His Runaway Bride (Alphalicious Billionaires Book 7)

by Lindsey Hart

  “Yeah. I mean, do you like- ski or something?”

  He blinked back at her. “Ski?”

  “Well, I don’t know. It seems like people would only choose to live here for one reason. Because they like to ski. Although, I don’t know what people do in the summer. Hike maybe? Are you into hiking?” She gave him a quick once-over that tried to convey confidence, but only resulted in her having to slam her thighs together so that the tingling burning up her legs wouldn’t make it all the way up to some more vital areas.

  “I don’t ski.” An arrogant grin settled over his beautifully rugged face.

  Noemi half expected sirens to come screaming down the block to arrest the bastard for being so smugly confident in his own attractiveness. Or maybe he was just trying to be nice, because she was the one acting like a crazy person, and he didn’t even know that he had a body made for fantasies and romance novels. She’d read about the whole stupid statue or god-like description. She’d just never encountered it in the flesh before.

  She’d also never understood silly girls who went googly eyed over a guy. She kind of got that now, like a big wet slap of reality. It was humbling to realize she wasn’t immune to his animal magnetism. She wished she could turn off her body’s reaction with a hidden switch so she could stop feeling like she was glowing and buzzing and doing all sorts of strange things.

  It’s the jetlag. It’s the shock. It’s the last few days. It’s not him. It’s not me. There is simply no equation here.

  She nearly jumped off the red vinyl bench seat when she blinked and found a hand hovering in front of her face for a handshake. The owner tilted his brow again and a wrinkle furrowed into his strong, bronzed brow.

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. Said my name is Cason.”

  Noemi shook her head and kept her hands folded on the matching red tabletop. The only thing that didn’t match the red in the place was the chrome lining the counters and stools and the black and white checkered floor. It really was the real deal, fifties style diner. Waffles and milkshakes were definitely on the table. The stranger hadn’t lied about that.

  “No, it isn’t,” she breathed.

  He blinked at her with those lush, blue eyes. Lush. If eyes could be lush, his definitely were. They were wet and fluid and she found herself wanting to drown in them like the pathetic creature who knew the water was poisonous but drank anyway.

  “What?”

  “Oh.” Noemi lifted her hand and tentatively slipped it into the guy’s grip. His hand was massive, twice the size of hers, strong, the fingertips surprisingly smooth, though she wasn’t sure why that shocked her. Maybe because she actually believed he was a real-life lumberjack. “Sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”

  Maybe because the heat of his hand curled around hers was making her stupid. It felt like someone just handed her a fork and made her jab it into an electrical socket. No, it was worse than that. More like falling into a swilling pool with a toaster plugged in. In short, it actually hurt to touch him, and she withdrew her hand as quickly as she could and tucked it between her legs. The very same legs that felt like the toaster was jammed between them when she hit the pool…

  “If you don’t like my name, you can call me however you choose to.” Cason picked up the menu and began to browse, but she had the feeling he was watching her even while he wasn’t looking at her.

  “N-no. I mean, what would your mother think? Or your dad? I- didn’t mean to- insult their choice. It’s just an uncommon name. I pictured you’d be more of a Shane or a Will or something.”

  “Something boring?”

  “No,” she breathed.

  She picked up her menu to hide the fact that her face was probably fire engine red. Why did she have to be so entirely useless at interactions like this? Simple things. Innocent things.

  She wasn’t always impossible but walking in on your boyfriend of three years screwing his secretary on his desk in the most clichéd douchebag move in history, did it. Plus, if he was going to cheat on her and completely humiliate her, break her heart and shatter the future she thought she was going to have, why couldn’t he do it in some creative fashion?

  “Am I just bugging you?” Cason lowered his menu at the same time she did.

  He peered at her over the edge of it, so seriously, that she almost giggled. Yes, giggled. Thankfully, she managed to stifle it.

  “I- er- uh- sorry. It’s just been a rough couple of days.”

