice to meet you both.”

“I was talking about Nathan cuddling,” Parker explains.

Gracie laughs. “It’s always the ones with the tough outer shell.”

“Nathan?” Bailey asks. “Cuddling?”

“That’s why Summer isn’t here,” Parker says. “All the guys do different things when it’s playoff time. What about Felix and Eli?” Parker leans closer to me. “Gracie is dating Felix—thegoalie—and Bailey is married to Eli, the blond who looks like he just drank from a firehose of pure sunshine.”

Bailey grins at this. “He really does, doesn’t he? For playoffs, I’m not sure he does anything different. Not that I’d know since we’re still … new.” Her cheeks go pink at this. “He likes to play with the dogs. But that’s pretty normal for him. I think?”

She thinks? I wonder how long the two of them have been together.

I feel suddenly like I’ve been shoved just outside of the circle. Everyone but me is paired up with one of the players. I mean, sure—technically, I am too. I’ve got more legal claim on Van than Gracie or Summer or even Parker. But for all intents and purposes, I am notwithhim. Which makes me the odd woman out.

A tug of longing moves through me. I can picture how easy it would be to slide right into this group, to complain about whatever weird thing Van does during playoffs.

The longing is quickly replaced by anger. Because Van wrecked what we had after it barely began.

The waitress appears and takes Gracie and Bailey’s drink orders. Bailey gets fries and a chocolate malt while Gracie chooses a glass of red wine and a wedge salad.

Gracie leans forward and lowers her voice. “Don’t tell him I told you, but Felix is baking.”

“Baking?” I ask. “Baking what?”

Gracie’s smile is soft. “He’s baking his way through a box of recipes that were his grandmother’s.”

Parker groans and drops her head to the table. “How is it that I get the guy who doesn’t want to see me so he can focus, and everyone else gets cuddling and puppies and baking?” She sits up, turning her gaze suddenly to me. “What about Van?”

I jolt, knocking over my drink. Bailey jumps up as a tidal wave of Diet Dr Pepper goes her way.

“Sorry! So sorry.” I frantically try to stop the flow of liquid, but I’d need a few dozen more napkins to even make a dent.

The waitress reappears and sweeps the mess into a dustpan using a bar rag. “I’ll bring you another one,” she says with a sigh.

I’m sure my cheeks are flaming, but I do my best to force my face into some kind of normal expression. “Why are you asking me about Van? I have no idea what he does. Or is doing. Van and I are … nothing. We’re not anything. So, I have no idea.”

I definitely said too much there. There’s a brief pause in which the three of them simply stare.

Parker smiles a little too sweetly. “Of course. You’re right. I was just testing a theory.”

“A theory about Amelia and Van?” Bailey asks, tilting her head curiously.

“There is no me and Van,” I say, waving my hands. This time I avoid knocking over any drinks. But I’m still being overly dramatic. Someone might as well plop me into the middle of a Shakespeare play for all the protests I’mdothing too much.

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