Page 18 of Runaway Bride and Prejudice

“Important question: what should I call you? Robbie or Van?”

“You can call me whatever.”

“Should I add that to the rules?” I tease.

“Totally.”

“But what would you prefer?”

“Van is what I go by. Almost no one calls me Robbie. Or even knows that’s my real name.”

Interesting. Because the night we met, he said his name was Robbie. I immediately want to ask who “almost no one” is, but I don’t.

“Did you introduce yourself with a different name the night we met because you knew who I was?”

He winces. “No. I had no idea you were Coach’s daughter. Not until I saw him with you, put the pieces together, and?—”

“Then ran away like a coward?” I suggest cheerfully.

I wait for him to bristle. To bluster and argue the way Drew would at being told he was cowardly.

But Van only chuckles. “That about sums it up. I’m sorry. It was stupid. I should have come back over and dealt with the fallout.” He pauses, then glances over. No hint of a smile this time. “I don’t think I’m your dad’s favorite.”

“Ihaveheard your name from him before—Van.”

His dark brows practically hit his hairline. “Yeah? He’s talked about me?”

“No. He uses your name as a curse word. You know, like, he’ll stub his toe and yell,Van it!Or call things aVanshame.”

This earns me a laugh, deep and husky. I catch myself grinning, then force my face back to neutral. Nothing should be funny right now. I definitely shouldn’t be enjoying myself with some guy right after running from a wedding with another guy.

You make the rules, I remind myself, and it makes me feel slightly better. Because it feels good to laugh right now.

“I was kidding by the way. About my dad using your name as a curse.”

Mostly. I mean, Dad doesn’t use Van as a curse but I definitely have heard him muttering about Van before. He tries not to bring work home with him, which I think is mostly due to him wanting to keep me disconnected from his hockey guys.

And now … I’m running away from my wedding with one of the players he likes the least.

“Oh.” Van seems relieved. “If you were serious, I’d be a little more worried about having you in my car right now.”

“You might still need to be worried.”

“Too late. I’m committed to seeing this thing through.”

Though most of the conversation is light and teasing, Van’s words have a warm bubble of happiness buoying my mood. He makes me feel less alone, like we’re partners or a tiny team.

A comfortable silence falls between us as Van heads west, toward the rolling hills at the edge of town, feeding into the Appalachian mountains that surround Harvest Hollow. Something eases in me the farther we get from the church and today’s events. I shuffle the skirt of my dress around so I can sink more comfortably into the seat.

“Are you taking me to an isolated spot to murder me?” I ask. “Because my dad would definitely murder you back. Andmy phone shares my location with Morgan, who is like the Liam Neeson of best friends.”

“I have no murderous plans, aside from the one to run over your ex.”

My ex. That is going to take some getting used to. Not as much in the emotional sense as the realization that I am now a woman who had a fiancé, almost had a wedding, and now has an ex. It says a lot about how I felt—ordidn’tfeel—about Drew that I’m more concerned about the titles and the practical details than the person I lost.

Good freaking riddance.

“So, where are we?”

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