Seducing the Runaway Bride (The Wrights Book 1)

by McKenna Rogue

  “Hi, Mom. No, I’m not boarding right now. I’m actually on my way to the store. One of my properties isn’t stocked.”

  “I haven’t heard from you in a while. How is everything with the real estate venture?”

  “It’s great.”

  “Charles, I’m not your father’s spy. You can talk to me.”

  I chuckled. “Yeah. Yeah. This one property is giving me a run for my money. And I’ve got this poor woman who is just trying to enjoy her honeymoon and the hot tub, and it just all exploded right in my face, literally…and hers, metaphorically.”

  “Oh dear.”

  “But I’ll get it figured out.”

  “I know that you and your father have been struggling through this whole ordeal of you exercising your independence, but I don’t want you to stop coming around. I know I should be thrilled the nest is almost empty, with the triplets graduating from high school in a couple of years, but frankly, I don’t like it.”

  “Mom, you always have at least one kid in the house at all times. I’m sure you’ll never really be an empty nester. But I’m not staying away because of Dad. I’ve been fixing stuff and going through the numbers with Luke. I’ve just been busy. I swear, I’ll come and visit soon. How’re things at the house?”

  “Busy as always. I’m trying to plan for Gio’s birthday, and the triplets are getting on your father’s last nerve, but what’s new there, right? Alicia is coming to visit in March. She wants to go skiing before the season is over. I just wanted to check up on you. I know you’re all grown up, but I’m never going to stop worrying about my kids.”

  “I know, Mom. And I wouldn’t ask you to. But don’t you think that worry is better placed with someone like Isabis and Liling, who are always traveling the world to these exotic locations? Or Rick?”

  “Oh please, Charles, I worry about all of you. But if I don’t call and guilt you every now and again, how will you know I care?”

  “Thirteen’s a big number to worry about, Mom. You sure you can cover us all?”

  “Are you doubting me, Charles Richard Wright?” Her tone was light, but I couldn’t help but wonder if the tension between Dad and I was bothering her more than she let on. “Now, tell me that once you get the supplies for your property, you’ll go home and stay in the rest of the night? The snow’s supposed to get pretty bad.”

  “Mom, I grew up here, I know how to handle myself in the snow. But I promise. I’ll drop off supplies, take a pass at the snow build-up, and be on my way home.” I left off the part about dinner. If I told Mom I was cooking for a gorgeous tourist staying in the chalet, she’d have more questions than I cared to answer.

  “Okay. Just be careful.”

  “You got it.”

  She said her goodbyes and we hung up just as I pulled into the grocery store parking lot.

  As I walked through the store pushing a cart, I sent Luke a text, asking him to double-check the other property we had rented for supplies and snow removal, and then let him know that we needed to order a new jacuzzi for the chalet once Aubrey vacated.

  Just before I checked out with a good load of groceries, Luke responded. Taking good care of the girl, or the chalet? Remember, she’s paying us for living arrangements while she’s here, not to sleep with the owner. Keep it in your pants, Wright.

  I chuckled as I tucked my phone away and paid for the food.

  On my way back to the chalet, I took a chance and picked up a bottle of my favorite red wine.

  My instinct when I pulled up to the chalet was to just let myself in, but I didn’t think Aubrey would like that, so instead, I knocked and waited. The snowflakes grew fatter and heavier while I was in the store, and I knew we were in for some great powder that would make skiing even better the next couple of days. I just had to get through tonight with Aubrey, and then I could go home, crash for a few hours, and be back out on my board before the sun got too high in the sky.

  “Wow, you weren’t joking about supplies.” She took one of the smaller bags from me. “But please tell me”—her voice was light and teasing—“what emergency constitutes a bottle of wine?”

  “You never know. Always be prepared.” I grinned and shot her a wink. I started putting things away in the cabinets and fridge. “You hungry, or do I have time to do some shoveling before I get dinner started?”

  “I’m okay right now. I really can help. I’m not some fragile, delicate woman who’s never seen snow.”

  “I have no doubt that’s true. But it’s our job to take care of this kind of stuff.” I handed her the wine. “Maybe you can get this breathing, if you really need to do something?”

