Page 16 of Runaway Bride's Guide to Love

“Drink up, Cap!”

I do, because that’s how the game’s played. “Cap? Is that the nickname now?”

“Yup! Tiger and Cap. For Captain America, obviously,” she says as she takes another sip of her beer in front of a devilish smile. “You came in and saved the day, just like my favorite super hero. Though I’m not sure if you have America’s Ass. Maybe Tennessee’s Ass. I haven’t checked it out yet. Stand up. Let me get a look at ya.”

I suddenly feel my cheeks turn red. Am I blushing? I don’t blush. Why am I blushing?

“I like Cap,” I say, ignoring the ass comment. “Better than Prince Charming.”

Tiger’s face goes from playful to terrified in a heartbeat. “Wait? Who calls you Prince Charming? Oh my God! A wife? A girlfriend! Oh my God! I’m a runaway brideanda home wrecker!”

“No, no,” I hurriedly say as she dramatically drops her headto the table. “No wife. No girlfriend. Just a little sister who has annoyed me with a Prince Charming nickname since we were kids.”

She peeks out from underneath the veil. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Good. That’s good.” Tiger sits up and takes a reassuring breath. “Not the nickname. I mean it’s cute. I like it and it’s fitting, but not if you hate it. But it’s good that I’m not forcing another woman’s man to hang out with her on the most pathetic day of her life. That wouldn’t make me much better than…”

Tiger’s words trail off, but I know where she was going. This has happened a few times tonight. Seemingly innocent conversation that couldn’t be farther from what was supposed to happen turns suddenly into topics too close for comfort.

More specifically, about her ex. Who I hate. I don’t know him. I don’t even know his name. But I know if he walked into the bar now I wouldn’t wait for her permission to lay him the fuck out.

How could she want to marry that guy? I mean, I know it couldn’t all be bad. Right? But this woman…this beautiful, drunk, semi-dramatic, slightly crazy spitfire of a woman had to have better options than a man who apparently is a thief and a cheater. Right?

Then again, who am I to question decisions about marriage? I was raised by a woman who thought marriages and relationships were things you collected.

“Here you go,” the waitress says, putting down two shots in front of us. “Anything else?”

I look to her, then over to Tiger. “When did you order these?”

She shrugs and puts on a fake innocent face. It’s really bad.

And really adorable.

“No clue,” she says. “I bet the Booze Fairy brought it for us.”

This makes the waitress laugh. “You two enjoy.”

I give her a side eye. “Last one.”

She salutes me with the wrong hand. “Yes, sir.”

“I mean it.”

The devilish smile reappears. “What’s the matter, Cap? Can’t hang?”

“I can hang.”

Her eyes glimmer with mischief. “Prove it.”

Now, I’m a gentleman. I’m here to make sure she’s safe. That she doesn’t get so drunk that she ends up in a dangerous situation.

But what I don’t do is turn down a dare. Or a challenge. Or anything that can be construed as one. It’s why I’m always everyone’s first pick for teams. It’s why I was always Simon’s beer pong partner in college. I don’t back away from a challenge.

And I never lose.

So what will one more shot hurt?

---