by Lauren Layne
Jordan reached out and wrapped her fingers around his forearm, needing to touch him—to reassure.
His hand closed over hers and lifted it, pressing her palm to his chest, directly over his heart, in an unexpected telling gesture that made her eyes water.
“I didn’t realize…” He cleared his throat, tried again. “I didn’t realize just how isolated I felt until a certain City Girl waltzed into town and tried to turn my life into a circus.”
She winced and looked away, but he squeezed her hand. “I’ve never been so damn grateful.”
Jordan looked back at him, saw that his hazel eyes were pleading. “Those things I said to you—Jesus, Jordan. I’ve never been so damn terrified that I’ve screwed it up. Beyond repair.”
She gave a wobbling smile and stepped closer. “Not beyond repair.”
Relief flashed over his face as he tentatively reached his free arm around her waist, pulling her in. “No?”
Jordan swallowed. “You weren’t the only one who’d been isolated without realizing it.”
“That why you’re here?” he asked. “Facing demons?”
She nodded, her tears running freely now.
“Ah, City.” He drew her even closer. “You’re doing the right thing, but you don’t have to do it alone. I’m here.”
She turned and glanced over her shoulder. “I miss them. And I thought by not letting myself get close to anyone else, I’d be honoring them. Or protecting myself? I’m not sure exactly what I’ve been doing, but I do know I’ve been wrong.”
She took a deep breath. “The last thing my family would have wanted was for me to be floating through life, not letting myself care about anyone or anything too much. Even with Simon, with my friends in New York—I love them, but they’re safe.”
Luke gently pulled her chin around and tilted her face to his. “What am I?”
She let out a nervous laugh. “Well, you’re not safe.”
“How do you figure?”
“You’re a firefighter who ditches brides on their wedding day,” she joked.
“Okay, about the first,” he said, wrapping both arms around her again. “I’m the most careful firefighter you’ll ever meet.”
Jordan lifted her arms to his shoulders. “And the second? That whole runaway-groom bit?”
“My questions first. You quit your job. Got another lined up?”
“Not yet. Going to live on savings for a while, just until I can figure things out.”
“In New York?”
She hesitated a moment, and he nudged her closer. “Because if yes, I’ve heard good things about the NYFD.”
Jordan’s lips parted. “You’d consider…moving to New York?”
“I’d consider giving you and me a chance. If that means New York…” He shrugged. “Winston and Luna will adapt.”
Jordan pressed her lips to his chin. “What if I told you I’d be up for giving small-town life another shot?”
He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again, she could have sworn they were watery.
“I love you, City.”
Jordan let out a laughing sound of happiness. “I love you too. Although we might have to rethink the nickname.”
“Ask me the other one again,” he said. “The other question.”
Jordan frowned in confusion. “About your habit of ditching brides on their wedding day?”
“Used to. I used to do that.”
Jordan wiggled closer, the chill from the rain making her shiver. Or maybe that was the anticipation. “What about in the future?”
His smile was equal parts tender and mischievous. “Try me.”
Epilogue
EIGHT MONTHS LATER
“Where is he?” Jordan said, pacing back and forth in the tiny back room of Tucker’s Tavern, which had been commandeered for the bridal party. “Has anyone seen him?”
“Calm down, you’ll get sweaty,” Stacey said, lifting Jordan’s arm and unabashedly applying a swipe of deodorant. “I’ve already done this once.”
“And it’s only going to be once if you keep applying other people’s deodorant like a weirdo,” Isobel said, kissing Stacey.
Even in her own stress-ball state, Jordan felt a little thrill at the other women’s public display of affection. They’d officially come out as a couple a few months back.
Stacey’s family, as expected, hadn’t taken it well. But her mom and sisters were coming around. Jordan hoped that her dad just needed a bit more time.
In the meantime, it was a pleasure to see how happy they were.
Not nearly as happy as she was, though. Not today.
