Page 64 of Runaway Bride and Prejudice

I shake my head. “I know who she is. But Dad pretty much keeps me from his work world.”

“Is that who you were talking to when I got back? Your dad?” he asks, voice carefully and uncharacteristically neutral.

I have a brief moment of panic as I realize one more logical reason to tread carefully with Van, one Morgan didn’t realize. My dad. He’s kept me away from hockey players because he doesn’t want my heart broken by some athlete. And now, I’m falling for the guy on his team he apparently likes the least.

“That was Morgan,” I say. “She said she’d tell him I’m fine. He’s still pretty upset, and she thought it might make me upset.”

“Howareyou feeling?” Van asks.

I grin. “Shockingly good. Though I feel bad about feeling good, if that makes sense.”

He reaches over and gives me a little pinch. “No guilt. It’s in the rules.”

I tap the notebook. “I actually added that in.”

“That’s what you were writing?” He looks pleased, and warmth fills my chest.

“I had an idea for a blog post. One that’s funny, but also touches on real stuff. A mix of humor and advice. Who knows? Maybe you’ll even get a little credit, considering you keep trying to make the rules.”

He holds up both hands. “I’ll stop. I swear. The rules are up to you. And so is our agenda. So, what are you thinking about doing today?”

I hesitate, remembering the way it felt to see Drew and Becky in the lobby. I may be completely and one hundred percent glad I didn’t marry him, but it doesn’t remove the sting of the whole thing. Or the awkwardness of standing near my cousin while listening to Van shout at my ex-fiancé, who is now apparently Becky’s newofficialboyfriend.

I’m not sure if they’re still here or if they left, and I’d kind of rather not find out.

I pick up the remote. “While you were showering, I happened to findSpeed.”

Van’s lips twist. “We’re at a fancy resort on the ocean, and you want to watch a movie in your pajamas?”

“With room service,” I add, wishing this didn’t sound as lame as it does. I set the remote back on the table. “You can do whatever. It’s not like you have to babysit me.”

He stiffens at this, his jaw tensing underneath a layer of dark stubble. “That’s not what I’m doing, Mills. As long as you want me around, I’m here. Is watching a movie what you really want to do?”

I hesitate. I’m physically and emotionally wrung out. Escaping into a movie sounds phenomenal. So does sharing a couch and a meal with a shirtless Van.

I’d also prefer not seeing Drew and Becky. Ever again. But definitely not today.

“For now. Yes.”

“Okay.” Van picks up the remote, then tosses me the leather room service menu with the hotel logo embossed on the front. “Then a movie and room service it is.”

Two hours and one blown-up bus later, Van and I are reclining on the couch, surrounded by the remnants of half the room service menu, and arguing over whether Keanu Reeves can act or not.

Van is operating under the misguided assumption that Keanu is some kind of robot clone, delivering all of his lines with the same tone and facial expression.

Clearly, he’s incorrect.

“Have you even read about his tragic life?” I press a hand to my chest. “So much pain.”

“No. I have not read about his tragic life. And that’s not what’s in question. It’s his ability toact.”

“I think we’re just going to have to agree to disagree. Or maybe we need more data points!” I reach over and smack him on the thigh. Momentarily get distracted by the width of it. The firmness. Shake my head and drag myself back to the topic at hand. “There’sThe Lake House, which also has Sandra Bullock and?—”

“Or theJohn Wickmovies, where he maintains the same expression the whole time while killing everyone involved in the killing of his dog.”

“His dog dies?” I whisper. “That’s awful.”

“We could also watchThe Matrixmovies where he maintains the same expression while knowing Kung Fu. Because the man can’t act.”

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