Page 80 of Runaway Bride and Prejudice

Don’t miss this, he said, nudging me, as the sun was just about to dip below the horizon and I had been looking at him instead.

I’ve never felt happier, nor so safe, nor so …loved.

That’s the one word that fits. Against all odds, all logic, all reason. I can barely think it to myself without cringing.

Because … it can’t be.

Right?

I shake my head a little, a physical attempt to shake off my hopes, married with my worries.Enjoy it, I tell myself.Don’t think too hard about what it means.

Or what it will be like returning home.

Now, I reach across the little table between our lounge chairs and pinch Van’s arm. We’ve been at the resort’s adults only pool since lunch, and I’m not sure if he’s awake, his dark eyes hidden by mirrored Walmart aviators. They look every bit as good on him as any name brand would.

Van leans on an elbow and pushes up the sunglasses, shooting me a mock glare with his dark eyes. The look zings through me like a pinball shot from a cannon.

“What was that for, Mills?”

I grin. “Paying you back for the other day.”

“That was for breaking the rules. Did I break a rule I don’t know about?”

“Nope.”

“When are you going to share your rules with me, Mills?”

He’s been asking every day when he catches me scribbling in the yellow notebook. More since I started borrowing his phone to draft not one but a few Substack posts, which are nowhere near ready to publish. Yet.

I’m not just working on the rules. Everything about this experience has opened me up, like Drew’s actions cracked open a locked safe. And now … I’m exploring the contents.

I have a million ideas for posts and even some job ideas to look for when I get back and am reunited with my phone and computer. While it’s super strange not to have a phone and to share Van’s, it’s honestly refreshing and has been a boon to my creativity. It’s also been fun to look through his reading apps, though we share almost none of the same books. The man needs more romance novels in his life.

As supportive as Van has been, I’m still not ready to share my words. Also, a good deal of my journaling has been me processing my feelings. Many of which center aroundhim.

“Soon,” I promise.

Suddenly feeling shy, I shrug, playing with the strap of my bathing suit. This is the one I like the best—a pink one-piece with side cutouts and ruffles along the bust. It’s pretty wholesome with just a nod of sexy where my sides are exposed and in the low dip of the back. I’ve gotten used to my new wardrobe, which is a good thing as the airline has no idea where my bags are. Maybe in Antarctica with Drew.

Van’s dark gaze tracks the movement of my fingers, and then he drops his glasses back in place and reclines again. I swearI can almost feel the echo of his gaze lingering on me like a physical caress, a heated whisper tracing my skin.

“Well,” Van says, “how about we stick to the no waking sleeping dragons rule, yeah?” he says, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smirk.

“You’re a dragon now?”

He taps the extensive ink on his chest, which I’ve studied at length in the many hours he’s spent shirtless the past few days. Because apparently, Van prefers to wear as little clothing as possible while on vacation.

You won’t hear me complaining.

I jump when Van makes a rumbling growl in his chest. The low sound sends a sharp tug of want through me. Then again, pretty much everything Van does has a similar effect.

From the way he listens so intently and watches me just as carefully, like he wants to make sure I’m telling the truth and uses my body language as a lie detector test. He’s good too. Always able to sense where I’m hesitating. Abruptly, I stand up, stretching and relishing in the warm lick of sun on my skin. “I’m going for a swim.”

“I’ll join you in a minute,” Van says, but then he yawns, and I suspect his eyes have already closed behind the mirrored lenses of his sunglasses. His dragon, though, is still watching.

The faint outline of the lopsided smiley face I drew in sunscreen is still visible on Van’s abs, making me chuckle as I walk away.

I don’t bother with the steps or lowering myself down and getting used to the water in stages. I hold my breath and jump right into the deep end, blowing bubbles until my feet touch the concrete at the bottom.

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