Her wedding day.
“Oh my God, did you see this?” Tawny said, pushing Stacey aside and shoving a cellphone in Jordan’s face. “This is what you could have been part of.”
Jordan peered at the cellphone, then rolled her eyes at Luke’s sister. “I can’t believe you’re following that crap.”
Although not as crappy as it could have been. To pretty much nobody’s surprise, Eva hadn’t worked out, either as a contestant or as a spin-off. Too diva, according to Simon.
“Stalking,” Hailey chimed in, correcting Jordan. “We’ve all been stalking. Gage Barrett is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Jordan accepted the lip gloss that Stacey held out and applied it, her eyes going to the clock. She didn’t care about Gage Barrett. The star of Jilted’s debut season was sexy as crap, but she maintained that Luke Elliott would have been the far more desirable star.
That is, if she’d been willing to share him.
Which Jordan absolutely would not be. Not ever.
Now, if she could only get him down the aisle…
She shook out her tingling hands. “Okay, I’m thinking I’m just going to go take a little peek. Make sure he’s still here.”
“Oh, would you stop,” Hailey said, holding up a can and dousing Jordan’s head in a cloud of hairspray. “He’ll be there. The man adores you.”
“Yes, but you of all people…”
Hailey sighed. “Stace? A little help?”
Stacey tugged at the strapless, champagne-colored bridesmaid dress, then pointed a warning finger at Jordan. “Luke Elliott loves you. More than he loved Hailey, or me, or Eva. You’re his forever, Jordan Carpenter, and if you continue this crap, all of your bridesmaids will storm right out of here.”
“Which will be like half the town,” Isobel said, popping the cork off a bottle of champagne.
She wasn’t entirely wrong. Simon had happily agreed to be man of honor, whose main task was following Luke around like a hawk. The rest of Jordan’s bridal party was Lucky Hollow’s finest.
She’d be getting married with Stacey, Isobel, Hailey, Tawny, and Bree by her side.
And it would be crowded.
She and Luke had decided to get married at Tucker’s. The shabby bar looked anything but, courtesy of Luke’s mom’s and Vicky’s considerable combined skills. Jordan had caught only a glimpse before being ushered back here, but there were candles and white roses everywhere, and, more important, the entire place was pulsing with happiness.
After their reunion in Keaton, Jordan and Luke had flown straight back to Lucky Hollow and relieved Bree and Ryan of dog- and cat-sitting duty, much to the dismay of their daughter.
Since then, the eight months had flown by. Jordan had started an online life-coach company for twenty-somethings looking to find themselves, and though it was still early stages, she’d been shocked to realize she could make money from it…even more shocked to learn how much she enjoyed it.
She and Raven still kept in touch, although she tuned out whenever her old boss talked about the runaway success of Jilted.
There was only one runaway groom Jordan cared about, but so help her God, if he ran out on this one…
“Ready?” Bree said, spritzing Jordan’s cleavage with a bit of perfume, then patting the area dry unabashedly.
“If it means you guys will stop feel
ing me up and shellacking me with hairspray.”
“Welcome to small-town life, babe,” Hailey said, smacking Jordan’s ass. “Also, hot damn on the shoes. Have I told you that in the past five minutes?”
Jordan glanced down. It had been a neck-and-neck decision between the aqua cowboy boots and the delicate Jimmy Choos with the blue bow around the ankle, but she’d eventually opted for the latter as a nod to her and Luke’s early days, when she’d been the city girl in stilettos, he the guy in the backward cap and boots.
Although he’d better not be wearing either of those today.
The door opened and Vicky crowded in with her clipboard. She gave Jordan a once-over. “Did someone spray her with hairspray?”
“I’ve got it!” Luke’s mother rushed in, aerosol can in hand. Before Jordan could duck, Jane had given her loose waves an unneeded blast of hairspray.
“There,” Jane said warmly, cupping Jordan’s cheek. “Now it’ll stay put.”
