Page 53 of Runaway Bride and Prejudice

“Uh oh,” Van says, backing up until he’s waist-deep, just past where the waves curl and break. “Looks like I woke the beast.”

“Are you callingmea beast?” I ask, feigning outrage. I stop a few feet away, hands on my hips, rocking a little as waves slap gently at my middle.

His smile widens. “Are you fishing for a compliment, Mills?”

“No.”Was I?“But I’d prefer not to think of myself as beastly.”

Especially on a day like today. I barely swallow rather than say those last words. Maybe I am fishing for compliments.

Or just a sense of being wanted, being desired. Even if, in the end, I didn’t want Drew, he didn’t want me first.

There’s something about having a man choose someone else over you, or even choose someone else along with you in my case, that’s shaking my confidence down to its roots. It sends thought cockroaches scurrying across my mind, the sort of worries and ideas that creep out in the darkness when you’re lying in bed.

And I don’t need Van seeing any more of my vulnerabilities when he’s already been witness to so much humiliation.

There’s a tight pinch in my chest, and suddenly, it’s hard to catch my breath.

I may not have spoken the words, but I swear, Van knows. The smile slips from his space, and the crease reappears between his brows.

“Mills—” Van starts.

Before he can finish whatever pitying words he’s about to say, I dive beneath the surface.

The shock is exactly what I need to zap away the icky feelings. I can’t give weight to the unwanted emotions when all I can feel iscold.

Kicking off the sandy bottom, I swim toward where Van stood, hands outstretched. Almost immediately, my fingertips brush Van’s calf.

He has the reflexes of a cat—or, I guess, or of a hockey player—and darts to the left. But not quickly enough. I wrap both arms around his knees and push off the bottom, lifting his legs off the ground and sending him toppling backwards as I surface.

Thank you, buoyancy and the Archimedes principle. And high school physics, I guess, for teaching me these terms I’ve never thought about until now.

The moment Van tips over, I release him and duck back under water, kicking away. When I come up for air, he’s alreadyback on his feet, sputtering and gasping, frantically scanning the water. His eyes land on me, and I can visibly see his shoulders sink with what looks like relief.

Was he worried about me?

Just as quickly, his eyes narrow and his expression shifts to something darker and dangerous. Keeping his gaze pinned on me, he shakes water from his hair, tilting his head to one side then the other, like he’s clearing out water from his ears.

I grin.Sorry, not sorry, big guy.

“Quite a display of strength there, Mills. And subterfuge.”

“Quite a display of vocabulary.”

“I told you; I like to read,” Van says, and before I start to pick that statement apart with a million questions about his reading, he speaks again. “Have you been lifting weights, Mills? Is wrestling your sport of choice?”

“Neither. I simply used the element of surprise combined with the effects of buoyancy against you. It’s what happens when people call me a beast.”

Van narrows his eyes and takes a step forward, his movement predatory. I take a step backward, my heart starting to hammer in my chest.

“You didn’t let me finish,” Van says, continuing to advance.

Slowly. Steadily. My heart feels as though it might fling itself right out of my chest as I continue to back away, needing to take two steps for each one of his.

“Oh? Did you have another insult to add?” I ask.

“Hardly.”

But Van doesn’t tell me whatever else he planned to say, and I can tell from the gleam of his smile that he knows it’s driving me mad. I realize too late that Van has changed his angle, sidestepping until he’s now between me and the shore, putting the deep water at my back. Which means I can only go so far. I’m already almost shoulder deep as he advances toward me.

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