And now, I’m running as fast as my heels will carry me out of this godforsaken chapel, through the hotel, and out onto the Strip, where I heave in gulps of fresh air that really aren’t so fresh since it’s July in Vegas and the traffic is heavy and reeks of exhaust.
I start to run.
To where? I have no clue. I’m in an unfamiliar town, and I have no idea where I’m going, but I do know I need to get the hell away from here.
Maybe Jordan said it as a joke. He was kind of a jokester that way, but I don’t think he’d joke about something as big asI don’t. Regardless, I ran out before he could explain, so maybe I’ll never know.
Tears stream down my face, and I know the producers will want to talk to me. They’ll want my reaction. I can’t give it. Not now. I need a chance to compose myself before they force me into some corner and make me talk about how the guy I said yes to said no to me.
I cry harder, and I run harder.
I glance behind me, and I spot two of the producers just running out the front doors of the hotel as they look around for me.
When I spot them, I turn a corner. I have no idea if they saw me or not.
And when I turn that corner, I run straight into a wall.
It takes me a minute to realize it’s not a wall at all, but it’s a man built like one. He has a broad, expansive chest, and he must be well over six feet tall—six-foot-four, maybe? He towers over me at my mere five-five height, lifted a bit by the heels I’m running in.
“Oh, gosh. I’m so sorry,” I mumble, and when I back up, the man takes me by the biceps to help steady me.
And when I look up at him as he towers over me, I gasp again.
I recognize him.
And my God, he’s hotter than the last time I saw him.
Pull it together, Riggs.
“Dex?” I say, and he looks at me in confusion as if he has no idea who I am. I’m panting from running, and I’m trying to catch my breath, but he’s currently taking it away even more.
“Are you okay?” he asks as he looks me over. I must look like a disaster. I was beautified by a huge staff, but now I’m just a runaway bride with tears tracking makeup down her face as her chin-length hair has already started losing the beauty the stylists created for the wedding.
“Dex Bradley?” I say instead of answering.
“Yes. I’m Dex Bradley. Do you need some help?”
He still doesn’t recognize me, and I suck in a deep breath as I try to get the crying under control.
“Dex, it’s me. Ainsley Riggs. Your little sister’s best friend.”
“Ains?” he says, stepping back and really looking at me. “Jesus. I didn’t recognize you like that. What the fuck are you doing?”
“Running away from the altar,” I say a little sheepishly. I suck in a deep breath to try to stop panting and regain some composure. “Long story, but I need to get out of here. Can you help me?”
“Of course,” he says, and he taps something on his phone and starts walking back in the opposite direction he was traveling when I ran into him. He doesn’t say anything to me, and I’m not sure if I’m supposed to follow behind him or not.
I do, and we’re just standing around for a minute when I sniffle and say, “I’m sorry to have interrupted whatever you were doing.”
“I was running,” he says. He’s not panting like I was.
“So was I,” I say wryly.
More silence spans between us, and a couple minutes later, a car pulls up to the curb on the side street we’re on.
“Get in,” he says, and he gets in beside me.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
