Chapter 3
CHAPTER
THREE
CAROLINE
Life is weird. Very weird. Especially when you're sitting across from the most attractive man you've ever seen while still wearing a bridal gown.
The bar is warm and crowded. Country music plays softly through overhead speakers. People laugh around us. Pool balls crack together somewhere in the distance. Normally I'd hate being the center of attention.
Today? I don't care.
For the first time since overhearing my mother and Nathan, I feel... calm. Not happy exactly. My life is still a disaster. But calm. Like I can finally breathe again.
Sebastian sits across from me in a booth near the back wall. He's somehow even bigger sitting down. Broad shoulders. Strong forearms. Dark eyes. A face that looks permanently serious until he smiles. Then suddenly it's impossible to look anywhere else.
Not that I've been looking. Much. Okay, that's a lie. I've been looking constantly. The man is ridiculously handsome. It's honestly annoying.
The waitress drops off my drink. A whiskey. I take a sip. It's excellent.
"You look happier."
I glance up. Sebastian is watching me.
I shrug. "I escaped."
His mouth twitches. "Fair point."
"I think escaping is underrated."
"I'll keep that in mind if I ever get kidnapped."
I laugh. "You'd be impossible to kidnap."
He raises an eyebrow. "You seem very confident."
"You look like you fight bears recreationally."
His expression remains completely serious. "I only fight them professionally."
I nearly choke on my drink. For three glorious seconds he lets me believe him. Then he smiles. The sight hits me directly in the chest.
I point at him. "You think you look like your fight bears?”
"I've been told that."
"No you haven't."
"You're right. People are usually too intimidated."
I roll my eyes. "By what?"
He gestures toward himself. "The axes."
I burst out laughing. Several people glance over. I don't even care. Sebastian grins. Mission accomplished. The realization hits me suddenly. I've laughed more in the last thirty minutes than I have in months. Maybe years.
His gaze softens slightly. "So."
I immediately point at him. "No."
"No?"
"No wedding questions."
His eyebrows rise. "You know exactly what I was about to ask."
"I do."
"And?"
I take another drink. "And I'm establishing healthy boundaries."
"You fled your wedding and ended up in a bar wearing one shoe."
"I said healthy boundaries. I never claimed healthy choices."
His laugh is deep and warm. The sound wraps around me like a blanket. Unfortunately he's still staring at me. Persistent. Mountain-man persistent. Which feels significantly more intimidating than regular persistent.
I sigh dramatically. "Fine."
His expression turns victorious. I hate how attractive that expression is.
"You look pleased with yourself."
"I am."
"I dislike you."
"No you don't."
Unfortunately he's right. The realization is deeply inconvenient. I trace my finger around the rim of my glass. "My fiancé didn't actually want to marry me."
Sebastian's expression immediately changes. The humor remains. But something else appears too. Concern. I look away.
"My mother paid him to propose."
The words still sound insane. Every single time.
Sebastian leans back against the booth. Silent.
Waiting. Not interrupting. Just listening.
So I tell him. Not everything… but enough…
the money, the conversation, my mother’s obsession with the venue owner…
Oh, and the fact that she’s already working on husband number seven. I think? I’ve lost count.
By the end, Sebastian is staring at me.
"What?"
"I'm trying to decide if you're making this up."
I laugh. "Unfortunately no."
"Your mother paid a man fifty thousand dollars to date you."
"Correct."
"Because she wanted access to a recently separated businessman."
"Also correct."
"That sounds like a soap opera. It doesn’t even make sense.”
"Thank you."
"It wasn't a compliment."
I laugh.
“But why pay so much money just to spend time with the venue owner? There had to have been an easier way? Right?” His eyebrow raises.
“You would think. But my mother has access to a trust fund that she treats as though it will never run out… So… Ya. She’s pretty awful. And she does whatever she wants.”
Sebastian studies me for a moment. Then says, "You know, most people would probably need therapy after that."
"I'm considering arson."
His eyes widen.
I grin. "That was a joke."
"Mostly?"
"Mostly."
His laugh fills the booth again. I like it sound… too much. I'm comfortable with him. That shouldn't be possible. I don't know him. I know he's huge. I know he apparently lives in the mountains. I know he owns zero axes despite looking like he owns a warehouse full of them.
But that's about it. Yet somehow sitting here feels easy. The thought makes my chest ache unexpectedly. Because I can't remember the last time I felt safe with anyone.
My mother certainly doesn't count. Nathan definitely doesn't count. Even growing up, safety was usually conditional. This feels different.
Sebastian takes a sip of whiskey.
I study him over the rim of my glass. "So what's your story?"
His eyes narrow. "My story?"
"Everyone has one."
"I don't."
"That's suspicious."
"I live in a cabin."
"That's even more suspicious."
"I knew telling you was a mistake."
I smile. "How long have you lived there?"
"A while."
"Specific."
"I try."
"What are you hiding?"
He shakes his head. "I'm not hiding anything."
"That's exactly what someone hiding something would say."
He points at me. "That's exactly what someone who watches too many crime documentaries would say."
I gasp. "How dare you."
His expression remains perfectly serious. "I regret nothing."
I stare at him. He stares back. Eventually I lose the battle and laugh first. He looks entirely too pleased by that. Then his expression shifts. Subtly.
"I was married once."
The words catch me off guard. The booth suddenly feels quieter. The noise of the bar fades slightly.
I blink. "You were?"
He nods. I wait. He doesn't continue.
"Okay," I say.
"Okay."
"That's all?"
"That's all."
I frown. "You're terrible at storytelling."
"I know."
A strange look passes across his face. Gone almost immediately. Then he says quietly, "I'll never get married again. Marriage is for fools. You’re lucky you fled when you did.”
