Page 1 of Runaway Bride and Prejudice

PART ONE- RUNAWAY BRIDE

CHAPTER 1

Van

People saywhen one door closes, another one opens. And maybe that’s true.

But I wanna know what people say when one door opens and you find the groom hooking up with someone who’snotthe bride—less than an hour before the wedding.

In a church, no less. Classy.

There’s some special ring of Dante’s Inferno set aside for people who cheaton their wedding day. This guy—whose name is so forgettable, I don’t remember it, though I probably should—is like whatever insect belongs on the ladder rung beneath cockroaches.

And he’s supposed to be marrying my coach’s daughter.

Amelia. Even just her name sends a disturbing twinge ofsomethingthrough me—something I’d like to ignore. An unfamiliar emotion landing somewhere between jealousy and an irrepressible—and maybe irrational—longing.

Whatever I shouldn’t be feeling regarding Amelia, I think I’m pretty safe experiencing rage at the sight of her fiancé with someone else while wearing his wedding tux.

Some guys might have walked right back out of the room.

Pretended they saw nothing.

Kept their mouths shut.

I am notsome guys.

All I wanted was to take a leak before the ceremony in case it was one of those long ones with a lot of readings and singing. I’ve been dragged to my fair share of weddings, and long ones are the worst if you need the bathroom.

Then, I planned to avoid making eye contact with Amelia for the duration of the wedding, enjoy the open bar, and go home alone to sulk. Or move on. Whatever.

But then, I saw Coach walking toward me in the hallway, eyes on the phone in his hand. He hadn’t seen me. Yet.

Considering the fact that I’malwayson his naughty list,neveron the nice list, I didn’t really want to open myself up to a lecture. Had I stopped to think about it, I might have realized Coach isn’t concerned with his least favorite player on the day of his daughter’s wedding.

But I didn’t stop to think. I ducked into this office—and a situation I can’t ignore.

“Guess this isn’t the bathroom. Sorry,” I say, not sounding sorry at all.

I lean casually on the doorframe, not taking my eyes off the dirtbag adjusting his tux. The woman he was kissing dove behind the large mahogany desk when I walked in, and I can hear her shuffling around back there. Probably trying to fix her dress. Or maybe digging herself a hole to climb into. Solid plan.

The dude has the decency to look sort of apologetic, though it’s more likesorry I got caughtthan thesorry for being atrash human. Quickly, though, his expression quickly turns to irritation.

LikeI’mthe one doing something wrong here. Classic cheater’s projection.

“The door was locked,” he says. “You shouldn’t be in here.”

I cock an eyebrow. “It wasn’t locked. And you’re going to blow by apologies and excuses and skip straight to blame-shifting? Huh.”

“I don’t owe you an explanation. I don’t even know you.”

“True. You don’t owe me anything.” I slide my hands into my pockets. Deceptively casual. “Now—as for what you owe Amelia …”

His face pales at the mention of the woman he’s supposed to marry in less than half an hour. So, there’s at leastsomeshred of humanity in this guy. I remember the way he clasped Amelia’s hand last night at the rehearsal dinner, all emotional and moved during the toasts.

He’s a good actor—I’ll give him that.

I amnotan actor, which is why my teammates kept giving me a hard time, asking why I was so quiet last night. Why I wasn’t drinking. Or flirting with any women.

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