Page 66 of The Runaway Bride of Blitzen Bay (Blitzen Bay)

I whip the duvet back. I realize too late that the T-shirt I’m wearing only comes to my waist. He takes a slow scan of my bare legs from my feet all the way up. His eyes stop when they reach my undies. He’s not moving.

“Nash?” I say, pulling the duvet back over me quickly.

“Yep, yep. I’m fine,” he says as he turns around. “Why don’t I let you get dressed? I’ll be downstairs.”

After he closes the door, I hear him yell, “I’ll come back up here if you’re not in the lobby in ten minutes.”

“Stop being so bossy!” I yell at the closed door. “You’re no longer one of my favorite people.”

I throw on a pair of jeans and a white tank top covered by a gray v-neck sweater. I pull my hair over into a messy side braid, brush my teeth, splash some water on my face, and I’m out the door. As I make it to the top of the staircase, Nash is looking up.

“Ten minutes and thirty-two seconds,” he says, pointing to his phone.

“I’m always five minutes late everywhere I go, so if you go by that logic, I’m four minutes and twenty-eight seconds early.”

“That’s not logic. That’s tardiness and it’s unacceptable,” he says, pulling me over to the bench by the front door. He grabs my boots and starts putting one of them on me.

“You know, I can put on my boots,” I say, reaching for the other one. He swats my hand away.

“This is a full-service excursion.”

“Maybe you should start offering this to all the tourists. You could make a lot of money.”

He finishes and stands up—pulling me up with him. He holds my coat open for me.

“I only accept clients who crawl into the back of my truck. Luckily that limits my responsibility only to crazy runaway brides.”

“On behalf of runaway brides everywhere, we accept your proposal.”

He zips my coat and leans closer to me. “The other runaways can tie their own shoes. I think I’ve made it pretty clear that you’re the only one I’m interested in.”

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