Page 10 of Rebel Bride
Please forgive me. I can’t do this.
Then I switched it off. Once in the car, Hatch turned, dipped his gaze quickly to the phone, then back to me.
“You sure?”
“I am.”
With a curt nod, he peeled out of the parking lot space and headed for the street. In the rearview mirror, I spied Peyton Bell, one of Dash’s groomsmen, at the church entrance. Had he seen me? Would he recognize Hatch’s car? Did people already know what I’d done?
So much for fearlessly embracing my new path. Coward that I was, I ducked my head.
Chapter Four
Hatch
* * *
Even in distress, the bride looked beautiful.
Brides always looked beautiful though, right? I couldn’t recall an ugly bride, so my conclusion about Summer’s appearance wasn’t really all that startling. Or maybe I liked that she looked upset. She should be after what she’d done.
None of which explained why I was helping her.
This woman had just jilted a teammate, and I assumed she had not done it to his face, judging by her scrambled exit from a church’s side window. My initial instinct to help a woman in need was now giving way to annoyance that she’d placed me in this position. My team should always come first, and even if Carter was a jerk, he didn’t deserve to be humiliated like this on his wedding day.
“I’ll drop you at home.”
Her gaze snapped to mine, and she bit her lip, which accounted for that bruised fruit look.
“No. Dash will find me there.”
“Right now, he’s being comforted by his friends and family and is probably halfway to getting hammered. He’s not likely to be chasing you down.”
“And you’re sure of this?”
“It’s what I’d do if the woman I was about to marry lost her nerve and jilted me at the altar.”
“I didn’t lose my nerve.”
“Ah, so you planned the poor guy’s destruction on his wedding day.”
I took the corner into downtown Riverbrook where Dash and Summer lived.
“It wasn’t planned! I just knew I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t?—”
“Yep, you said. You more than said. You actually did it. Left the guy in front of everyone he knows.”
She glared at me. “Stop the car.”
“We’re almost there.”
“Stop the car!”
I pulled over, just past the gates to Founders’ Park. She yanked at the passenger door handle. It took her a couple of tries to get it open.
“Seriously?”
She held up a hand. “Thank you kindly for the ride. I’ll make my own way from here.”
