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He throws his hands up in surrender. “Hey, it’s your business. Just don’t blame me if you’re not able to dance at your own wedding.”
“I’m not having a wedding. I mean, I was. But not anymore.” I try to cross my arms over my chest, but it still hurts to shift my weight into my injured leg. I catch onto his arm, then lower my head to hide how flushed my face has become. “I didn’t think I would attract this much attention.”
Everything about this is so shameful. The onlookers. The cameras flashing. The tall, sexy man wearing the cologne that smells like you’re getting banged in the middle of the rainforest. I should be standing in front of my faithful husband, exchanging our wedding vows right now.
He peers around at the large crowd once more. “Where are you headed?” he asks. “I’ll drive you.”
I glance up at him, startled by his determination to help. Suddenly,Ifeel like the one who’s being pranked. This guy can’t be on board to help me so easily. I cracked his phone. I ruined his suit. And yet, he’s staring at me with the kind of protective gaze I’ve onlydreamedabout. Weirdly, I feel safe with him. He may be rude, but I can tell he means well. Or maybe I’m just trying to convince myself that this is the case because I’d never agree so easily to jump into a stranger’s car under other circumstances. But right now, I just want this day to be over as soon as possible. If I can get somewhere more private, maybe I’ll feel less ashamed. And maybe this stupid phone—whichwon’tstop blowing up in my boob—will quiet down.
“Fine. I’ll take you up on your offer.”
He catches onto my wrist and leads me toward his car—an icy gray Porsche Taycan—parked in a parallel spot along the sidewalk. He unlocks the doors with a key fob, then opens the passenger’s side door for me.
I slide into the seat, ready to pull my train into the car, but he’s already picking it up from the sidewalk. He hands it over to me, and I set it in my lap awkwardly. I now fully regret requesting a long train—a long train is only a statement piece when you actually attend your wedding. Today it’s only proven to be a burden.
He shuts my door and crosses around the car toward the driver’s seat. As I’m waiting in the car alone, it becomes abundantly obvious how much the car smells just like him. I’m practicallybathingin his divine scent.
I throw my back against the seat. I’m a horrible person. Who gets turned on by the scent of a stranger’s cologne? Sure, it might be a ridiculously sexy scent, but I’mengaged. Wait,amI still engaged?
With zero regards to my fresh manicure, I bite my thumbnail absentmindedly as I weigh whether I’m still technically engaged after running out on my own wedding. All signs point to no, but I suppose every circumstance is different.
He cheated on you. The answer is no.
The reality of the situation is finally dawning on me.
“Where to?” my handsome new driver asks. He shuts the door and begins putting on his seatbelt.
I shrug and buckle myself in. “Anywhere but my wedding venue.”
He huffs. “I’ll just start driving then,” he says, shifting the car into drive. “You can tell me once you decide. My name’s Carter, by the way.”
“Mia,” I say, observing Carter as he swiftly pulls onto the street.
“Mia,” he repeats, staring straight at the road ahead.
Chapter 4
Carter
I’mmakingabigmistake.
I must be out of my fucking mind. What am I doing driving a strange woman in a wedding dress around the city? Honestly, I’ve just been making random turns every few blocks. We could be driving in circles, for all I know. My eyes may be on the road, but all I can focus on is the gorgeous woman sitting in my passenger’s seat instead of standing at the altar.
I shake my head. This can’t be real.
“You’re certain this isn’t a prank?” I ask Mia for what feels like the hundredth time.
“No,” she says matter-of-factly. I can tell she’s tired of me asking. It’s the only conversation we’ve made in the ten minutes we’ve been in the car.
The guys love to pull pranks like this. The kind of pranks that make the headlines and keep Cogswell Productions on everyone’s radar. While it isn’t a practice I subscribe to, I get where they’re coming from.
But judging by the way Mia looks like she could break down at any moment, I’m starting to think this is the real deal.
“Gary didn’t put you up to this?” I glance at her, although I wish I hadn’t. I almost forgot how mesmerizing she is. Even with all the black from her mascara under her eyes.
She shakes her head. “Who’s Gary?”
I turn back to the road. “Fine, I believe you.”For now, at least. “So, how’d you end up running out on your wedding day?”