Jordan’s eyes watered at the motherly affection Luke’s mom had shown her since the very first phone call, and she threw her arm around the other woman’s neck.
“There, there,” his mom sniffled. “You’d better watch it or I’ll be moving back to Lucky Hollow and trying to get Luke to build a mother-in-law suite for me and my man.”
“You can stay with me, Ma,” Tawny said, tugging her mother away from Jordan. “The two of them need newlywed time. Also, have I mentioned how skinny you look in that dress?”
Jane slid a hand over the beaded bodice of her gown. “Remember that when I ask you to help me get out of these Spanx.”
“And yuck,” Tawny said. “So can we please do this wedding thing so we can get to the cake?”
Jordan’s stomach fluttered. “Is he out there?”
“My son adores you. We all do,” Jane said, wrapping an arm around her waist. “He’ll be there.”
Before Jordan could reply, her bevy of bridesmaids was ushering her forward, patting at the white knee-length sheath dress to make sure it didn’t ride up, before positioning her at the back entrance of the main room.
“You ready to be sisters?” Tawny whispered, squeezing Jordan’s hand before stepping behind her to get in line.
Jordan didn’t have a chance to answer, because the crowd parted as the music swelled with a Faith Hill ballad….
And there he was.
Jordan exhaled when she saw her husband-to-be, saw him do the same, his face relaxing when he spotted her, as though he’d been looking for her too, worried that she’d chicken out.
Fat chance.
Jordan was vaguely aware of the people of Lucky Hollow standing to the sides, half of them crying, the other half grinning, but her smile was all for Luke.
And his for her.
Simon stepped forward and extended his arm to walk her down the aisle. Hailey poked her in the back with her bouquet, in a silent Go get him, girl!
Jordan took a step forward, then another.
Not just toward the man she loved.
But toward the rest of her life.
For Sue Grimshaw and Gina Wachtel, for not batting an eye when this story idea came to me at three A.M. and I begged them to upend my entire publishing schedule so that I could tell it ASAP
Acknowledgments
Hello, lovely readers!
Thanks so much for taking the time out of your busy lives to read Ready to Run! I hope you had as much fun reading the start of my I Do, I Don’t series as I did writing it! As some of you probably noticed in the epilogue, I gave you a little teaser of what lies ahead in Book Two: You’ll get to see the show Jilted in action, complete with a Hollywood heartthrob who finds himself the star of the show after losing a bet, and the reluctant contestant who participates in the show only to save her struggling business and is definitely not prepared for Gage Barrett. Keep reading to get an exclusive excerpt of Runaway Groom!
This series has been so much fun to write, probably because this story idea has captivated my imagination from the very beginning. It happened like this: My editor and I had been toying around with the idea of a series about runaway grooms/runaway brides, but we didn’t have quite the right hook to make it fresh.
Then one night, as I was lying awake at three A.M., my imagination bouncing with potential story ideas as is often the case with us authors, it hit me:
Runaway Groom meets The Bachelor—a reality TV show about men who aren’t just single but dedicated playboys, to the extent that they’d rather leave a woman at the altar than tie the knot.
I don’t know where the idea came from exactly. Some ideas are just like that, wonderful and mysterious. I stared at the ceiling, thinking it through. The idea became so big that I had to go fetch my iPhone so that I could capture everything. Then the idea got even bigger, and I did something I almost never do:
Went to my laptop and tried to capture the ideas as quickly as they were coming.
Shortly after, I emailed the entire mess of babbling to my editor, along with a Please?
By the end of the next day, I had approval. And that’s that! I got started on Ready to Run almost immediately and never looked back.
So with that story in mind, I really have to kick off my thank-yous with that very editor, Sue Grimshaw, and my publisher, Gina Wachtel, who saw my enthusiasm for this project and supported me from the very beginning.