  She looked at the label. “What made you choose this one?”

  “It’s one of my favorites. Why? Do you know it?”

  “Yeah. It’s my wine of choice at home.” She set the bottle on the counter and looked up at me. “What did you get for dinner?”

  “You’ll see. You said you’d eat anything.” I pulled my parka back on. “Hey, do you have your Subaru keys handy? I’ll pull it into the garage, so the snow doesn’t pile up any more on it. And so you don’t ruin your skis.”

  She headed into the master bedroom and came back out a moment later, holding the rental’s keys. “Don’t break it like you did the hot tub.”

  I laughed. “I’ll try not to.”

  10

  Aubrey

  I settled back in front of the fire, fighting the urge to go through the kitchen and see just what Chuck brought for dinner. The dancing flames were hypnotic, and I felt myself getting lost in them when I heard a crash outside, and then a string of expletives that would make even the saltiest sailor blush.

  I grabbed my coat and shoved my feet into my boots. I stepped out onto the stoop. I didn’t see him anywhere at first. “Chuck? Are you okay?”

  He grunted, and that’s when I caught sight of his boot on the other side of my rental car. I hurried down the front walk to find Chuck laying across the end of the driveway.

  “Are you okay?”

  Chuck pushed himself into a seated position. “Slipped on some ice. Be careful.”

  I glanced down, watching my footing. “I’m solid. Can you stand? Did you hurt anything?”

  He took in a deep breath. “Knocked the wind out of me. And bruised my pride a little. But I should be okay.” He glanced around.

  “Take your time.” I held my hands out, offering him help.

  Chuck pushed off the ground, only to buckle back down to the ground. “Shit. I think I twisted my ankle.”

  “Then I guess it’s a good thing I’m here. Come on, let me help you back inside. Unless you’d rather crawl or lay out here until you freeze to death in the snow.” I left my hands in reach but didn’t grab him. Too often, I’d tried to push the men in my life into accepting my help. If he didn’t want my help, I’d just have to accept it.

  Chuck sighed and took my hand. “Just get me to the couch. I’ll probably be fine, but I should rest it for a while. I guess you’re stuck with me a little longer.”

  “There are worse things. Come on.” I helped him to his feet and wrapped my arm around his waist. Even though it felt like there were endless amounts of fabric between us, his warmth sunk into me. I liked the feeling of being pressed up against him. “Let’s go slow. Don’t take me down with you if you fall again. You’ve put me on my ass enough today.”

  He laughed. “I’ll try not to.” He tightened his grip on my hip, his fingers pressing into me. I didn’t know why, but his touch felt more natural than Greg holding me ever did. And it lit me up more than Greg’s ever did too.

  We made it slowly up the walk to the front door again and I got Chuck to the couch. He was a heavy guy, not surprising with all the muscle he carried around. “Can you get your boots off, or should I help?”

  “I think I can manage. But if you wouldn’t mind, could you get me a bag of ice?” He leaned over and untied the laces to his left shoe.

  “Of course.” I ran over to the kitch
en and pulled open some of the cabinets, looking for baggies. I couldn’t find one, so I just grabbed one of the grocery bags and emptied an ice tray into it. “How’s it coming over there?”

  He groaned. “Apparently, the damn thing is already swelling.”

  I frowned and pulled one of the dish towels from the bar on the oven. “Should I get you to the hospital?”

  “No. I’ll ice it and then I’ll get out of your hair. I’m already imposing on your vacation.”

  I sighed and sat down on the edge of the couch, pulling his right foot into my lap. “Chuck, I know you’re probably Mr. Independent-do-it-all-yourself, but you’re not imposing. Honestly, it’s been kind of nice having you here. I didn’t realize how lonely a vacation alone would be.”

  Chuck gave me a smile that could warm up the coldest night as he said, “I have to admit, it’s been pretty nice hanging out with you too. I wish it hadn’t taken a broken hot tub and a twisted ankle to get there, but I’ll take what I can get.”

