Ethan
Gage: Are you nearly here?
Me: Almost.
Hayden: Almost to you means something very different to us. How far away are you exactly?
Me: Traffic is ridiculous today.
Gage: Jesus, Ethan, how far?
Bradford: You have the rings, right?
Me: Yes, I have the rings.
I start tapping out a text to my brothers with my ETA but am distracted midway when a blonde woman runs into the hectic Manhattan traffic I’m sitting in, causing a near accident. Taxis and cars swerve to miss her and George, my driver, slams on the brakes. He lets out a string of curse words while I wonder what’s made her put herself in harm’s way.
The sound of horns blaring and people yelling doesn’t seem to deter her. She continues running through the traffic as I watch in interest. I wish I had my camera here so I could capture the escape she appears to be making. Or perhaps it’s not an escape but rather she’s late. For her wedding, that is, because she’s wearing a wedding dress of all things.
She disappears across the street and when I lose sight of her, I go back to my phone.
Me: I’m less than ten minutes away. Maybe fifteen.
Gage: Fuck me. I should have just gotten the rings myself.
Me: This was unavoidable. My flight was late and I don’t know what’s going on in Manhattan today but something has the traffic jammed up.
Bradford: See you soon.
The car starts moving but then jerks to a halt almost immediately. I glance up to find the bride again, this time darting back through the traffic in the direction she came from. She’s got the train of her dress hiked up so she can hold it high enough to not trip on it. When she’s halfway across the street, she abruptly stops and jerks her head to look in all directions, panic etched across her delicate features. Like a gazelle trapped in the concrete jungle.
A text comes in as I’m contemplating what the hell is going on in her life to cause this kind of behavior.
Gage: Don’t be late. Callan’s counting on you being here on time.
Fuck.
I haven’t seen my family in fifteen months and the last thing I want is to be late to my brother’s wedding. I eye the blonde who has managed to singlehandedly cause traffic chaos on a busy Saturday in the middle of Manhattan. She appears to be frozen and unsure of what to do and all I can think is if she doesn’t get herself together soon, my best man duties are at risk. And if that happens, my strained relationship with Callan will also be at risk. Not to mention the fact I promised his fiancée, Olivia, one of my oldest friends, that nothing will stop me from being by my brother’s side while he marries her.
As George rants about the holdup, I exit the car and stride toward the blonde. Her eyes meet mine as I draw nearer, and up close, I see just how alarmed she is. Big, blue, almond-shaped eyes with long lashes that aren’t that fake shit I hate stare back at me, and if I’m not mistaken, they’re screaming for help.
“Have you got a death wish today?” I ask, horns loudly blaring all around us. “Because these drivers aren’t far from anarchy if you keep them waiting.”
She’s a living statue adorned in white lace. Barely breathing. “No.” Her answer whispers out of her on a rush of anxiety.
If there’s one thing I understand the fuck out of, it’s anxiety. This causes me to momentarily forget the fact I’m in a hurry and that she’s the one stalling my journey. I soften my voice and ask, “Do you need help?”
Her eyes flare a fraction and she nods. The fact there’s no hesitation in that nod propels me into action.
I gently but firmly take hold of her arm, and usher her to the car. There’s no uncertainty in her steps, which reassures me that she really does want my help.
I help settle her in the car, noting the frantic edge to her movements as she secures her seatbelt. “Are you running to your wedding or from it?” I figure we may be able to drop her somewhere on our way.
Her breath catches as she looks at me. “From it.” She shifts her gaze to the window, scanning the busy street while the car restarts the slow crawl to the church where Callan is getting married. She then quickly inspects the back seat of the car like she’s looking for something. When she spots my backpack, she asks, “Do you have a jacket?” Her question feels urgent.
“No.” I frown. “Are you cold?” She shouldn’t be. It’s a warm eighty degrees today.
She ignores my question, her fingers shaking as she removes her earrings. “What about a T-shirt?”
I watch as she drops her earrings into her purse before running her fingers through her long hair, quickly tousling the perfect waves like she’s trying to mess them up. “No T-shirt I’m afraid. I do have cash though if you want to go buy yourself some clothes.”
“A hat maybe?” Her voice wavers.
“I’m sure there’s a store that sells hats close by,” I offer, trying to calm her nerves.
“No, do you have one in your backpack?”
I lean in close toward her and whisper conspiratorially, “Are you trying to disguise yourself so your fiancé doesn’t find you?” I’m joking, still trying to help her shift her anxiousness, but the look in her eyes tells me I’m not wrong. “Fuck, okay.” I grab my backpack and pass her my cap. “Are you in danger? Has he hurt you? Do you need—”
“No, nothing like that.” She secures my well-worn baseball cap in place and hell if it doesn’t look good on her. “Let’s just say that being unrecognizable would make my life easier right now.”
