Chapter 3
Chapter Three
P ull over,” Quinley said after they’d made it out of Wilmington, across the bridge into Leland, and a few more miles toward their destination.
“You change your mind?”
“I’m going to be sick. So unless you pull over…”
Elias quickly did as ordered, and she held tight to the door handle as he got them off the road and stopped.
She didn’t have time to get out, so she simply flung open her door and leaned sideways, making awful sounds as she dry heaved from the nerves and stress of the day since she had nothing in her stomach.
There were police everywhere, and although it seemed they were simply performing their normal patrols, every time she spotted one, her insides burned with unease. Every second that passed increased the pressure inside her until it felt as though she’d self-combust.
She heaved again and again. Nothing emerged but the pain of it brought tears to her eyes.
She had only herself to blame for the mess she was in. But the next week? The next month? She had yet to walk the hell on earth she’d created with her choices, but she would, and that fear and trepidation overwhelmed her.
“Take a few sips of this,” Elias said, his hand grasping her left forearm to place a plastic bottle in her hand.
She sipped the water, noting it had already been opened and drank from, but it wasn’t like she could be choosy at the moment. Her stomach rolled and threatened to heave again, but the water helped settle it, so she took a few more sips. “Thank you,” she said after long minutes where she leaned her forehead against the wrist and hand she had braced and clamped on the door.
“Better now?” he asked.
With a start she realized he’d shifted on the seat and held her hair in his hand, fisted at her nape. She welcomed the comfort even though he was a virtual stranger.
She inhaled, the breath as deep as she was able to take, the urgency over for the moment at least. “Yes, thank you. Sorry about that.”
“That dress have a zipper or something I can loosen up?”
“Oh, yes please,” she said, angling her back toward him and raising the borrowed shirt. “Zipper’s in the back. Rip it if you have to.”
“You can grab sweats from the duffle once you get this thing off,” he offered.
It took Elias a few tries to find the teeny-tiny zipper fob, and of course it stuck repeatedly as he pulled on it.
“Rip it. Tear it. I don’t care. Just get me out.”
She heard him shift behind her until he was able to grab the top of the dress and hold it tight while his other hand yanked hard at the noncooperating zipper.
Then, like canned biscuits bursting with a zzz instead of a pop , the dress gave way and she sucked in a much-needed breath. “Sweet baby Jesus,” she breathed, praising God and all things holy because she could fill her lungs to capacity. “That’s wonderful.”
His low laugh filled her ears and sounded a bit rusty. But a shiver rolled through her when his hot breath teased her skin now that her dress wasn’t wrapped around her like a boa constrictor.
“Why wear something that tight if you’re miserable all day in it?”
“Ask the mothers,” she muttered, shifting on the seat and dropping the shirt so that it covered her bare back and the now-gaping front. She had a sticky bra in place, but the last thing she needed was to add a peep show to the chaos of the day.
There was no way she could pull on a pair of his sweats without yanking the dress all the way down first either, but it would be easier to do while they were stopped and not in a moving vehicle. “Would you mind turning that way?” She pointed her finger toward his window.
Elias frowned but then seemed to understand why she asked and did as requested. She wasted no time, squirming and yanking the torture device down to shimmy the material over her hips like a snake shedding its skin before kicking it off and stomping it into the floorboard with a little more force than necessary.
“I don’t suppose you have any flip-flops in that bag of yours?”
The Carolina Cove T-shirt and sweats weren’t exactly a match for her six-inch glittering heels—another mother-must for her wedding day.
If she ever got married, she promised herself then and there she’d be barefoot or in flats. She was a beach girl after all. Born and bred.
“Yeah, if you dig deep. They’re probably on the bottom.”
That was the thing with true Carolinians. It could be thirty degrees outside, but if the sun was shining, they’d still be wearing their flip-flops.
She felt around the bag, a little fearful of what else she might find, seeing as how he was a single guy heading on vacation, but thankfully her hand landed on sweats and a familiar foamy thickness. She went to work freeing her poor feet next.
Designer heels mercifully off and tossed over her shoulder into the backseat with two solid clunks, she stretched her feet and reveled in the ability to flatten them out of the Barbie pose before she quickly yanked on the sweats, shoved her feet into the flip-flops, and almost felt like an entirely new person.
Almost.
There was still the matter of being a bride on the run, and needing to lay low until she got her head together and figured out her next move. She also had to come up with a statement to make to the media as well as think of what to say to Rhys since she needed to talk to him soon.
Yeah, no problem there, right? What could she say after today? “I’m done,” she said. “You can turn around now.”
She glanced up and saw herself reflected in his window thanks to the light from the dash. Had he watched her strip?