  I worked his boot off slowly, and then set the ice on the swollen ankle. “I guess I’m going to have to cook dinner for you now, huh? Was this your evil plan? Buy all the fixings, and then get hurt so the woman has to do the cooking?”

  Chuck laughed. “You caught me. I’m always offering to cook for gorgeous women and then purposely getting hurt, so that they feel like they have to take care of me.” He leaned back against the arm of the sofa. “We can order in. You shouldn’t feel obligated to cook for me.”

  “No one takes care of you at all, do they? I’m happy to cook, Chuck. You might have to direct me to a few things around the kitchen though. I should see if I can find you some ibuprofen or something too.”

  “Does my mother count?” He smiled. “I’m the middle child of thirteen. You learn quick in a family that size to take care of your own stuff, as much as you can.”

  “Thirteen? Tell me there’s some multiples in that.”

  “A set of twins, and a set of triplets. But only six of us are biologically related. Mom and Dad adopted seven, including the twins.” At my raised eyebrow, he grinned. “Mom was a teen movie icon in the eighties, and then when she met Dad on her first grown-up film, they fell in love. Had a couple kids, adopted a few more, and kept at it until about sixteen years ago when they decided the triplets were enough. Although, I’m not convinced that Mom wouldn’t bring on a few more if the right kids fell into her lap. She’s probably just counting down to when all of us start having grandkids for her.”

  There was no way he was one of those Wrights. “Wait, are you saying your parents are Dick and Donna Wright? My mom loves their movies. She always thought they had incredible chemistry.”

  “They’re the happiest married couple I’ve ever seen.” Chuck smiled. “I’d love to find someone I can love that deeply. But alas, I just found this chalet that likes to break on me as often as she can.”

  This line of conversation made my stomach flip-flop in knots. It wasn’t just the fact that I had no one to look up to for an example of a happy marriage; it was the way Chuck was looking at me, like he thought I might just fit the bill. I had to be misinterpreting the look in his eyes—we just met, there was no way he could possibly think of me as anything romantic. “I should get dinner started. What did you bring to cook?”

  Chuck tilted his head slightly, like he wanted to say something about my abrupt change of topic, but then he replied, “Fresh lobster ravioli with the ingredients to make a white wine cream sauce, steak, and asparagus.”

  “Wow. Ambitious.” I smiled and stood. “Think you can talk me through the cream sauce?”

  “Absolutely.” He shifted on the couch and tucked a couple throw pillows under his ankle. “I figured a woman like you, coming to Aspen, you were more accustomed to the more high-end options.”

  I could feel my cheeks growing red. “Do I really seem so…uptight? I planned this trip to Aspen because it’s what Greg would’ve wanted. I’m perfectly happy with a hot dog from the corner stand, or a greasy burger. I’ve been eating practically everything fried since…well, since my vacation started.”

  “Greg? He’s Mr. Simmons?”

  “Mr. Jackass is probably a more fitting name.” I sighed and pulled ingredients out of the fridge. “He cheated on me the night before our wedding. So, I stood him up and went on our honeymoon alone.”

  Chuck let out a low whistle. “Damn. Can’t imagine what he was thinking. Sounds like you’re better off. And just think, if he were here, we wouldn’t be having dinner together.”

  I turned back toward the cabinets, looking for pots and pans as I pondered what he said. Every sweet thing he said made my stomach flutter. I should be here wallowing that my so-called best friend and fiancé betrayed me. Instead, I was picturing the not-handyman in his see-through wet shirt and wondering what it would feel like to have his body on top of mine. “I’m sure the hot tub still would’ve broken, even if I were here with someone else.”

  Chuck groaned. “Don’t remind me. This chalet was supposed to be the premiere property for CWLB, but it’s just been one headache after another.”

  “This place? But it’s so beautiful. I saw the pictures online and I just had to stay here. It’s reminiscent of the Swiss Alps. And the décor is amazing. Who did your interior design?” I started up a cast iron skillet for the steaks.

  “That would be me. We’ve only got three houses so far. I don’t have the budget to hire someone to take care of the design. Luke weighs in, but mostly, it’s me. And possibly I get a little input from a sister or two.”