  That menu lowered a couple inches further and his gorgeous blue gaze locked with hers. “Want to talk about it?”

  I would if I could get words out past the massive lump lodged in my throat. Or if I wasn’t ten seconds away from having to be scraped off the floor as a giant melted puddle of human mush.

  “No.” She shook her head so hard that tendrils of hair flew up and stuck to her cheek. She didn’t miss the way Cason’s eyes darkened, like he wanted to brush them back for her. She beat him to it, quickly sweeping them back behind her ear. “I mean, it’s stupid. You probably wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

  His menu hit the table with a dull plunk. “Try me.”

  Noemi scanned the front of the diner for any servers, but they were still MIA. She swallowed hard. What was the harm in telling one person her predicament? Maybe it would make her feel better. She could leave out whatever details she wanted, and it wasn’t like she was ever going to see the guy again. Why not totally humiliate herself a little further?

  “Well- I- a year ago- I was seeing this guy. For a long time. Three years. I thought he was going to ask me to marry him. We were looking at houses together. It turned out, he probably just wanted to be with me for the money. My dad owns this company.” She rolled her eyes like it wasn’t a big deal. “None of the money is mine, but he was probably hoping… anyway, I caught him cheating on me with his secretary.”

  Cason actually rolled those marvelous eyes, and god, they looked incredible doing it. “How original.”

  “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

  “The guy sounds like a first-rate anus. Did he happen to have one in the middle of his forehead? Any scars from where he tried to get it removed? Did he grow his hair out so long so you would never actually noticed that giant butthole in the middle of his face?”

  This time, she couldn’t smother the surprised giggle that burst forth. It felt strange to laugh, like she hadn’t done it in a long time, at least not genuinely. Strange in a good way.

  “Now that you mention it…”

  He grinned back at her and she had to wonder how many women had found themselves falling under his spell because of it. By spell she meant the spontaneous desire to strip naked and rub themselves along every hard plane and muscle beneath that plaid and denim exterior.

  Was wanting to lick a complete stranger totally wrong, or was her moral compass just way the hell off?

  “Anyway, that can’t be it. I mean, you said it happened a year ago. Did the assface try and come back into your life? Crawling back with some sob story about how his two-inch dick made him do it?”

  “No.” She had to stifle another giggle. She’d never actually laughed about Rob’s infidelity before. She was shocked that she even could. She took a deep breath and even though she had no idea what she was doing, she just went for it. “It’s worse. So much worse. So my dad-”

  “Your rich dad?”

  “Yes. I- I guess, my rich dad- he was so in love with my mom. She died a couple of years ago.”

  “I’m sorry.” It wasn’t just the perfunctory words. Cason’s eyes glowed with emotion and she could tell he actually meant it.

  She nodded, acknowledging the gift of his empathy. “Yeah- well- I don’t know if he’s not really in the right headspace. He’s been different since she died. Or if he’s trying to do me a favor or if he feels sorry for me because of the whole Rob thing and wants to spare me further heartache. I just have to imagine that he had the best intentions in mind when he arranged it.”

  Cason le
aned forward a little, brow scrunched up in a way that only made him that much more attractive, even though it would have looked silly on anyone else. “Arranged what?”

  Noemi leaned back. She’d started this and now she had to finish it, even though she wished she could just shut up and be saved by an absentee server. It was like Cason’s heady, spicy scent drifting across the table and flooding her nose every single time she breathed in was like some truth telling serum she couldn’t escape.

  “He- this is going to sound so crazy, but he must know this guy from work. Some other rich guy who just wants to get richer. My dad sells shoes. I mean, he designs shoes. It’s complicated.” She coughed nervously. “The point is, this other guy is in the shoe business, I guess you could say, and he and my dad cooked up this stupid idea that if we got married it would be good for someone? I don’t know. I have no idea why or what really happened. All I know is that this guy, the shoe guy, wants to marry me because he just wants my dad’s connections over in Europe. I’m just guessing. But it’s the only reason why he’d agreed to marriage to a complete stranger.”