“Feel better?”
“Definitely.”
She gathered up the dress next, rolling it and bunching it into a ball, and then it too went sailing toward the backseat even though she was tempted to throw it out the window.
“Ready to roll again?”
“Like a ball downhill.”
Elias’s low, rumbly sound still wasn’t quite a laugh, but it made her glance his way once more because she couldn’t help herself.
Elias looked like his brothers, all tall and dark and handsome. But he seemed too uptight and way too stern for her liking, not that she was about to nitpick her choice of getaway guy under the circumstances. Especially when he’d just agreed to letting her tag along on what would probably have been a quiet, uneventful drive.
She knew the bare bones basics about the Blackwell family, thanks to Ana’s engagement to Cole, but she was curious to know more. “Any chance we can stop somewhere and pick up some snacks for the story?”
“What story?”
She lifted her tight shoulders and shrugged. “Asheville is about six hours away, right? It’s going to be a long drive, and I really don’t want to talk about what happened today, much less be alone in my head to think about it right now. I’d rather hear about your family since my best friend is going to be a part of it. I want to know what she’s getting herself into.”
His gaze narrowed at her choice of words as though she meant she’d try to talk Ana out of marrying Cole, but then Elias shrugged and nodded. “That might be doable. Buckle up.”
Elias clipped himself back into his seatbelt and turned off the hazards he’d apparently turned on for her indelicate moment. He turned on his blinker, checking the fairly quiet roadway before picking up speed and merging back into the flow of traffic. At this time of evening, most people were heading to Wilmington for a night of fun, not leaving it.
They drove to the next exit, and Elias pulled off at a gas station that had a small chain restaurant inside. When he rolled to a stop and parked, she sucked in a breath, guilt blasting through her like something nuclear.
The widescreen television inside the restaurant showed her and Rhys’s engagement photo, blown up to whopping proportions and in full color. The photo then shrank to the corner as the screen flashed with video of her running her ridiculous tiptoe run down the side street, looking as though she chased after the dark-haired Elias making his way to the limo instead of randomly walking out and realizing he was her means of escape.
The video then changed to the limo whipping around the side of the building, then replayed and froze on a still image of the two of them facing one another like—like they shared some deep dark secret?
Who is the mystery man? The caption spread from corner to corner in large letters.
The images of Elias’s face were grainy and shadowed or taken from behind as he’d approached the limo outside the hotel, whereas hers was clearly visible.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. A surge of grief and sorrow and pain threatened to explode from her as she stared at the repeat of images on the screen, her gaze locked on Rhys’s handsome face. I’m so, so sorry, Rhys.
She swallowed hard, forcing down the roll of upset and unease threatening to make her heave again.
“Stay put,” Elias growled grimly from across the truck.
She paid him no attention as he shrugged out of his jacket and vest, but when he yanked on the cuffs of his dress shirt and started rolling them up his thick and muscular forearms, she found herself taking a few peeks and focusing on his task because it grounded her. Kept the anxiety and fear and regret from swallowing her whole.
“I’ll text Cole and let him know we made it out of Wilmington. Any special requests while I’m in there?”
“Junk food,” she said automatically. Her wedding diet was over, and it was stress binge-eating time. If she could keep it down. Did guilt always feel so…heavy? “Chips, cookies. Lots of junk food. And dark chocolate.”
That low growl of his left him. “You know that stuff will kill you, don’t you? It’s not good for you.”
An incredulous sound gurgled out of her throat. Good for her? Was today good for her? “Neither’s jumping over penthouse balconies, but—a girl’s gotta live a little. And dark chocolate is good for you. Prove me wrong.”
He frowned at her words but didn’t say anything else as he got out of the truck. “Keep your head down and lock up until I get back.”
She did as ordered, sinking in the seat and reveling in the ability to slump after being stuck in the straitjacket of a dress for so long. She wallowed in misery as she watched herself on screen and waited impatiently, lifting a hand to shield her face when a couple walked by from the direction of the hotel next door. They entered the same doors as Elias but walked to the restaurant counter to order.
Elias rounded several aisles after shooting off what was apparently a quick text before gathering up snacks. She split her gaze between him, the giant television that continued to show photos of her and Rhys taken over the past two years from dates and various high-profile events, and the shadowy group of people approaching from the hotel.
Sick to her stomach, she bounced her legs with nervous energy, unable to sit still when the news clip continued on and on and on with painful detail.
Why were there so many pictures? Why replay it again and again as though her antics of the day were more important than world politics and news?
Elias took forever inside, and she frowned when she spotted him rounding another aisle with a small red basket in his large hand. He’d apparently taken her request seriously because the basket overflowed.