  I looked up from the asparagus and stared at him. “Seriously? I wouldn’t have pegged you as…” I paused, trying to find the right words.

  “As what? Having taste? Being competent? I know my skill as a jacuzzi repairman doesn’t show my abilities, but I actually can do things.” He shifted on the couch and leaned closer. “I would’ve rocked your world with my cooking.”

  I giggled. Like a schoolgirl. Mostly because the things I was thinking about rocking my world weren’t his cooking. “I’m sure you would’ve. But now you’re just going to see how well I stack up.” I popped open the white wine for the sauce and looked over at him. “And I wasn’t going to say you’re incompetent. Most men in New York who dress like you wouldn’t have any clue what most of these pieces are, or how they tie a room together. That’s not to say you dress badly. You’re just comfortable. I actually admire that about you.”

  “You do?” Chuck looked up at me, surprised. “I would’ve taken you for the type to expect men to wear suits. Or khakis.”

  “In New York, maybe. Certainly, my clientele. But I can appreciate a good pair of jeans and a t-shirt as much as the next girl.” I gestured at myself. “Or a pair of flannel pjs.”

  “I wasn’t going to say anything, but you are awfully adorable in your pajamas.”

  His eyes met mine, and a jolt of heat spread through my torso, landing in my core. It crawled up my neck and into my cheeks.

  He cocked an eyebrow. “How’s dinner coming?”

  I looked away from him, trying to remember what the hell I was doing. “I think I’ve got a good start.”

  He gave clear, easy to follow directions, and soon the whole first floor smelled amazing. When the steaks were a perfect medium and the lobster ravioli were well coated in the heavenly cream sauce, I plated everything up and carried it over to the coffee table. “White or red?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Wine. White or red? Normally, I’d do a glass of white with the pasta, and a glass of red with the steak, but I think that’s a little formal for dining at a coffee table.” I smiled and handed him a plate.

  “I intended red with dinner. Unless you prefer white. I wasn’t sure what you liked.”

  “As long as it’s good, I’ll drink either. But I did get the red breathing.” I hurried back to the kitchen and poured the red into a couple of glasses. “Besides, you got my favorite. What kind of woman would I be if I didn’t indulge? I am,
as you keep reminding me, on vacation.”

  Chuck balanced his plate on his lap and waited for me to return.

  Just as I set them down on the coffee table so I could move the armchair closer, the lights flickered and went out.

  11

  Chuck

  Aubrey froze, framed by the dancing firelight behind her. It would’ve been all too easy to reach out and pull her into my lap and kiss her, like I’d been wanting to since she started opening up. The intimate, unintentional mood lighting just amplified everything. “Are there any candles here?”

  “Uh, yeah. Under the kitchen sink, I think. And a lighter should be in the drawer near the stove.” I silently cursed the lights going out. I hoped it was just the snowstorm, that the chalet wasn’t throwing another problem at me, one I couldn’t hope to fix with my sore ankle and the deepening snow. But more than that, I cursed Aubrey’s practicality. More light meant less intimacy, more distance.

  “Where’s the breaker box? Do you think I should go check it?” Aubrey found the candles and the lighter and carried them all back to the quickly filling up coffee table.

  “It’s outside, around the back of the house.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out my cell phone. Sure enough, there was already a text from my mother, letting me know power was out all over town, and she hoped I was safe. “But it looks like this is a whole town issue, so the breaker won’t do any good. No point in getting soaked out in the snow for a lost cause.”

  Aubrey tugged the armchair closer to the side of the couch and sat. “Well, then we might as well enjoy dinner.”

  I picked up my fork and shifted so I could look at her more easily. “Earlier, you mentioned clients. What do you do?”

  “Oh, I’m an architect. I design high-end homes mostly.” She took a bite of ravioli and groaned. “Okay, I don’t know if this is exactly what you intended the sauce to taste like, but that’s amazing.”

  I mimicked her motions, and then smirked. “I think you nailed it. Might even be better than mine.” After a sip of wine, I asked, “An architect, huh? What made you choose that career?”