Page 13 of The Runaway Bride of Blitzen Bay (Blitzen Bay)

Chapter Seven

NOELLE

December 21

Los Angeles, California

“Well, it’s just like a dream come true.”

My mom’s face glows as she pauses for a second to look meaningfully at each of the reporters. They’re all gathered around her in a scrum—like she’s the winning coach after a big game. Their faces are expectant—trying to get at least one intimate detail of the big day. Mom doesn’t disappoint.

She leans closer to them and whispers loudly, “You know we almost had to put a moat around Noelle’s room last night to keep Steven away. He’s finding it hard to wait until tomorrow night!”

The reporters giggle knowingly. They’ve been here all day—tracking our every step. They’ve not only witnessed our kisses—they’ve almost been a part of them.

It’s Friday—the official move-in day at the estate for our closest family and friends. There are twenty rooms for special guests to stay the night before the wedding. The rooms include two suites—one for the bride and one for the groom—separated by a large courtyard.

I watch my mom entertain the press for a few more seconds and then head back to my suite to freshen up for dinner. Our rehearsal dinner has become the social event of the season. Of course, that has nothing to do with Steve and me—or my mom. The glitterati’s here solely for Steve’s dad.

Trip Walker is a millionaire Texas oilman turned movie producer. When he got bored with Dallas, he bought a production company in L.A. and has become the Hollywood “it” man. The entertainment media follow him around everywhere. His secretary makes sure they have a full itinerary of his activities when he’s in town except for his many late-night “meetings” with various young actresses and models. Every woman who meets him falls under his spell—except me. I’ve never been a fan.

I lock the door to my suite behind me and lean heavily against it. The room looks like a big cloud. Everything’s white. It’s unsettling. I collapse down on the tufted, white chaise and try to lose myself in the pile of fluffy white pillows.

“I don’t think you can hide in there—unless you put on your wedding dress—then you might blend in.” I look up to see Kit’s face peeking through the white voile curtains covering the open French windows.

“Kit! What are you doing?” I jump across the room to help her over the windowsill. She tucks her head and does a forward roll into the room, throwing her hands in the air like she’s an Olympic gymnast who’s just completed the perfect landing.

“Nailed it,” she says as she reaches into her pocket to retrieve an airplane-sized bottle of vodka. She grins up at me. “Yet another reason dresses should always have pockets.”

I look out the window to try to figure out how she got to the second floor. “Did you climb up that drainpipe?”

“Yeah. I barely got a grip on the window before the pipe gave way. They’re going to need to fix that before the next rain.”

“You breaking your neck is not what I need right now.” I walk back over and plop down on my bridal throne. “Do you have any more vodka?”

She hands me two mini bottles out of her other pocket.

“You know if Mom catches you in here, she’ll kill you with her own bare hands,” I say as I pop one of the bottles open and drain it.

“Have you seen what Leni’s wearing? I’m surprised she can move at all, much less run. There’s no way she could catch me.”

“She looks like a toothpick in shrink-wrap.” We both bust out laughing and then slam our hands over our mouths immediately. Too late.

“Noelle!” My mom shrieks from outside the door. She’s been following me everywhere today. I think she senses I’m losing my focus. “Is someone in there with you? If it’s Steven, I will hog tie and whip him myself!”

“No one’s in here, Mom. It’s just me. I was practicing a breathing technique my yogi taught me.” I throw my lipstick at Kit who continues to muffle her laugh as she rolls behind the bar cart to take cover.

The doorknob rattles loudly. “Noelle! Unlock this door!”

“Go downstairs to dinner, Mom. I’ll be down after I finish my yoga.”

“California has absolutely ruined you!” She slaps the door to emphasize her point. “You have ten minutes to get downstairs.”

Kit pops her head out from around the cart, but waits until we hear the brisk clicking of Mom’s stilettos fade before she scowls and says, “Am I the only one who thinks she sounded a little too excited to ‘hog tie and whip’ Steve?”

I sigh as I lean back into the chaise. “That whole mess is definitely not something I want to get into right now.”

“Speaking of messes, what the hell did Leni do to the room you’re getting married in? It looks like Santa threw up in it.”

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