Page 65 of Rebel Bride
Fucking Jason. Stealing my job. Probably my women.
Landon
Whoever Jason’s banging is not the same demo as you.
Conor
Speaking of puck bunnies, any news on the Carter and Summer front? Hot Goss doesn’t even know where she is, and those guys always have the inside track. They’re offering a “Where’s Summer?” reward.
I shot upright. Offering a what?
I checked the Hot Goss site and sure enough they were monitoring “sightings of Summer” and offering an unnamed sum for information on her whereabouts. So far she’d been spotted in Miami, Vancouver, Bismarck—I snorted at that one—and in such far-flung places as Ibiza and the south of France. I smiled to myself. No one would even think of looking for her here.
Addy
She’s taking some time for herself, as she should.
Conor
Yeah, but what happened? NoBo said she ran off with a firefighter.
Landon
No, he didn’t. He said she would have had to call the fire department because how else did she get out of that bathroom window without help?
Shit. Boden had seen me right under that window before the service was due to begin.
Calm the fuck down. If NoBo suspected anything, he would have reached out.
Unless he told Carter first.
I shook myself awake and pulled on my board shorts. No one knew anything. It was all speculation because everyone loved to gossip, and this was prime tabloid fodder.
Me
Maybe she was a gymnast in a former life. Or she has cat DNA. Or she jumped no fucking problem.
Conor
In Jimmy Choo heels?
I growled. I was going to kill my brother. Still, Summer would probably get a kick out of it. She had eased up over the last few days, and I was happy to say I might have contributed to that. Thinking of her as she lay on the hood of my car, her beautiful skin gilded by moonlight as I brought her off made me unaccountably happy. And that was before she spent the night in my bed.
There were obstacles. A fuckload of reasons why this couldn’t work. But after last night, I was determined to figure them out.
I headed up to the house, feeling like one of those idiots in a cartoon, prancing through the forest while woodland sprites and baby deer frolicked around me. If I strained my ear, I could hear bluebirds chirping and butterfly wings flapping because the world was in Technicolor and life was good.
Summer wasn’t in the kitchen. It was spotless so maybe she had headed straight to the shower.
I shot off a text.
How about breakfast, Sunshine?
I started on the coffee, then looked for the griddle to make French toast. My dad’s famous recipe was called for here.
My phone buzzed with a reply.
Sunshine