“Right. Here then, put these on.” I retrieve my sunglasses and hand them to her.
She smiles as she takes them. It’s soft, tentative, more a delicate curve of her lips than a real smile but there’s a subtle easing of her tension in it. A hint that her frayed nerves have found a temporary respite. “Thank you,” she says with quiet sincerity.
I return her smile. “That dress really is going to be a problem though. I’m not sure why you thought it a good idea to stage an escape in such an outfit.”
She regards me for a long beat. Her shoulders relax and her eyes flicker with amusement. “Believe me, it seemed like a better plan in my head.”
“Well, you certainly made an impression on New York.”
She peers out of the car again when it comes to a stop at the lights. “Not really the kind of impression I ever hope for.” Then, her eyes widen as she spots something through the window. “Shit,” she mutters before diving face first into my lap and burying herself there like her life depends on it.
In the space between her face meeting my crotch and my brain catching up to this, I share a moment with my driver in the rearview mirror. George gives me a look. What the fuck have we walked into here? I shoot him back: Just go with me here.
I glance down at the blonde. “Do we have a problem?”
She doesn’t lift her head. Instead, her answer is muffled as she talks into my lap. “Can you see those two guys in suits across the street?”
I locate the men she’s referencing. Two brick walls of muscle surveying the crowd like they’re looking for someone. “Tell me you’re not supposed to be marrying into the mafia today.”
“That’s not a bad comparison.” She lifts her head a little to glance up at me. “What are they doing?”
I take another look. “One is on his phone. The other is searching for you, I presume.”
“Right, but what exactly is he doing?”
“Well, right now he’s reaching his hand into his trouser pocket—”
“No, is he coming this way?”
I shake my head. “They’re both still on the sidewalk.”
She exhales her relief.
“Who are they?” I ask, intrigued as fuck over what’s happening. So much so that I’m ignoring my phone that’s vibrating in my pocket with what I guess are texts from my brothers. It’s not every day a man’s sitting in traffic minding his own business when a beautiful bride crashes into his life.
“My security guys.”
“And you need security because?”
“Are they still on the sidewalk?”
“I note your skill of avoiding questions.”
“We don’t really have time for all these questions right now.”
“But we have time for you to get up close and personal with my lap?”
“Are they still on the sidewalk?”
“Yes, still there. Still on the phone and…no, now they’re walking through the traffic.”
“Shit.”
“They’re coming our way.” My eyes flick down to hers. “Are we going to have a problem if they find you with your face where it is?”
Before I see it coming, she reaches for my neck and pulls me down while shifting positions so she’s lying across the back seat with me on top of her.
She grips my neck tightly while staring up into my eyes with determination. “Cover me with your body so they can’t see my dress if they look in the car.”
“I’ll take that as a yes to my question about the kind of trouble we’re in.”
She makes eyes at me that blaze with just do as I say vibes, and since I’m a man who prefers not to argue with a woman when she’s on a mission, I do as she says.
I spread my body over hers while also doing my best to tuck her dress under me. “It’s a good thing you’re not into meringue tidal wave dresses.”
Her brows pull together. “What’s a tidal wave dress?”
“Those wedding dresses that look like a small country’s entire supply of fabric was required to make them.”
She continues to frown. “Right, but a tidal wave? Where do you get that comparison?”
“I thought we didn’t have time for questions.” When she simply waits me out for my answer, I continue, “Got it. No time for my questions. A dress reminds me of a tidal wave when it overwhelms the bride with so much material and movement that it looks like sea foam crashing into her.”
Her frown eases and she studies me thoughtfully. But only for a second because right after I give her my answer, George says, “Boss, the muscle is getting closer. They’re three cars away.”
It turns out my partner in crime likes getting intimate with new friends in more ways than one. At George’s announcement, she grasps my neck tighter, and before I have a chance to object, she pulls my mouth to hers and kisses me.
It’s not an all-in kiss. It certainly doesn’t match the boldness with which she made her move. But hell if it doesn’t silence the world and make me forget everything on my mind.
Her lips are the softest I’ve ever known, but that could be because it’s been a long time since I’ve kissed a woman and my memory fails me. I’m only just getting acquainted with them when she drags her mouth from mine and blinks up at me with an apology.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
“Don’t be.”
“No, really. I’ve barged my way into your life and now I’m making you shield me and kiss me.”
“There are worse ways to spend a day.”
“One car away now,” George says.
The look of panic in the blonde’s eyes lets me know what she needs from me. Within a second, I’ve got my mouth on hers again and this time we’re not fucking around. This time, I claim the kiss I want.
