Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Dash Carter in “Jilted at the Altar” Shocker!
In a stunning turn, guests at the wedding of Chicago Rebels forward, Dash Carter, the Dominion Hotel Group heir, were shocked to learn that the nuptials were cancelled—and the bride, Summer Landry, was nowhere to be found.
Dash’s best man, Saxon Carter the Third, made the announcement to the congregation of four hundred at St. Martin’s Episcopal Church in Riverbrook, just a few miles north of Chicago.
“Apparently she left without a word, not even to Dash,” Zara Jacobs, wife of Rebels center, Cody Jacobs, observed.
“No one saw it coming.” Peyton Bell, Rebels forward and one of the groomsmen, reported that the couple had always seemed very happy, though they had broken up several times in the early days of their courtship.
“But each time, they found their way back to each other. They were perfect together.” One guest, who asked to remain anonymous, commented, “No one would ever have thought Summer capable of this. She always seemed like such a nice girl.”
It looks like there’s more to the runaway bride than meets the eye. Get ready for a “summer” of Rebels drama, or as we like to call it in the Hot Goss bullpen, R-Drama. We’ll be bringing you the tea as it’s poured!
-@HotGoss
Summer
I awoke with a jolt to find we were still driving. Time had passed, though I couldn’t tell how much. The sky looked different, more muted, signifying that it was later in the afternoon. On one side of the road were pretty ranch-style houses, on the other a large body of sparkling water.
Up ahead a yellow road sign came into view, splashed with an artists’ paint palette in the upper-right corner.
Welcome to Saugatuck, Michigan
Birthplace of NHL Legend, Theo Kershaw
“Saugatuck?”
I turned to find Hatch staring straight ahead, and the movement made me realize that not only had I curled in on myself like a snail but that I was covered with a jacket.
His jacket.
When had he done that? Had we stopped already, and I slept through this small act of kindness?
More likely, he’d covered me up because my wedding dress was too stark a reminder of my crime.
He hadn’t answered, so I repeated to his stone-faced profile, “Saugatuck, Michigan?”
“The very one. The perfect summer vacation spot.”
There was no missing that sarcastic tone. Exactly what I needed, he was saying in his uniquely passive-aggressive manner. A summer vacation.
He had promised me a safe house. I had assumed he meant his condo in Riverbrook. Instead he had driven a couple of hours out of the city.
Maybe I should have asked more questions, but the moment he said he had a place to bring me, I had jumped at the idea.
For all my panic at my life being taken over by Dash and his family, at my decisions being no longer my own, in that moment I craved someone else to take control.
I’d handed it over without a care because strangely I trusted Hatch to keep me safe.
If I went back to Dash’s place, I would never feel safe again.
Away from the city, I could catch my breath, figure out next steps. Maybe even call Dash and explain my actions.
Oh, sweet Summer, you can’t possibly be that stupid, can you?
Shelby Mae, butt out!
I had hurt Dash, that was a certainty, but he had hurt me first. Three nights ago, I’d overheard him talking to his momma.
“She’s not the most polished of girls, darling. I swear she had no idea which was the salad fork.”
Dash sighed. “Mom, who cares which fork she uses for the Waldorf? It’s disgusting anyway. I hate celery and walnuts.”
My heart had cheered his defense of his bride, albeit through the language of salad, until his next words chilled me to the bone.
“You’ll hardly ever see her anyway. She’ll be too busy once I get her pregnant.”
Oddly enough, Dash made fun of my supposed baby fever.
It didn’t exist, but whenever I’d showed interest in any baby, such as Lars Nyquist’s daughter Mabel, Dash acted like I was dying to have one.
I had said I’d prefer to wait, and he’d rolled his eyes and murmured, “sure, babe.” Now I questioned his strategy—was it just a ruse to pretend disinterest, so I would let my guard down?
“I’ll get Rosa on retainer,” Mrs. Carter said. “We’ll want to make sure any offspring has the right nanny. If we can’t control half the nature, we can control one hundred percent of the nurture.”
Rosa was Dash’s nanny up until he turned fourteen, though why he needed a nanny for that long, I had no idea. These people were already planning the childcare for my unborn children.
I’d brushed it off, resolving to discuss it with Dash later.
But we never got the chance. Wedding preparation kicked into high gear, and we were too exhausted from socializing and entertaining his family to have a single moment alone.
And what would I say? I’d already capitulated to the Carter Grand Plan when I gave up my job.
I pulled myself back to the present where Hatch was driving us through the postcard-pretty town of Saugatuck, filled with galleries, fudge shops, ice-cream parlors, and high-end boutiques.
I half-expected him to wave to Leslie Knope heading into the Pawnee diner for a waffle brunch or salute Lorelai grabbing a coffee in Stars Hollow.
But then I realized he wouldn’t want anyone to know about the shameful package he was smuggling in.
I caught my hollow-eyed look in the mirror—I was still wearing my veil.
I grasped it, tearing it away from my head with such vehemence it stung my scalp.
Hatch remained silent throughout my Tony-worthy performance.
Five minutes after driving through the town, we turned into a graveled driveway and stopped outside a large Craftsman-style house, painted alabaster white and slate blue.
“Is this your place?”
“My family’s. Well, Aurora, my great-grandmother, but she signed it over to me and my siblings. We own it jointly.”
“And I can stay the night here?”
