Pursued By the Mountain Man Enforcer (Mountain Man Bodyguard Protector #8)

1. Journee

one

Journee

“Journee, you look absolutely gorgeous.” My sister Jenna’s face gives away the truth-she was never a good poker player.

There is nothing gorgeous about the wedding dress I’m wearing. There are too many ruffles, and the gaudy sequins my fiancé insisted I needed more of are digging into my skin. And don’t even get me started on the laces cinching my waist in so tight, I can barely breathe.

I know Jenna thinks I’m crazy for agreeing to marry a man I obviously don’t love and barely know—but she doesn’t understand the deep loneliness I feel. At twenty-three, I should be out enjoying life—dating a different guy every night until I find the one.

Instead, I only want to get married and have a bunch of children. So when my parents arranged a marriage to Edward, I jumped at the chance, deciding that a husband is only a secondary character in the future I envision.

I’m not delusional enough to believe my parents actually love each other. If anything, they tolerated each other. They aren’t bad parents, per se. They just aren’t the most affectionate. I plan to be different—to love my children unconditionally.

Jenna doesn’t understand the pulsing need I have to be a mother. If I were older, I would believe it was my biological clock getting ready to run out. As children while Jenna was out playing soccer, I was in my room with my baby dolls, pretending to be a mother.

When I was younger, I didn’t know what it meant to have a soulmate. That was a word my older sister taught me. She was so set on finding her soulmate and falling in love that I just went along with her.

In reality, I never thought about a husband while playing with my dolls. In my make-believe world, it was just my babies and me—not even a nameless, faceless husband. So why should it matter who I marry as long as I have the children I’ve always dreamed of?

“Thanks, Jenna. You don’t look so bad yourself.” I force a reply, my mind fighting me on the concept of love and a complete family, including a husband who is my soulmate.

“You know, you don’t have to marry, Edward, if you don’t want to.” Jenna grabs my hands. “I can pull my car around to the back door of the Church and smuggle you across the border.”

“As tempting as that sounds,” I pause, squeezing her hands tightly.

What she’s offering is tempting. “I’m not sure I’m ready to become a Canadian citizen, even though hooking up with one of those Mounties does sound like fun.

” I feel a genuine smile cross my face as I think about why I chose Montana as the wedding destination.

It was the one thing in the whole wedding planning process I put my foot down on and wouldn’t budge on.

“You were the one who wanted to get married in Montana.” Jenna smirks. “I can’t help it that our escape route is limited.”

“Maybe I was hoping one of those sexy mountain men, you're always reading about in those romance books you like so well, would crash the wedding and sweep me off my feet to his hidden cabin in the woods.” I drop Jenna’s hands, my gaze drifting to the window and the amazing view of the mountains, but all I can think about is spending the rest of my life with Edward.

“Could I have a few minutes alone before I become Mrs. Edward Peterson?” I do my best to give her a reassuring smile, but it feels forced.

A lump forms in my stomach as I think about walking down the aisle, and I can’t help but feel I’ve made a terrible mistake. I don’t think I can go through with the wedding.

“Okay, but if you change your mind, I’ll be Louise to your Thelma, and we can head to Arizona.” Jenna gives me a quick hug, careful not to wrinkle my dress or smudge my makeup, which I would normally appreciate, but right now I’d use any excuse not to go through with this wedding.

It’s just normal wedding day jitters.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves.

“As long as you don’t drive us off the Grand Canyon,” I say, squeezing Jenna tight.

She’s always been there for me through thick and thin.

I know if I said the word, she would drive me out of here and never look back.

But this is my problem to fix, not hers.

“I love you, you know.” I take a step back, needing to put a little space between us before I break down and cry.

“I love you, too, sis.” Jenna walks out of the church bridal chamber, leaving me alone with one of the biggest decisions in my life.

I glance at the emergency backpack in the corner of the room.

When I packed it last night, I wasn’t sure why I was filling it with extra underwear, clothes, and toiletries.

I even packed a few of Jenna’s Mountain Man romance books.

It wasn’t like I needed any of it. My designer suitcase was already packed with everything I needed for my honeymoon.

A shiver runs through my body at the thought of Edward touching me on our wedding night. How can I possibly have children with a man I don’t want to touch me?

With my mind made up, I walk to the door and open it just a crack, making sure I can make a clear getaway when I hear voices in the hallway.

“Come on, Jenna. You’re missing the photoshoot with all the groomsmen and the groom. They’re in the courtyard with the photographer.” I recognize the voice as belonging to one of the bridesmaids, though I can’t even remember her name.

“But the wedding is supposed to start in a few minutes.” I hear Jenna say with a hint of anger in her voice.

“You know Edward—he operates on his own timeline, not anyone else's. Come on,” the bridesmaid says. “Edward will make it up to Journee tonight on their honeymoon.”

I risk peaking my head out the door to see the bridesmaid leading Jenna to the back of the church. This is my chance to make a run for it, since Edward is distracted by taking photos with his friends—I can make my escape.

Ripping the gown from my body, I throw the ugly dress on the floor and quickly change into yoga pants, a t-shirt, and tennis shoes I had the foresight to wear to the church, forgoing Edward’s mother’s strong request that I wear a dress and high heels.

Hair and makeup are next. I grab a washcloth from the bathroom, run warm water over it, and scrub off all the layers of makeup, thanking my lucky stars I refused to wear fake eyelashes for my big day.

Untwisting my hair from the updo that took three hours to get just right, I toss it into a ponytail, grab my phone, and send Jenna a quick text.

Me: Jenna, tell Mom and Dad I’m sorry, but I can’t go through with the wedding.

I’m not sure what I was thinking when I agreed to it.

I need some time alone to let everything blow over and figure out what to do from here.

I’ll reach out to you when I can, but for now, I’m leaving everything behind, even my phone.

Do me a favor and stall the wedding for as long as you can so I can get a head start before they start looking for me.

I turn my phone off and throw it on top of my wedding gown, which is lying in a heap on the floor. A sense of relief rushes through me, followed by a slight tinge of guilt as I think about leaving my parents without a word.

I grab my purse and dig through it for a pen and some paper.

My hand lands on a piece of paper I had forgotten about.

It’s an ad for a mail-order bride service.

At the time I picked it up from the diner Jenna and I stopped at for breakfast this morning, I thought it was a good reminder that not everyone marries for love.

With a slash of the pen, I write one word on the back of the paper and place it on the table.

Sorry.

I grab a few bottles of water from the mini fridge, stash them in my backpack, slip it over my shoulders, and head out for the adventure of a lifetime—something I can tell my kids about someday—if I have any.

The thought sours my mood. That’s the old Journee talking—the new Journee is going to live up to her name and have a journey of a lifetime. Whatever happens, happens.