My tongue slides over hers, and I deepen the kiss while taking hold of her face. My thumb trails slowly along her jawline as every nerve ending of mine awakens. The sensations of her curves molding perfectly against mine; her floral scent intoxicating me; her lips moving in synchrony with mine; and her fingers burning heat into my skin all unleash desire through me. It’s been too long since I’ve lost myself in a woman and I could get so fucking lost in this one.
When she moans into my mouth, I’m helpless but to grind against her and growl my response.
Fuck.
It’s her wedding day and my behavior is inappropriate.
I tear my mouth from hers. “That was out of line. I’m sorry.”
She doesn’t let my neck go. “I’m the one who demanded you kiss me.”
“Right, but you didn’t demand I force myself on you like that.”
“It didn’t feel like you forced yourself on me.”
“Well, I certainly didn’t act like a gentleman.”
Her fingers loosen their hold on me. “Trust me when I tell you you’re the only gentleman I’ve had contact with in years. You have absolutely nothing to apologize for. This is all on me.”
In years?
My curiosity reaches new heights but now isn’t the time for more questions because my complete focus is on separating my body from hers. “George, where are we at?” I ask my driver.
“The threat has passed and it looks like we’re about to start moving again.” I hear the silent laughter in his voice. After working together for five years and having built a friendship in that time, we can read each other in all the small ways. He’s finding this situation highly amusing.
“They’ve gone?” the blonde asks, hope rising in her tone.
“Yes, ma’am,” George says.
I smile down at her as the car begins inching forward again. “My job here appears to be done. Are you good if we refrain from kissing again? I did give you my sunglasses, after all. I think they’ll do the job from here on out.”
Her eyes twinkle. “You’re probably right.”
I move off her and when we’ve both gathered ourselves, I nod at her purse where I can hear her phone going berserk. “You think that’s your groom?”
She shakes her head. “No. He’s busy fucking another woman right now.”
“Right.” My mouth snaps shut as a thousand emotions course through me at what she just said. “Fuck.” Infidelity isn’t something I tolerate and any mention of it always stirs my dark side.
“Yeah, that covers it.” She slides my sunglasses on and I take that as her indication she’s still in a no-answering-questions kind of mood. I don’t blame her. That would be my mood too if I were in her shoes.
“So, I’m heading to my brother’s wedding. After George drops me there, you’re welcome to have him take you anywhere.”
She bites her lip. “I don’t have anywhere to go.” I can’t see her eyes, but I can hear her tangled feelings and uncertainty.
“You don’t live in New York? Or you don’t want to go home?”
“I don’t live here. And I don’t want to go to a hotel. Or anywhere, really.”
“If I asked you questions about that, would you answer them?”
“Let’s just say that I don’t want to be found today.”
“Well, we better throw your phone out the window then.”
Her eyebrows almost hit her hairline and she immediately removes her cell from her purse, drops it to the floor, and smashes it with her heel. She then presses the button to lower her window. Before I can stop her, she dumps the phone.
“Okay, now I really am wondering if it’s the mafia we’re running from.” I was only joking about throwing the phone away. I certainly didn’t expect her to do it.
“It’s not the mafia.” She takes a deep breath. “Can I ask you a huge favor?”
“I’m not sure that’s a safe thing for me to agree to since I know you’re willing to engage in wild antics.”
She laughs and I like that I helped her do that. “Can I stay with you today? I mean, in your car while you attend your brother’s wedding.”
I process her question while also processing everything that’s happened since she ran into traffic and caught my attention. This has to go down as the strangest way I’ve ever met a person.
When I don’t answer her straight away, she says, “Sorry, just ignore that question. It’s asking way too much of you.” She appears embarrassed as she turns her gaze out the window.
I reach for her arm and gently curve my hand around her wrist. When I’ve got her eyes on me again, I say, “No, it’s not. I wasn’t taking my time answering because I thought that. I was thinking that I’ve never met anyone like you. And yes, my car is all yours for as long as you need it.”
“I appreciate this. I just need a moment to catch my breath and figure out where to go from here.” Her gratitude is woven through every word she utters.
“If you decide you want George to take you anywhere, just say the word. I don’t need the car after I get to the wedding.”
“This is very kind of you.”
“No. Kind was me letting you faceplant in my lap.” I grin for a moment. “This is just what humans should do for each other when they’re having a bad day.”
If I’m not mistaken, this means a lot to her. I get the impression she’s close to tears. But she locks her emotions down fast and says softly, “Thank you.”
We’re in the middle of this when George slams on the brakes and curses.
“What is it?” I ask, not seeing any reason for him stopping when I glance out the window.
