Where is a bus when you need one?
I scan the two lanes of traffic, the lights up ahead set to red. Without a second thought, I slide between two stationary cars and edge my way along the row of vehicles.
“Look, Mummy, a princess!” squeals a little girl from the open window of a car.
“Oy! Cinders! Did your carriage turn back into a pumpkin?” A burst of deep laughter sounds from a nearby van, but flipping them off would be unprincessly.No need to ruin everyone’s day.
When the asshole shouts my name again, I panic and stumble, catching myself on the door handle of a car. I barely register my reflection in the darkened window as I pull myself upright, but I do register the door isn’t locked. I don’t know which of us is more surprised when I tug it open.
“What the—”
“Please help me,” I plead, channeling my best damsel in distress as I throw myself across the back seat, only to realize the man I’m looking at isn’t a driver. He’sthedriver. And the man whose lap I’ve literally just thrown myself into?
Well, hot damn.
Chapter 2
EVIE
I find myself staring into the most striking eyes I have ever seen. They’re too vivid to be blue—that they seem violet can only be a trick of the light. Or maybe it’s the frame of the thickest, sootiest lashes I’ve ever seen on a man.
“Are those extensions?” I tighten my grip on what I realize are his lapels.
He looks like the kind of man who takes care of himself. Feels like it, too, thanks to the broad chest I’m currently pressed against. But I’m going to take that wintry, unimpressed twist of his lips asno.
“Wow, real? Mother Nature sure is a joker.” Taking a deep breath, I refocus. “I’m sorry for bursting in on you like this—”
“Quite literally.”
“—but this is an emergency.”
“And this isn’t an ambulance.” His voice is deep and refined and feels like the brush of velvet along my spine. “It also isn’t a wedding car.”
“I’m not going to a wedding,” I snap, my damsel-in-distress act slipping. I glance out of the rear window and spot Mitchell on the sidewalk, scanning the spaces between the idling cars. Mygaze narrows. He should be on his knees thanking God for tinted windows because I won’t be forced to strangle him with my veil.
“Contrary to appearances, you mean?”
“What?” I swipe the gauzy lace out of my face, and when I turn back, I find we’re almost nose to nose.
“Did you run off with the contents of the collection plate?” His brow spikes like an elegant question mark.
“There isn’t a collection at a wedding.” I frown, pulling back and pressing up onto one palm to put a little distance between us. I shouldn’t notice the fine fabric of his pants or the thick muscle of his thigh flexing under them.
Get it together, Evie. The man is wearing a three-piece suit, for gosh sake.
“There is usually a bride.”
As the pretty man’s gaze flicks over me, I decideprettyis doing him a disservice. His face must be a photographer’s delight, all broad strokes and sharp angles, square jawed and with those supermodel cheekbones. His dark hair is glossy and thick, and his eyes are the most unlikely shade of ... whatever that is.
“I might be going to a party,” I object. “A princess party.”
“Except you’re wearing a veil, not a crown, and you’re clearly not six years old. You’re either running to or from a wedding.” His eyes skate over me. “Or running from someone at a wedding.”
Would it be too much to hope that he might be rich and sympathetic? Not traits that often go together, but what choice do I have?
“Yes, okay. I’m running away from a hall of guests and a cheating groom.” I slide my fingers across his chest to straighten his abused lapel, not ready to see pity in his expression.Gosh, his torso seems almost geometric.I wonder if there’s a redSunder here, except that whole eyebrow thing he does makes him look more like a villain. “Please, I just need a ride. Anywhere.” My fingershalt as I come back to myself, realizing it might seem like I’m feeling him up.
A car nearby sounds its horn, and the traffic begins to creep forward, thank God. The knot in my stomach begins to loosen, until his arm moves behind me. The buttery leather seats barely murmur as he settles me against his side, his fingers folding around my shoulder to hold me close. My heart creeps up my throat as he reaches for the door, and the locks click as they engage.
