Page 7 of Love Fast

The runaway bride next to me is on her phone. She has long fingers, and she’s gripping the device like she’s holding on to a life raft. I wonder if she really is a runaway bride or if she’s an extra from a film or a model from a photo shoot. None of the potential explanations for the white dress explain why she’s sitting on the stool next to me.

I wouldn’t consider myself a nosey person. Not normally. But I’ve come back to Star Falls after fifteen years and nothing much seems to have changed. The woman next to me is the exception. I’m surprised Jim didn’t ask her to fill out a questionnaire so he could report back to the rest of the town about who she is and why she’s at Grizzly’s. This town likes to know every single detail of each other’s lives.

The bartender asks if she wants another drink. The woman pauses for a second before she asks for tap water. I want to offer to buy her a drink, but then it would get awkward, because she might think I’m making a pass at her. I wouldn’t be. Not that she’s not attractive—she is. Big blue eyes and flawless skin and dark hair that’s curled at the ends and seems to go on forever.

I’m staring.

If we were back in New York right now, I would have had a drink thrown in my face at the very least.

But we’re definitely not in New York, and I’m not sure she’s even noticed my staring. She’s too lost in her thoughts. Probably she’s thinking about the groom she jilted or the town she just rolled into. I’d pay more than a penny to know what exactly is on her mind.

When the bartender delivers the water, the bride asks, “I checked at the little inn on the corner, the one with the snowdrops in pots on the stoop? To see if they had any rooms for the night—two nights maybe—but they were completely full. They suggested I try here. Do you have rooms?”

There’s only one inn in town—snowdrops or no snowdrops.

“We don’t have rooms,” the bartender says. “Tanya probably meant for you to ask around in here.” He briefly slides his gaze to me. “We have a few Airbnbs in town but I think most things are fully booked.” She looks a little confused. And she should be. It’s not like Star Falls is hosting an annual film festival or anything, but the Colorado Club has booked out the Snowdrop Inn for senior managers who are still looking for accommodations. And I booked out Beth and Mike’s two cabins because they’re the closest accommodations to the Club. I’m only living in one of them, but I didn’t want a nosey neighbor keeping track of my comings and goings.

She turns, and her gaze hits me like a thunderbolt. She’s gorgeous. A smattering of freckles across her nose and full bee-stung lips that I’d be intent on kissing if we were in New York. But we’re not in New York. We’re in Star Falls, Colorado, and the cabin next door to mine is the only available accommodation in town.

THREE

Rosey

If I’d stayed in Oregon, I’d be halfway to my honeymoon right now. I’d be on my way to Mexico or Tahiti or maybe even Paris.

Instead, I’m freezing my ass off in a bar in god-knows-where. Okay, so I’m pretty sure I’m in Colorado—the state where I landed. Other than that, I’m cluelessandalso homeless. The bus stopped when it was already dark. From what I’ve seen of the town so far, it could be the backdrop to a cozy mystery or the home of a serial killer. Either one doesn’t seem particularly appealing. But the bus driver told me about an inn in town, and stupidly, I assumed I’d get a room, so I got off two stops before the end of the line.

I figured no one would look for me here. Beyond that, I don’t have a plan. When I got up this morning, I’d planned to be Frank’s wife by now. Now I’m sitting in a bar halfway across the US, and I’m definitelynotmarried.

My mother’s going to kill me.

I need another tequila. But no, I need to be sober in case I need to practice the self-defense moves I learned in high school. The town being home to a serial killer and all. Possibly. Maybe. I also need to be sober in case drunk-me is tempted to respond to Frank’s text, telling me I’ll come to my senses. That was after I texted him to apologize for dumping him not-quite-at-the-altar.

“Ask around?” I scan the bar. Who would I ask? Letting the world know I’m totally lost and alone doesn’t seem like the wisest plan. Not to mention, the last thing I want is for someone to ask why I’m dressed like this.

By the time I got through security at the airport, the plane was already boarding. I didn’t have time to look for a change of clothes. When I landed, I had a little more luck. After buying a bus ticket, I prioritized footwear. I picked up a pair of sneakers on sale, but then I had to run for my bus. By the time I reached Star Falls, all the stores were closed.

The bartender is barely twenty-one, but he looks at me like he’s seen plenty of brides on the hunt for a bed while on the run. His eyes are full of pity and knowing. “I know Beth and Mike have a couple of cabins just outside of town.”

My heart lifts in my chest at the real possibility of a bed to sleep in tonight.

“But I think they’re rented at the moment.” He looks at the guy sitting next to me. Is this Mike, of Beth and Mike? I turn to look at him. If it is, Beth is a very lucky woman. Mike is hot. I know I was engaged to be married up until ten thirty this morning, but I’m not dead. The guy next to me is tall and dark and swarthy. I don’t know exactly whatswarthymeans, but I know this guy is it. His hair isn’t long, but it’s not short either. It’s definitely long enough to get a fistful of when he’s buried between my thighs.

Holy crap! I snap my head back to focus on my glass of tap water. I’m staring. More than that, I’mfantasizing. It’s not something I’ve done in a while. My life has felt all too real recently. I make a silent apology to Beth and then turn my attention back to the bartender. “If Beth and Mike are lucky enough to have their cabins rented, is there anyone else in town who has a place? Or rents out a room?”

The bartender shoots another speaking glance at Mike before saying, “You could try Colbert’s Farm, but I think it’s booked.”

Mike interrupts. “I’m renting Beth and Mike’s cabins. I’m in one. You could take the other if you needed it for a couple of nights.” He’s wearing a blue plaid shirt that looks as soft as spun clouds.

So not only is the hot stranger not one half of “Beth and Mike,” he also might have the solution to my accommodation problem.

“It’s available?” I ask.

He nods. It’s not an enthusiastic response, but at this point, as long as it has a bed and a flushing toilet, I’ll take it.

“Is it far?” I ask.

“Just up the street, about half a mile out of town.” He glances at the door and then back at me.

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