Accidental Runaway Groom (Clover Lake #2)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Sharp

The main stipulations that I’d given my brothers and friends when I’d gotten engaged was that my bachelor party could not go off the rails.

There would be no heavy drinking, no strippers, no obscene, ridiculous, out-of-hand event.

I didn’t want to be ashamed of what I did the next morning.

Making sure that Jo still enjoyed being with me and wasn’t ashamed of my actions, was kind of an important part of getting married.

Her being embarrassed because I had stayed out too late the night before the wedding would not be a good way to start off our marriage.

My brothers, Ewan and Galen, as well as my sister Gwen had all agreed that being an idiot when it came to a bachelor party wasn’t in the cards.

In fact, when my elder brother Ewan had gotten married to his wife Livvy, we hadn’t had a ridiculous bachelor party, which would leave everybody with hangovers, regret, and not a little bit of nausea.

Instead, we’d gone out for a sunset ride, had a single drink with our dad, from one of the single barrels that he liked so much, and then come back to hang out with Ewan’s stepdaughter, Amelia.

Maybe that made us old, or even a little non-traditional, but it wasn’t as if we didn’t hang out all the time anyway. And heavy drinking had never really been our thing.

Even my younger brother Galen had agreed, although he had wanted to go a little more exuberant than we had with Ewan. Probably because I wasn’t a dad, and we were slightly younger.

However, agreements were made, and a small yet tasteful bachelor party had been planned.

So why did I taste vomit on my tongue, and my head felt as if somebody had driven a nail right into my temple?

And not just a tiny nail. No, one of those ragged ones that got overheated when you hit it too many times.

Or maybe even a screw. The same type of screw that got too hot and turned practically magnetic and weirdly sharp because you were drilling into a stud and decided to strip the damn thing.

Yes, one of each dug deep into my temples. That was exactly what was happening.

What the hell had happened the night before?

It was morning, right? It had to be.

I swallowed hard and realized I hadn’t actually opened my eyes yet.

Oh yes, the day was going well.

Today.

My wedding day.

Well, fuck.

With trepidation slithering over my skin, I pried open one eyelid and promptly shut it.

Dear God, who invented the sun, and why was it so bright?

I swallowed back that dryness again, jagged shards of glass tearing my throat, and forced both eyes open this time.

I was a cattle rancher, a cowboy to some, and had ridden bulls when I had been younger and far more stupid. After all, my frontal lobe hadn’t quite been developed yet.

I could handle a wee bit of sunlight.

The sun glared back at me—despite the increasing number of clouds rolling their way into the horizon—and I put one hand on my leather upholstery and forced myself into seated position. Why was I in one of the family’s old trucks?

Not my new 4x4 with the deep bucket seats that had the best heater in the world during winter and the cooling bands for a hot summer. No, this was one of the older trucks that had the bench seat, so I had been practically sprawled over it, and I had no idea how I had gotten here.

I ran my hand through my hair and winced at the crick in my neck.

Where the hell was I? And why did I have zero memory of how I’d gotten here?

I swallowed hard, trying to wet my mouth as it was oddly dry.

I blinked again and realized that since the sun shone far too brightly in my eyes, I was at least facing east, and on one of the main farm roads off the highway that led to the McBride Ranch and lands, but other than that, I was still a little groggy on everything that had happened.

I tried to find my phone and cursed. I wore my jeans from last night, that much I remembered, but I had no keys, no wallet, no phone. Panic increasing now, I opened the glove compartment, didn’t find it there, and began to search the cab of the truck. Nope. Nothing.

How the hell had I gotten here? And what the hell was happening? I opened the door, the rusted metal screeching ever so slightly to the point that it felt like it jingled those nails and screws right back into my temples.

“What happened last night?” I muttered as I gingerly stepped out of the cab, my boots pressing into the packed dirt beneath my feet.

I was somehow pulled to the side of the road, and sleeping in my truck, without any identifying markers or way of getting home and/or contacting someone. That’s when a sliver of a memory hit.

The entire mess of my unknown surroundings and headache had nothing to do with my bachelor party.

No, this had happened after.

We’d gone on the same ride we had done for Ewan, had a single glass of bourbon, courtesy of Ewan’s very rich friend, and had ended up back at our respective homes.

