Page 27 of Runaway Bride and Prejudice

All things considered, the fact that Coach is her dad takes Amelia’s offer fromprobably a bad ideatorun far away and run fast.

I lift a hand from the wheel to scratch at my stubble. How can I let her down easy—without hurting her feelings or making her feel rejected?

Or worse, unwanted?

Especially when that’s the opposite of the problem I’m having here. I want to go too much.

“I probably shouldn’t. I mean, I can’t.”

Any pretense of an excuse zips right out of my brain. Leaving me to sound like a first-class jerk. I think even the dog ate my homework would have sounded better than justI can’t. Full stop.

“No problem,” Amelia says quickly,tooquickly, waving a hand. “Kind of a silly idea. Morgan suggested it. Just so I wouldn’t be …”

Alone. She doesn't say the word out loud, but she doesn’t have to. It’s right there between us, making me feel like the scum of the earth for saying no.

Amelia just found out her fiancé was cheating with her cousin. Now all she wants is tonottake their intended honeymoon by herself.

I drop my hand to my chest, which feels tight at the thought.

Coach’s daughter, I remind myself.On the heels of an epic breakup.

Coach’s daughter. Whom you’re absurdly attracted to.

Amelia is like a bad idea sandwich. Or no—a bad ideabuffet.

Nope, nope, and more nope.

Amelia struggles with her dress, finally managing to shove enough of it up out of the way to release her feet. She puts them up on the dash. “Is this okay? My toes on your nice car?”

I glance over. Normally, I don’t love people messing with my stuff. Putting their hands—much less their feet—on my gear, my place, my car. But for some reason, I don’t mind Amelia’s small feet with their light pink toenails on my dash. I’m not, like, a foot guy or anything, but her toes are cute.

“It’s fine.”

I reach a stop sign at the bottom of the hill. We’re at the end of my thinking and audiobook route. Instead, I ask, “If you’re going on your trip, should I drive you to the airport? Do you have bags packed somewhere?”

“Morgan has them. But I could always buy new stuff if I need to. I have Drew’s credit card. Would it be bad to max it out?”

“He’d deserve it if you did. And then some.”

“I’ll think of some more creative form of justice,” she says, making me smile. “I just need time.”

“Let me know if you need help. I’ll happily help you deliver creative justice.”

Ameila tilts her head back and laughs. It’s tinged with a little bit of hysteria. “Good to know. Do your services extend past getaway driver and creative justice wielder?”

“You’ll never know the extent of my skills.” I say it in an over-the-top flirty way. Trying to keep things light and teasing.

“Wow,” she says dryly. “Do these kinds of lines work on women?”

“Typically, I don’t need lines.”

It’s true. But I’m leaning into this a little harder than necessary. Am I trying to show off or scare her off? Unsure.

“You do know that’s gross, right?” She tilts her head toward me, toes curling a little on the dash.

“You do know I’m kidding, right?” I ask.

She arches an eyebrow. It’s cute. “Are you? Because I heard you’re the bad boy of the Appies.”

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