Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 107453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Bracing myself for her answer, I snag the chance to study the woman in the passenger seat, all lace and tulle, and teeth worrying away at the corner of her lips.
But hold the hell on. Is that worry or something else? Something like…restrained delight as she draws a contemplative breath?
She turns to me in slow-mo, and there’s not a shred of pain in her brown eyes. With an impish shrug, she declares, “North.”
“What the lady wants.” When the light changes, I gun the engine.
As we cruise along the highway, the corners of her lips curve into a bigger grin. “Maybe a little faster,” she says.
“You an adrenaline junkie?”
“Considering it,” she says, smiling more.
“Okaaay,” I say, still treading lightly. Maybe she’s in shock and it’ll all hit her later.
Dev chuckles in the back seat. “You heard the woman.”
“Yeah. Step on it, Ledger,” she says, sounding downright giddy now.
That’s surprising, but maybe it’s a sign? Perhaps this escape isn’t such a bad thing for her? Or maybe she’s laughing before she cries?
No clue.
In a heartbeat, I’m speeding past seventy, barreling toward Wine Country. As much as I’m down with silence, I’d still like to know what the hell is going on in the head of our guest of honor. A little intel would be nice so I can do my job today. “You in the mood for a wine tasting, Aubrey?” I shout against the wind. Maybe I can gage how she’s doing that way.
She snort-laughs, but she doesn’t answer the question. Instead, she asks one. “Can you ride a roller coaster?”
That’s random. “Yes. I’m tall enough.”
She turns back to me, rolling her eyes as the wind whips past us, kicking up the ends of her veil, so it flits around her jaw. “I meant are you guys allowed to? With your contract?”
“It’s not skiing, hang-gliding, skydiving, or moped riding, so yeah.” Dev rattles off some of the hockey contract no-can-dos.
“My dad was obsessed with amusement parks,” Aubrey says, gazing into the distance again and seeing something, maybe the memory of her father. My heart squeezes. Garrett misses the guy too. “He used to take us when we were kids. Since I’m the youngest, he let me pick the order. We rode everything. Every single ride.”
“Sounds nice,” I say. My life as a kid was all hockey, all the time. My path has been crystal clear from the moment my dad took me skating when I was four. If there’s any truth to his story, I was a natural. Soon, though, my path’s going to become all kinds of blurry.
My jaw clenches. Don’t want to think about the season coming up, or the way my knee barked when I went for a run the other day.
Aubrey goes quiet again. Dev’s surprisingly quiet too. When I peek in the rearview mirror, his head is down, bent over his phone.
I want to smack him for scrolling mindlessly at a time like this. But I don’t want to make this moment about digital etiquette, so I ignore his distracted ass, mentally cycling through options for the rest of the day. Maybe there’s an amusement park we could take her to. But before I can even suggest it, Dev shouts victoriously, “The Ultra Blast Amusement Park is two miles away. Want to go?”
Aubrey thrusts an arm in the air, like a rocker salute. “Let’s do it!” Then she shakes her head, like she’s forgotten something. “If you guys want to, that is? Are you up for it?”
She’s seriously asking us what we want to do on her worst day?
“Anything you want,” I answer, then Dev leans forward to add, “I’m all in, Aubrey.”
“Good,” she says, then lets out a strangely contented sigh, her shoulders relaxing as she leans back into the seat, settling in.
Huh.
Maybe Aiden Peters’ exodus in his pie truck wasn’t entirely the worst fate for the bride today. Don’t know if that’s because of her ex’s behavior last night or some other reason entirely.
I don’t really know Aubrey well. For more than a decade, I’ve kept my distance from the little sister of my best friend who also happens to be my agent. I’ve got enough trouble in my life. Don’t need to invite more in the form of a dangerously pretty redhead with a smart mouth, a passion for sports, and a fiancé.
Make that…a former fiancé.
I’d like to punch that asshole. I’d like to tell him he’ll regret the day he ever hurt Aubrey Emerson.
But as I steal a glance at her, I can’t help wondering—did he hurt her? Or…help her?
I noodle on that for another mile or so, until I see the sign for Ultra Blast and turn off the highway, slowing my speed on the street. But the wind whips up Aubrey’s hair again and blows her veil right across her face, lacy fabric smacking her cheeks, sticking to her lips. She bats at it.