  Cason’s mouth dropped open and her eyes were involuntarily drawn there. God, on top of the perfect everything else he had, he also had really nice lips. Not too full and definitely not thin. He was probably a good kisser. My moral compass is so screwed right now, it’s probably pointing due fricking south.

  “What? That’s…”

  “The craziest thing you ever heard? Me too. My dad just sprung this on me, and I refused to listen past the whole loveless marry a stranger sight unseen kind of a deal to actually pay attention to any of the details. I locked myself in my room and refused to come out until he was asleep and then I packed a bag and just- left. I flew across the country and ended up in Denver and drove out- out here, because it was the last place I thought he’d look for me- and also- it seemed kind of nice.”

  Cason’s smile created actual bubbles in her blood. She felt like a fizzy glass of soda with all those bubbles popping and fizzing right up into her brain. And into a few other select places that she was not going to think about.

  Oddly enough, she’d never felt like that with Rob.

  He’d made her feel okay, but- it was never like heart stopping, pulse pounding passion. He was good looking. Tall. Athletic. Blonde. He worked in finance. He had his shit together. He was decent in bed, not that it was at the top of her list back then. She’d thought he was the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

  Maybe he did have a butt hole in his forehead because that shit all got sucked down the pooper real fast.

  “It is nice here. You asked me why here. That’s why. I don’t ski. Never did. Never will. You got me on the hikes, though. I do like to be out there. It’s just nice. Beautiful. Quiet. Gives me the space I need to think, away from the city but it’s close enough that I can always go back when I need something, if I can’t get it here.”

  Noemi sighed. She found herself slouching in the bench a little, towards Cason, and she corrected her posture real fast. “Yeah. If I had to end up anywhere, I’m almost glad it was here.”

  “So, you’re alone. You just ran from home. You have no family here. No one at all. No job, no place to stay?”

  She nodded slowly and blew out a breath. “Thanks for the reminder.”

  “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to make things worse. I was going to say, if you need a friend, I’m here. I know it’s weird and that’s probably what all creepers and serial killers say when luring in their prey, but I promise you, I’m not either of those.”

  “Says all creepers and serial killers.”

  Cason laughed. The sound was magical. It flowed through her ears and entered her bloodstream like some crazy awesome sort of drug that wasn’t approved for any kind of market use and never would be because it was too potent and too dangerous and promised to get the user immediately, stupidly, amazingly high.

  “I have a house- if you’re looking for a place to stay. Or maybe if you want those waffles I promised, because it looks like we’re seriously not going to get any service here today.”

  “I thought you said this place was good.”

  Cason shrugged. “Maybe I just wanted to have lunch with a beautiful woman.”

  “I’m not-”

  “Don’t even go there.” He grinned. “I know it’s hard to accept a compliment, but you are beautiful. That’s how I know your ex-boyfriend must have been an actual giant gaping anus. Like it consumed him and turned him into this walking, talking butthole, because no one should ever cheat period, but on you? That guy was fucking nuts.”

  “Thanks for the sentiment.” She ducked her eyes, embarrassed and flushed again.

  “It’s one you need to hear. I think you need to hear that you’re going to be okay, too. One day. Everything is going to work out. Was the guy you were supposed to marry really that bad?”

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I don’t know anything about him. Like I said, I didn’t even look him up. I’m not going to either, because I’m never going to marry him. I’m sure he’s terrible. Most rich people are. Soulless. And he’s a stranger.”

  “If you met him, he wouldn’t be.”

  “Never going to happen.”

  “Alright then. Since that’s settled and you seem to be entirely available, why don’t you give me your number and I’ll text you my address? I’ll have those waffles on the table, ready and steaming at seven sharp.”

  “Waffles for dinner?”

  “What other dinner is there?”

