Page 5 of Runaway Bride for the Boss

The door leads to a small room with an adjacent bathroom, containing a small chest and a mirrored sink. I avoid catching my reflection as I step out of my dress. I never want to lay eyes on this tulle monstrosity again. Like most things in my life, it was selected for Larson’s approval. He likes me to wear clothes that are restrictive andsophisticatedto fit his mold and not to draw too much attention from him.

Women are never to be bold; they should opt for subtle elegance andneutrals—ugh. I’m a colorful woman with a big, bold personality, and the sooner I remember that the better! I rip the bodice, sending buttons scattering, and inhale what feels like my first full breath in hours—maybe months if I’m being honest. It’s dripping wet, but there’s nowhere to hang it in here, so I just toss it in the corner, smiling when I absorb the finality of the moment. There’s no going back now.

I do the same with my matching panties and bra, shoving them inside the dress to be somewhat discreet. Not usually one to go commando, I feel a bit uncomfortable, but the sight of those delicate lace undergarments, a gift from Larson, makes me want to hurl.

Goosebumps pebble my skin, and I quickly use the towel folded over the clothes she had left for me to dry my skin and hair. Then I throw on the joggers and shirt. The pants are a couple inches too long, Andrea is tall—or maybe I’m just short, so I fold the hem and drag them up past my belly button. I’m swimming in the shirt, so I doubt it’s hers, but there’s nothing to be done about that. At least I’m warm and dry…and not married. That’s what counts.

I inhale deeply, then leave the bathroom. She’s lounging on the oversized couch when I reenter the office, and she waves me over. “Here.” She passes me a mug.

A quick sniff lets me know it’s alcohol, and I hesitate briefly before knocking it back. I gasp at the unexpected burn and dramatically lift my hand to my throat, as if that will do anything to ease the harsh descent of the liquid before it pools in my belly, warming me further. The room does a slow spin around me, and I sway a little.

She jumps up to grab my arm. “Whoa, I wasn’t expecting you to drink it all at once! That’s about three shots of Jameson you just annihilated.” She chuckles lightly. “I guess you needed it more than I realized.”

I blink rapidly as she guides me to the couch. “I’m sorry. It’s been a very long day.”

“I can imagine.” She takes a seat next to me, leaving a small space between us. “You said you’re here regarding my help-wanted sign?”

I nod shortly. “Yes. I assume you’re the manager. I’m Wre—Autumn. I’m Autumn Montgomery.”

Her raised brow lets me know she definitely noticed the slip. I can’t believe I almost introduced myself as Wren. I’m Autumn, damn it!

“I’m Andrea, the owner of Liquid Elixir. Do you have any experience bartending?”

I swallow hard. “No. But I worked as a waitress for a couple of years. I know they aren’t the same, but I’m quick on my feet and a fast learner. I’m not afraid to work hard,” I add with my cheesiest smile. The alcohol must be working its magic.

Andrea sighs, watching me quietly for a few moments. “Autumn, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before, so that means you’re not local. You came in here in a wedding dress, dripping wet and looking lost. Are you in trouble?”

I sit up straight. Shit. “You’re right, I’m not a local. I’m from New York. However, rest assured, there won’t be any trouble. I was in my wedding dress because I finally came to my senses just before it was too late, but I doubt my ex will look for me here.”

“You drove all the way to Brattleboro from New York? That’s almost an eight hour drive. Have you eaten?” As if on cue, my stomach grumbles again. Warmth engulfs my face down to my neck, and I know my cheeks are likely as red as a ripe tomato.

“No,” I mumble. I haven’t been in many interviews in my life, but this is one of the strangest I’ve had.

“You know what? You’re hired!”

I glance up in surprise. “What?”

“I know what it’s like to be lost and floundering. I was there once. However, It’s a conditional offer, you’ll have to pull your weight. If the next two weeks go well, the job becomes permanent.”

“That’s more than fair. Thank you so much, Andrea, I won’t let you down.”

She gives me a small smile. “I have no doubts about that. Since you’re new in town, you can stay with me above the bar until you get your own place. I have a spare room.”

My lips part again. I’m floored. I sniff deeply as I blink back another flood of tears. Andrea continues. “The bar opens at five in the evening and generally closes by midnight, dependingupon how busy we are. Because of the rain, customers are lingering tonight; but I’m going to kick them out soon.”

That reminds me, “What time is it?”

“Just past one. Hold on, I’ll be back soon.” I nod as Andrea leaves the office. She soon comes back with two halves of what looks to be the most delicious club sandwich I’ve ever laid eyes on. I inhale it within minutes, along with a bottle of water.

It’s strange. First the whiskey and now food. I’m usually not this trusting with strangers. Is it the situation or just Andrea? She does have a comforting quality about her, like she’s dependable. And she’s been kind to me so far, so what could go wrong?

After eating, I follow her to the bar and lurk in the corner as, true to her word, she kicks everyone out, announcing that she needs to get her beauty sleep. The patrons protest, but they slowly trickle out the door.

Andrea introduces me to Keith, a student at the local college who only works three nights a week. About thirty minutes or so later, Andrea and Keith lock up. The storm has slowed from the heavy downpour, but it’s still ominous. Andrea leads me to the side of the building where there’s an ornate iron railing and small gate. Behind the gate are tiled stairs leading to the second floor.

I follow Andrea up the stairs, which lead to a wide balcony filled with potted plants and a string of lights over a rustic wooden swing. We’re sheltered from the brunt of the wind up here, and I’m able to take in my surroundings. I note the rustic brick finish on the building continues to those surrounding us. From what I’ve seen so far, this town is as quaint as they come, and the occupants are exceptionally accommodating. I feel surprisingly at ease, considering it’s been less than twelve hours since I fled the city, Larson, and our entire life together.

She moves to the front door, which surprisingly has a complex lock installed, complete with a code and fingerprint scanner. Unexpected for a small-town bar; it certainly stands out against the aged building and rustic furnishings.

---