Each of the McBride siblings owned a piece of land that was all part of the main McBride Ranch. Even my uncles had their own space far out to the west, and it was separated between their four sons each.

Well, it had been. When we’d lost one of my cousins a few years ago, things had shifted a bit, but other than that, the family was pretty spread out, and all worked together on their own ranches.

I wasn’t currently on McBride property, but I had been the night before.

And then I had gone back to my cabin, knowing I would have a long day today—my wedding day—and had one more drink before calling it an early night.

Then I didn’t remember a damn thing.

Until now.

There were vague recollections of me falling asleep in my armchair, that bourbon tasting slightly funny, and then being carried over somebody’s broad shoulder into the truck.

That’s all I could really remember, and frankly, it almost sounded like a dream. A memory that I wanted to fit into the holes that were feeling like Swiss cheese at this point.

My brothers wouldn’t do this. They wouldn’t drug me and kidnap me the day before my wedding. Well, they didn’t really like Jo, or understand why we were getting married, but they wouldn’t hurt me. Right?

Dear God. I was going to be late to my own wedding. Because Jo had wanted an early morning wedding, so we could spend the rest of the afternoon celebrating before heading off to our honeymoon in Aruba on an evening flight.

I was going to miss my own wedding. Jo would be the jilted bride, and I would be the runaway groom.

I was in so much trouble.

Hands on hips, I glared into the distance, trying to figure out how long it would take to walk to the main house. I couldn’t walk to the church from here, as that was even farther, but now that I had my bearings, I could make it happen.

By tomorrow.

“Shit.”

The sound of an engine cut through my worry, and I turned to see a shiny SUV making its way up the farm road, not quite speeding, but it didn’t look familiar.

It wasn’t like we owned this road, but now that I knew where I was, and that I was closer to the ranch than I had originally thought.

And that meant whoever was driving had to be part of the farm. Right? Or maybe they were my kidnapper.

Alarm shot through me for an instant, until I told myself I was an idiot.

Clouds began to roll in as I waved my arms, trying to get this person’s attention. Hopefully they would take a stranger, if they didn’t know me, because I was about to need to hitchhike to my own wedding.

I looked up and glared at the now darkening clouds.

Rain was supposed to be good luck on a wedding day from what I could vaguely remember. The groom not showing up however, that didn’t sound like good luck.

With a curse, I lifted my arms again, ignoring the increasing wind that seemed to come with those clouds.

This could not be happening. And yet, it was.

I’d get to the bottom of it, and hope whoever thought this practical joke was funny would get their comeuppance later, but for now, I needed to get to my family.

To Jo.

I waved down the car again just as the first drops of rain fell. “Lovely,” I growled.

As the next drop came, and then the deluge of rain decided to follow, I pushed my dark hair back from my face and hoped that my square jaw, broad shoulders, and glaring blue eyes wouldn’t scare off whoever the hell was finally coming closer.

The SUV’s lights turned on as the rain began to pour in earnest, and finally the driver pulled over to the side.

Thank God for friendly people who didn’t mind hitchhikers.

“Please don’t be a serial killer,” I muttered.

The formerly packed ground beneath my feet began to turn to mud as I stomped my way through in my work boots, and made my way to the passenger side of the SUV.

When the window opened, I swallowed hard, not recognizing the woman in front of me but still a little confused. Because while I had never seen her before, she had to be one of the most beautiful women I had ever laid eyes on.

She had white-blond hair with hot pink strips, bright blue eyes, and luscious lips.

Not that I should be paying attention to her lips.

This was a stranger. And I was supposed to be getting married soon.

The only person’s lips I should be thinking about were Jo’s.

The one who I liked. No, loved. Right? Well, we were friendly.

And we enjoyed each other’s company. Those were some of the reasons that we were getting married, and it didn’t have to be the head over heels love at first sight that Ewan and Livvy had.

Why I sounded so confrontational in my own head, I didn’t know.

“Hey there,” I said after a moment, hoping I didn’t sound serial killer-like.

“Hi.” The hesitancy in her voice struck me, but she smiled, and I swallowed hard. Then I nearly tilted my head back to wet my mouth with the rain that continued to pour down on me. I must look ridiculous, but I didn’t care. Well, I did. I just needed to get to my damn wedding.