The words hit me harder than they should. Much harder. A ridiculous amount harder. I stare at him waiting for an explanation. It never comes. He simply takes another sip of whiskey. Conversation over. Subject closed. Something twists unexpectedly inside my chest.
A sharp little ache. A disappointment that makes absolutely no sense.
I just met him! A few hours ago I was standing at an altar. A few hours ago I was supposed to marry someone else. So why does the idea of Sebastian never marrying again feel like a punch to the stomach?
It's absurd. Completely absurd. I don't even know this man. And yet the thought of him spending the rest of his life alone suddenly makes me sad.
Maybe because I can see the loneliness in him.
Maybe because he wears it so well that nobody else notices.
Or maybe because somewhere between the parking lot and this booth, I've started caring what happens to him.
Which is probably a terrible sign. Especially considering I still have veil pins in my hair.
Sebastian catches me staring.
"What?" I immediately look away.
"Nothing." His eyes narrow.
"That was suspicious."
"I learned from the best." I take another sip of my whiskey.
Neither of us is talking.
It's not awkward. Oddly enough, it's comfortable. The kind of silence that doesn't demand to be filled. The kind that lets me breathe.
Then Sebastian suddenly asks, "Where are you staying tonight?"
I blink.
The question catches me completely off guard. "Toooo-night, tonight?”
"That's generally how tonight works."
I roll my eyes. "You're very helpful."
"I try."
My smile fades slightly. Because unfortunately it's a valid question. One I haven't actually considered. I stare into my drink. The ice shifts softly against the glass.
"I don't know."
His eyebrows rise. "You don't know?"
I shake my head. "Nope."
"Hotel?"
I wince. "No."
"Friend?"
I shake my head again.
"My friends are mostly back at the wedding."
He nods slowly. "Family?"
I laugh. A short, bitter sound. "Absolutely not."
"Fair."
"Very fair."
His gaze studies me. Not judging. Just thinking. I suddenly become aware of how ridiculous my situation sounds. I'm wearing a bridal gown, I have one shoe, and apparently nowhere to sleep. Wonderful.
I take another drink. "Now that you've pointed out how pathetic my situation is, thank you very much?—"
"I didn't say pathetic."
"You implied pathetic."
"I implied concerning."
"Concerning is just pathetic wearing a tie."
The corner of his mouth twitches. I love making him laugh. Which is another deeply concerning development.
He sets his glass down. "You’ll stay at my cabin."
I blink. "I'm sorry, what?"
"My cabin."
I continue staring. He stares right back. Like he hasn't just casually suggested I stay at the isolated mountain home of a man I met an hour ago. My brain struggles to catch up.
"You want me to come stay with you?"
His expression remains completely calm. "Yes."
The fact that he says it so casually somehow makes it worse.
I narrow my eyes. "You realize that's exactly what a serial killer would say."
His eyebrows rise. "A serial killer?"
"Think about it." I say.
"I'm trying not to."
"'Come back to my remote cabin in the mountains,'" I say dramatically. "'Nothing bad has ever happened in a remote cabin in the mountains.'"
He snorts. Actually snorts. I feel absurdly proud of myself. Then he leans forward slightly.
"Are you a cop?"
I blink. "What?"
"A cop."
"No."
"That's exactly what a cop would say."
I stare at him. He stares at me. Then I burst out laughing. The laugh comes so suddenly that it nearly startles me. Sebastian joins in a second later. People glance over. Neither of us cares.
"You think I'm a cop?" I ask.
"You think I'm a serial killer."
"Fair point."
"I've watched documentaries."
"So have I."
I point at him. "See? That's suspicious."
He points back. "So is showing up at a bar in a wedding dress."
"I have an explanation."
"So do most serial killers."
I nearly choke on my drink. The fact that this man can say something so ridiculous with a completely straight face should be illegal.
I shake my head. Still smiling. Still somehow happier than I have any right to be. Sebastian watches me for a moment. Then says quietly, "The offer stands."
Something in his voice makes my chest tighten.
Not pressure or expectation. Just sincerity.
Like he'd genuinely sleep on the floor and give me his bed without thinking twice about it.
The realization warms something deep inside me.
This is not good. Because attractive mountain men with kind hearts are exactly the sort of thing women should avoid.
Especially women who just ran away from their wedding.
I should say no. I absolutely should.
Instead I hear myself asking, "Do you at least have a guest room?"
His expression changes. Subtle amusement. "I do."
"Good."
"Disappointed?"
I point at him. "Don't make this weird."
"You started the serial killer conversation."
"That's because you invited me to an isolated cabin."
"That's because you have nowhere else to stay."
I open my mouth. Close it. Open it again. Unfortunately he's right. Which is annoying.
I look down at my wedding dress. For some reason, the decision doesn't feel difficult. Maybe it should. Maybe every survival instinct I possess should be screaming. But it isn't. Because somehow I trust him. I don't know why. I just do.
Maybe it's the way he listens or the way he doesn’t push. Maybe it's the way his eyes soften whenever he thinks I'm not looking. Or maybe I'm completely insane. Honestly that's a strong possibility too.
I take a deep breath. Then smile. "Okay."
His eyebrows lift slightly. "Okay?"
"I'll come to your cabin."
For a brief second something flashes across his face. Surprise? Relief? Something else? Something I can't quite identify. And for reasons I don't fully understand, seeing it makes me smile even wider.
"Good," he says.
"Good?"
"Good."
I laugh. "You're very chatty."
"I save my words for important occasions."
I shake my head. The smile won't leave my face. Not even if I try. Sebastian reaches for the check, we jump in his truck, and head up the mountain.