A thank-you also to my agent, whom I blindsided after all this (not the way things are supposed to go) by saying, “By the way, I’m writing this!” Props to her for making all the detail stuff work in a flurry, even after I went rogue on her!
Thanks to the rest of the Loveswept team, who as always came to the table with amazing ideas and strategy: Erika Seyfried, Madeleine Kenney, Matt Schwartz. And to the production team and the cover-design team, as well as everyone else who shines up my books in ways I don’t even know!
A special shout-out for this entire series to Annie Selak, my resident Bachelor expert.
To Kristi Yanta, for the usual editorial genius she provides in helping me turn my hot mess of a story idea into something lovely, as well as her nonstop patience when I message her at all hours of the day with, How bout this?
To my friends and family, especially my husband for never ever complaining when I start whispering my hero’s name aloud.
And last, but never least, to the readers who make this entire career possible.
Much love from the writer cave,
LL
BY LAUREN LAYNE
Love Unexpectedly Series
Blurred Lines
Good Girl
Love Story
Walk of Shame
I Do, I Don’t Series
Ready to Run
Runaway Groom (coming soon)
Oxford Series
Irresistibly Yours
I Wish You Were Mine
Someone Like You
I Knew You Were Trouble
Sex Love & Stiletto Series
After the Kiss
Love the One You’re With
Just One Night
The Trouble with Love
Redemption Series
Isn’t She Lovely
Broken
Crushed
PHOTO: © ANTHONY LEDONNE
LAUREN LAYNE is the New York Times bestselling author of over a dozen novels. A former e-commerce and Web marketing manager from Seattle, Lauren relocated in 2011 to New York City, where she left the corporate world to pursue a full-time writing career. Her hobbies include maintaining a designer-purse addiction and observing cocktail hour. Lauren lives with her high school sweetheart in midtown Manhattan, where she writes romantic comedies with just enough sexy-times to make your mother blush.
laurenlayne.com
laurenlayne.com/the-ll-monthly
Facebook.com/LaurenLayneAuthor
Twitter: @_LaurenLayne
Instagram: @_laurenlayne
Read on for an excerpt from
Runaway Groom
&nb
sp; I Do, I Don’t
by Lauren Layne
Available from Loveswept
Prologue—Las Vegas
Gage
You know what twenty-nine-year-old bachelors don’t get a lot of photos of?
Babies.
I mean, I get a lot of shots of the baby makers. I’m not trying to be gross, I’m just saying…groupies like to text.
But I’m not one of those former high school quarterbacks whose glory days are long over, hunkered down in the suburbs outside my hometown, waiting to break out cheap cigars because there’s another baby on the cul-de-sac.
I didn’t play football in high school; I got my proverbial letterman’s jacket in sex and cigarettes, if you will.
And though I’ve long given up the cigarettes, on the few occasions I indulge in a cigar, it’s an expensive Cuban, and it’s because I feel like it, not because of the arrival of another squalling infant.
Damn. And now I want a cigar.
Instead, I pick up my bourbon and take a healthy swig. And try to block out the damn baby.
I feel a quick bite in the vicinity of my jugular, telling me that the woman currently in my lap is either part vampire or annoyed at me for ignoring her.
I drag my eyes away from the cards in my hand and ease her away from me. “Melissa, sweetie. Any chance you could fetch me another whiskey?”
Blue eyes turn icy as she slowly unwinds from around me and stands in her five-inch red heels. “It’s Marisa.”
Ah shit. I’m no gentleman, but usually I at least get their names right.
Then again, it’s not like I’ve known her for more than half an hour. Hell, I’m not even entirely sure how she, or any of the girls milling about, got here.
In fact, the whole reason we’re hanging out in my suite at the Encore instead of in the casino downstairs is to avoid groupies like this one.
My agent, Dan, is giving me the Look, so instead of telling the woman to go bite the neck of someone who actually wants it, I reach out and grab her hand, planting a kiss on the back. “Apologies, babe.”