Chapter 3
EMILY
“Anna, you would not believe this park,” I say into the phone, pausing mid-step on the path.
A pretzel cart idles near the park’s entrance. Somewhere behind me a child shrieks with laughter.
My eyes fall on a row of horse and carriage rigs idling along the curb. Their coachmen lean against spoked wheels or tip their top hats at passersby.
One of the coachmen catches my eye. He’s young, broad-shouldered, and wears a grin that knows exactly what it’s doing.
“Anna, would it be a total geek move to take a horse and carriage ride?”
As I speak, I watch a laughing couple climb into one of the carriages and settle under a tartan blanket.
“After all, it is my wedding day.”
“Total geek move?! Yes. Especially since brides don’t take carriage rides alone. Carriage rides cost a fortune. And they are dangerous! Didn’t you see that article last week when a tourist was killed in one?”
“No. But instead of taking a ride, I’ll take pictures and send them to you.”
“Okay, but be careful taking pictures too.”
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Ever since we were toddlers, Anna was like the conservative Dr. Jekyll to my wild Mr. Hyde.
I drift toward one of the horses.
His coachman stands a few feet away, deep in conversation with a couple who look like they’re trying to get a discount.
The horse is enormous up close, his coat shiny and dark. He wears a giant red feather plume like a Las Vegas showgirl.
Pulling out my phone, I start snapping photos, circling around to get the horse, the carriage, and the groom all in the shot.
The horse neighs as I move in for a tighter shot.
“Don’t get too close, Em,” she warns again after hearing the horse’s whinny from my phone. “Horses can be unpredictable.”
“Stop being a worry wart.”
I line up the perfect shot. Then a giant chocolate-colored German Shepherd jumps in front of me and races under the horse’s muzzle.
The horse goes wild.
I hear a sound like a crack of thunder.
The horse rises on his rear legs in front of me, all heavy chest and flailing legs. His once-elegant red feather plume whips sideways.
“Get back,” shouts the coachman.
The couple he’d been talking to scrambles for shelter.
I look up, absolutely frozen.
The horse looms like a wall of black above me, its hooves cutting the air in wide, desperate arcs.
I feel the displaced air on my face, hear the coachman still shouting.
And I even hear Anna’s tiny voice still speaking through the phone in my hand.
My legs refuse to move. Even though every rational part of me screams to run.
Out of the corner of my eye I catch a blur of black. A suit jacket, a shoulder …
… and then the air rushes out of me as a pair of arms locks around my waist and wrenches me sideways.
For a split second we are airborne.
I hear the horse’s hooves crashing down somewhere behind me.
And I’m close enough that I feel the shudder of it through the ground as the stranger who rescued me and I land hard in the grass.
The impact knocks my phone loose.
I lie there for a moment, the sky tilting above me.
The aroma of earth and cedar, combined with fresh-cut grass fills my lungs.
My savior is a man.
I can tell by the solid weight of him. The broad shelf of his shoulders above me. And the way his hand still grips my waist.
I can’t help but admire his firm jaw. And dark hair slightly displaced from whatever heroics just occurred.
And now he’s just close enough that I can see how good-looking he really is.
For one absurd moment, I think of Mr. Darcy striding across the grounds of Pemberley.
Anna’s voice filters through the phone which landed a few feet away.
“Emily? What’s happening?”
My rescuer crouches over me, his dark eyes scanning me up and down for injuries.
“Are you okay?” He closes a hand around my forearm and draws me to my feet in one clean motion.
I’m not okay. I feel dizzy.
The world tilts around me.
But I’m not going to tell him that.
I just force a bright smile. “Yes. Fine.”
“Emily! Talk to me!” demands Anna through the phone.
With an air of amusement, the stranger picks up the phone and hands it to me. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes. Please don’t worry about me.”
I say this, assuming he’d insist on staying. Maybe even taking me for coffee.
He doesn’t.
“Well, then,” he says, his smile dazzling. “I’ll leave you to your day.”
And with that, he walks away.
As I stand watching him go, a woman who’d been selling keychains to tourists comes over to me.
“Honey, you are one lucky girl.”
“Lucky,” I say, turning to her. “Why?”
She shudders. “I’ve watched those horses come unglued before. It ain’t pretty. Lucky you’re alive. And also lucky Mr. McDreamy himself pulled you out of danger’s way.”
“McDreamy? Is that his name?” I ask, confused.
“No,” she says with a hearty laugh. “But that’s what I call him. I see him pass this way from time to time.”
Well, she can call him McDreamy. To me, he’s a modern-day Darcy.
“Emily!” Anna’s voice screams from my phone.
“Right here,” I say, speaking into it as I head down the road to the The Circle Hotel ahead.
As I walk, I tell Anna the story of the horse and my Darcy-like savior.
“Well, I’m glad you’re okay,” she says. “Send me the horse pictures. And wedding snaps too! I can’t believe you’re getting married without me. We promised to be one another’s maids of honor when we were kids.”
“We’ll do that,” I assure her. “But I’ll have a different groom. Gotta go. Let’s talk later.”