Page 91 of Runaway Bride's Guide to Love

But just as I walk into the laundry room and flip on the light, a knocking at the door stops me in my tracks.

Shit…who could it be? My blood goes cold as I run through the list of possibilities. Delivery driver? They don’t knock. They just leave the package and go. Is it Duncan? I mean, it could be, but why would he be knocking? If he was going to come in, he would just let himself in. Was Simon not able to stay away? No, Ainsley said that Lainey’s sick. A neighbor? I didn’t even talk to my neighbors when I lived here.

The knocking continues when I see a broom within my reach. Yes. This will do. I quickly grab it, liking my odds better if I have this as a weapon for when I confront whoever is on the other side of the door.

Broom in hand, I walk down the hallway through the living room. There isn’t a peephole for me to look through to see who my attacker is. So I just wield the broom over my head with one hand and open the door with the other, ready to attack whoever is on the other side.

“Danger!” I yell as the door comes open for me to see…“Emmett?”

His confusion is immediately interrupted by a laugh that I hate how much I've missed.

“First a shoe, now a broom? You’re moving up with your choice of weapons, Tiger.”

I lower the broom and let out a breath. “What are you doing here?”

He takes a step inside, even though I didn't ask him to come in. “Helping you.”

“Helping me? I don’t need any help. Wait. Did Simon send you?”

Emmett looks around the condo, which used to have a hint of feminine exposure in the decor. Now it just looks like a wanna-be rich boy’s frat house, complete with a neon bar light and a flag saying that Saturday is for the boys.

“Yes, he did. But you should’ve asked me to come. I would’ve helped.”

Is he serious right now? Is he forgetting that he’s been MIA for a week? “When was I going to do that, Emmett? After you told me to walk away so you didn’t fuck me on my desk? When you were being short with me at your house? Oh, wait. I know. I was supposed to text in the middle of you giving me the silent treatment now that I have your phone number. My apologies. How rude of me.”

The sarcasm is oozing from me, and my confidence is soaring. Between taking back my belongings and standing up to Emmett’s treatment, I’m feeling like the old Stella. The Stella that’s a little crazy and a lot vocal.

I missed her. I’m glad she’s back.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and in his defense, it does sound sincere. “You’re right. I’ve been an ass. And I want to apologize for that. I need to. But how about right now I start with going to get some of the boxes you have packed and moving them to my truck?”

“I don’t need your help.”

That’s a lie.

“Really?”

“Yes, really. I have everything handled.”

I don’t have everything handled.

“Stella…how many shoes do you have packed?”

I narrow my eyes. I hate how well he knows me.

“That’s what I thought.” He gives me a coy smile as he starts walking past me toward the hallway.

“No! Stop!” I yell, needing to put my foot down. I’m standing in a house where I’ve been pushed around for long enough. I’m not going to let another man tell me what he’s going to do and I just have to go along with it. Even if he’s trying to help me. A girl’s gotta take a stand. “You just can’t say I’m sorry and then come in here and run things. I didn’t ask for your help. I didn’t ask for anyone’s. You’re the one who stopped talking to me. You werenotnice to me. Rude, actually. And now you’re going to walk in here and just say you’re sorry and carry boxes for me? Emmett Collins, it’s going to take a lot?—”

My words are swallowed by Emmett’s mouth suddenly on mine. I clench my fists and bring them between our chests, wanting to protest.

Except I can’t. His lips feel too good on mine.

And I feel every strong, independent, woman bone being melted from my body.

How does he do this? How in one kiss, in one touch, does me make me forget everything, including my name and birthday? How with every swipe of his tongue and nibble of my lip do I become putty in his hands?

He slowly pulls away, leaving me panting as his strong hands grip my biceps just hard enough that I can feel them. “I’m sorry, Stella. I’m so fucking sorry. I’ve been horrible. A jackass. The worst kind of man, and a man I hated. And I’ll tell you every single reason why in my fucked-up head I thought it was the best play. I have so much I want to tell you.Needto tell you. But can we do it later and not in the place where I know you did things with a man whose neck I want to strangle?”

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