Before he can answer, the blonde whose name I still don’t know exclaims, “There’s a puppy in the traffic! We need to help it.”
“Honey,” George says. “We don’t have time to chase a dog. My life won’t be worth living if I don’t get Ethan to this church on time.”
He’s right. Olivia will have words for both of us if I’m any later than I already am. However, I’m not sure I have it in me to leave a puppy to flirt with harm in busy traffic.
I’m still working through these thoughts when my runaway bride takes matters into her own hands and opens the car door before George starts driving again.
“Fuck,” George mutters as she makes her way into the traffic to save the dog. He looks at me in the rearview mirror. “This chick is a handful. I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.”
I chuckle. “Getting myself into? I think I’ve already gotten myself into whatever this is.” I look at her running after the puppy. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
“You hope,” he says as I leave the car.
I jog to the blonde and together we save the dog while horns blare at us for the second time today.
“For a woman who was hellbent on not being seen, you’re living dangerously now,” I say as we walk back to the car, puppy safely in her arms.
She looks up at me. “We couldn’t leave a puppy, Ethan.”
Her use of my name reminds me I don’t know hers. “What’s your name?”
“Maddie.”
“Okay, Maddie”—I open the car door for her—“let’s make a deal.” I follow her into the back seat. “If you stop running into traffic, you can have my car tomorrow too if you want.”
Remorse fills her face. “No more stopping. I promise.”
I catch George’s look of disbelief and return a look that says to cut her some slack. I may not have decided to stop for the dog before she made the decision, but I know I would have gotten to that choice too.
As we continue the drive to the church, I watch as Maddie allows the puppy to lick her face and excitedly jump all over her. I get the impression from the joy that fills her entire body that she’s a dog lover.
“Do you know what breed she is?” I ask as the dog jumps into my lap and proceeds to lick my face.
Maddie smiles as she watches the puppy show me love. “A Maltipoo.” At my blank look, because I’ve never heard of this breed, she elaborates. “A cross between a Maltese and a poodle.” She squeezes the dog. “She’s so cute.”
She’s not wrong. The tiny puppy is a handful of cream fluff with eyes and a little face that I would challenge anyone not to get sucked in by.
We spend the rest of the drive to the church alternating between talking about the dogs Maddie grew up with and laughing at how enthusiastic and excited this puppy is.
The drive takes us close to twenty minutes, which is a ridiculous amount of time for this short drive. There must be something happening in Manhattan today that’s caused more people and cars to be on the roads.
“So, I’ll call the Health Department and find out how to reunite this pup with her owners,” Maddie says when the car pulls into the church driveway.
I don’t mention the fact that she’s got a wedding mess to sort through. Every indication she’s given me strongly hints at the fact that she wants to avoid that for as long as she can. The dog will provide her with a good distraction for a little while.
I open the car door as I think of something. “You don’t have a phone. I’ll call my assistant and ask him to help you. Do you need cash?”
“Ethan, no. I don’t need cash or your assistant’s help.” She smiles. “But I appreciate the offer.”
I watch her for a moment, trying to figure out if she really doesn’t need anything. How the hell she intends on making a call without a phone is beyond me. In the end, it’s the fact I’m now almost at the point in time where Callan will disown me that forces me to let this go.
“Okay.” I get out of the car and take the suit bag that George has retrieved from the trunk. As I’m about to close the car door, the puppy begins barking. I duck my head back in to say goodbye and am greeted with the dog jumping into my arms. I fumble catching her due to the bag in my hand but manage not to drop her. She crawls up my torso and nuzzles her nose into my neck, curling up against me.
Maddie gets out of the car and joins us with a huge smile on her face. “She likes you.”
“You know who won’t like me if I don’t get my ass inside this church in the next minute?” I attempt to pry the puppy from my neck.
“Your brother.” She reaches for the dog who resists being taken from me.
I glance down at the tiny animal who seems to want to stay in my arms. “Sweetheart, I’ve got four brothers who are ready to kill me, so you’re gonna have to let me go. Today is not my day to die.”
When she doubles down in her efforts to stay with me, Maddie tries to help but the dog really doesn’t want to be shifted.
“Here’s what we’re going to do.” Maddie takes charge. “I don’t want to be the reason you die today, so we’ll all go inside. I need to use the bathroom and then I’ll take the puppy.” She removes my hat and sunglasses that she’s wearing and places them in the car, and then is three steps ahead of me before I start moving. Turning back to me, she makes wide eyes. “Hurry up, Ethan. Today is not the day for you to die.”
I grin.
What a weird fucking day this has turned into, but then, none of my family will be surprised that I’ve turned up to Callan’s wedding with a stranger and a puppy in tow. Doing anything but what they expect is the story of my life after all.
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