He frowned. “It sounded like you needed to get away from everything. No one will know you’re here unless you want them to.”
What a relief. I handed his jacket back to him. “Trying to cover up the evidence?”
“You were shivering. I didn’t even have the AC on.”
I tended to get cold easily. Dash hated that I was forced to bundle up, even in summer. He wanted to see my skin because it was an expectation of being a hockey player’s girlfriend, I supposed.
“Thank you.”
“Sure.” He stepped out of the car with his jacket. He didn’t put it back on, and I got a glimpse of his strong back muscles straining against the crisp white shirt. The one he wore because he was part of my fiancé’s wedding party.
What had I done?
Shelby Mae, for once, was silent.
I slipped on my shoes and exited the car.
Hatch was already at the front door, opening it with a key he found under a stone frog.
Such a cliché, but then everything about the Kershaw family was cozily cliché, from their perfect family dynamics to their media-friendly story.
They weren’t as wealthy as Dash’s family, but they were rich in vibes.
Hatch looked over his shoulder to see me hesitating on the threshold, a vampire, waiting to be invited inside. That’s what I had been doing my entire life, and each new situation hurtled me back to that worldview. I had to reset, recalibrate, reinvent myself at every turn.
Here I was again, starting over. No job, no fiancé, no clue about what came next. Just trashy little Shelby Mae looking for a toehold on the rock face.
Hatch stared, his gaze dipping over my body. Probably wondering why he’d made this damn fool decision.
“You coming in?”
I nodded. “Lead the way.”
The inside was as blessed in appearance as the outside. A large, but not too large, great room with cozy furniture in a combination of navies and creams. An inviting stone fireplace, the mantel covered in family photos. This was a well-loved and lived in home, and I was instantly charmed.
Tiredness hit me like a Zamboni crashing into the plexi. I wanted to sit in one of the gingham-checked armchairs or lie flat on the velvet-tufted sectional, but I was still in my wedding dress, still wearing my clown make-up, still trussed up like a bridal turkey.
“You want to freshen up?”
Every time I thought of an obstacle, Hatch anticipated my need. It was one of his great strengths on the ice, how he knew what the opposition was about to do. It was almost eerie how often a player would move one way and find Hatch already bearing down, ready to steal the puck off his blade.
Now he was doing it again. Good thing I had nothing worth stealing, not even my pride.
“If you don’t mind.”
“There’s a bathroom on this floor but maybe you want to shower and change in the bigger one upstairs?”
At my nod, he led the way. I followed, feeling weary, but not so much I didn’t notice how good his ass looked in those tuxedo suit pants. The guys always rocked Euro supermodel in their game day suits but my eyes had never strayed to any ass other than my future husband’s.
One jilted groom later, and you’re already lookin’? I guess blood will out.
Oh, she’s back!
“This is Aurora’s room and en suite.” He gestured to what looked like a master bedroom. “There should be towels and everything you need in there.”
“Thank you. You didn’t have to do this.”
He looked like he wanted to say something but bit back the words.
I took a breath. “I know I’ve been asking nothing but favors from you, but I have one more.”
Still silent.
I turned my back and peeked over my shoulder. “I need help undoing my bustier. It has a ton of little hooks I can’t reach.”
He didn’t move. Just stood there like a statue or a particularly gloomy gargoyle. For a second, I worried he hadn’t heard me, but just as I was about to repeat my request, he moved forward.
His fingers brushed my skin above the zipper.
I shivered.
He didn’t apologize for cold hands, probably because they weren’t cold.
We both knew why I shivered as that electricity zinged through me.
The scrape of the dress’s zipper sounded foreign.
Forbidden. This would have been my husband’s privilege, yet here I was asking a stranger to undress me on what should have been my wedding night.
With the back of my bustier revealed, I insisted that this was a necessary evil. How else could I get undressed?
His breath felt hot against my neck.
“You just need to—”
“I know what to do.” His voice sounded strained. God, he really did not like me.
There had to be about twenty hooks, and each one took an eternity. But with each successive unfastening, I felt a corresponding shift in my chest. Liberation. Freedom from the past five years.
With the last hook undone, I pressed the loose undergarment to my chest and turned to thank him. His expression was pained, the awfulness of this experience plain to see.
“I’m-I’m sorry I had to ask you to do that.”
His troubled gaze clouded over, immediately replaced with familiar contempt.
“Anything else?” He may as well have tacked on, “your highness.”
“No, that’s it. Thank you.”
He left the room, closing the door behind him and leaving me disheveled and doubt ridden.
As each piece of the wedding get-up dropped to the floor, I tried to see it as a positive.
A fresh start. But a dress in a puddle didn’t look fresh.
It looked soiled. Finally, I removed my engagement ring, an oval cut diamond in a nested jeweled setting.
I’d always thought it ostentatious, but Dash said he wanted everyone to know I belonged to him.
In the bathroom, I stripped quickly from my underwear. I unpinned my hair, stepped into the shower, and scrubbed until my skin turned raw and the water ran cold.
Drying myself, I studied my reflection in the mirror.
I had lost so much weight this past six months, initially because I wanted to look good on my wedding day.
But I realized now that a lot of it was worry about the commitment I was about to make.
Wrapping my skin-and-bone frame in a fluffy towel, I opened the door to the bedroom.
My wedding dress still lay in a heap but now there were spare clothes on the bed.
Hatch Kershaw anticipating my needs once again.