  She was debating the wisdom of giving her new number to a guy she didn’t even know. A stranger who was entirely too charming, handsome, and disarming for his own good. Or for hers. He really could be a creeper or a deviant and she’d never know the difference. On the other hand, he could just be a nice guy who was lonely living in a small resort town and wanted the opportunity to get to know a woman he, surprisingly enough, found attractive.

  Maybe he was the one sincere, good looking guy on the planet. Maybe he didn’t even know he was good looking. Maybe he had a similar story of heartbreak and pain that left him guarded and he was branching out for the first time in ages, taking a chance. Or maybe he was going to chop her to bits and cement her into his basement.

  “Alright.” She rambled out the series of digits that were still new to her and watched as Cason took them in, unblinking. “Don’t make me regret it.”

  Just as she was reaching for her purse, getting ready to slide out of the booth, a shrill scream from the back yelled out something about fire, and another anxious voice answered something about throwing water on it.

  Cason’s brows shot up. “I think that’s our cue to get the hell out. I guess that’s why we didn’t get any service. And also, why this place is probably going to be burned to the ground in a few minutes. Ten to one that’s a grease fire and you should never throw water on it.”

  Noemi slipped from the booth and looped her bag around her shoulder. “You don’t need to tell me twice. Seven? You’ll text me the address?”

  Cason unfolded his massive, six and a half foot frame out of the booth. She was just guessing on his height, but he was impressive. Broad. Tall. A Viking from a few of those romance novels she’d so guiltily devoured a few years back when her sex life with Rob was flagging. She imagined this guy pillaging and marauding, and yeah, that shouldn’t be hot, especially when she thought about him pillaging and guarding her, but it was.

  “Aren’t you coming?”

  He nodded. “I will. Going to go back to that kitchen first and avert disaster. Maybe they’ll give me a meal on the house, and you’ll let me take you out again.”

  That disarming grin worked. She felt it in her toes, and all the way up to her lady bits.

  “Good luck with that.”

  “See you at seven.”

  “Try not to get burned to crisp.”

  He flashed her a thumbs up and disappeared behind the counter. Noemi fled out the door, half telling h
erself she was running from whatever fire was going on in there, but she knew the truth. It wasn’t the diner’s flames she was trying to escape. It was a whole different set of flames entirely and she was pretty sure that water or towels or even a whole fire department, wouldn’t be able to put them out.

  CHAPTER 5

  Byron

  He was so officially fucked.

  It was great that he’d managed to snare his potential wife into the world’s biggest lie, charm her easily enough, gain her trust because she was vulnerable and really did need a friend, and technically get a second date out of her. It wasn’t so great that he was going to have to figure out a way out of the lies he was already drowning in, and he had to figure out how the hell he was going to secure a house by seven. The big cherry on that shitshake was that he had no fucking clue how to make waffles.

  It was a good thing he was rich.

  He fixed the most pressing problem by pulling out his asshole card, because Noemi was right- most rich people were complete douches- and found a small house being offered for private rent. It had a great view of the mountains in the distance and was set back not far from the bustling, quaint, touristy shops and a great big Victorian style bed and breakfast.

  The house was modest, only a two bedroom, but it could be a fucking zero bedroom for all he cared. As long as it wasn’t a death trap, he was willing to take it. The surprised landlord, who’d had the place for rent for three months because it was overpriced, let him move in since he was willing to pay double the asking price for the first month just for the privilege.

  The guy wasn’t going to turn up an extra two thousand dollars for those seven days. He turned the keys over, no argument.

  That left Bryon three hours to get the shit he needed to make something that passed for food and figure out how the hell to put it together.

  Thank fuck the house was already furnished. At least it looked like someone lived there. It was decorated by the landlord’s wife. The guy just happened to be a thirty year old resort style punk kid who never grew up and lived to ski and had the token scrub beard and man bun, but his wife had good taste. She’d picked out tasteful, modern furniture and paired it with antiques here and there and neutral art that appealed to a wider variety, in hopes of justifying the overpriced rent they were charging for the tiny place.