The man who’d been inside talking to the cashier when they’d arrived exited the door and headed toward the hotel, walking in front of the truck. His head turned toward her as he passed by the hood and even though she pretended not to notice him, he paused.
“Hey, beautiful. What are you doing in there all alone? Come on out, and I’ll buy you dinner.”
She ignored him, hoping he’d move on.
“Come on,” he said, his voice muffled by the locked vehicle. “You’re too pretty to sit in there all by yourself. My buddies and I are going to have some fun. You want to come with?”
The man’s attention on her drew the notice of the group who’d left the hotel and were making their way closer. The three men greeted the one speaking to her, and she groaned when all four of them then turned to stare at her.
One of them said something, and the group of them laughed, the tones and the expressions on their leering faces revealing whatever had been said hadn’t been complimentary.
She searched for Elias’s dark head inside the convenience store and saw that he was finally at the checkout counter. Through the window, they locked gazes, and seemingly he frowned in her direction, but she realized he probably couldn’t see the men on her side of the truck due to the stacked merchandise inside the convenience store.
While the men stood shoulder to shoulder talking and staring at her in that creepy way guys sometimes do, Elias finally exited the store.
She saw the moment he realized what was going on and noticed he shifted the bags in his hands, making them easy to drop or throw from his left while freeing his right.
He gave the men a hard glare, making it clear the attention wasn’t welcome, and nodded for her to unlock the truck once he was at the door. The moment she unlocked it, she quietly slid her lock back into place.
“Nice truck, dude.”
Elias gave them a curt nod, tossing the bags through the space between the console with ease before climbing in.
“Pretty lady you got there. You guys like to party? We can show her a good time.”
Elias didn’t bother with a response and shut his door with a slam. Since the truck had been running with the heat on low to combat the chill, he put the lifted Gladiator in reverse and got them out of there.
She exhaled in a gush once they were away from the group. “Those guys had some bad juju,” she said, staring down at her trembling hands.
“Is it always like that for you? All you were doing was sitting in a truck. You weren’t hanging out the window flirting with them.”
“Haven’t you heard? Women just need to blink, and we’re asking for it,” she said darkly, her upset of the day a few shovels deeper. Men had no clue what it felt like to be looked at as prey on a daily basis. It wasn’t ingrained in them the way it was into women.
His hands fisted over the steering wheel. “I have a kid sister. It drove me nuts to see the way guys looked at her when she came into my gym. She now works out at her employers’ house so it’s one less worry for me. But keeping a few of the bolder guys in line at my gym has become a priority. I’ve had to ban a few over the years.”
She blinked at his words. Maybe Elias was a little more self-aware than most if he was able to note that. As to the gym, she remembered Ana mentioning that one of the brothers owned a gym.
She’d been using the gym at Rhys’s high-end condo, but she’d have to find a new one now. Yet another detail to add to her growing list of must-dos. “Some guys just don’t get it. Or they do, but they simply don’t care. Thanks for…getting us out of there.”
“That’s not what you needed after all you’ve been through today.”
Elias stretched a hand across the interior of the cab and twisted, snagging a bag from where he’d tossed it into the rear.
The truck wobbled a bit as he brought it over the console and handed it to her. “You need to eat something and get some water in you. Have at it. If you don’t see anything in there you like, there’s another in the back.”
She took the bag and opened it up to see an array of items. “Almonds, protein bars, turkey jerky? You call this junk food? Where’s the Oreos? The chocolate? The gooey goodness of a Snickers?”
“I tried,” he said, seemingly more to himself than her. “Check the other bag.”
She leaned into the back and snagged plastic, dragging it over the console to join the one still on her lap. “Yeah, this is more like it,” she said, pulling out a package of Oreos.
“Junk food is bad for you.”
“But it tastes so good,” she drawled throatily, earning a side eye from him.
She grinned at his perturbed expression. “Why are you hating on my favorite food groups?”
“I’m not hating.”
“Oh, you’re hating.”
“I’m guessing you haven’t eaten anything today. Do you really think that’s the best choice?”
“Is it that or something else?”
“Let’s stick with that.”
She shifted in the seat to get more comfortable and ripped open the wrapping. “This,” she said softly, “is forbidden contraband.”
“What do you mean?”
She peeled back the wrapping with all of the delicate anticipation it deserved and ogled the black-and-white perfection. “Growing up, my parents had this thing about never having junk food in the house because we ,” she stressed, deepening her voice to her father’s level of sternness, “had an image to uphold. ‘Pretty people sell goods, Quinley, and to sell our advertising services, we have to maintain our image.’”
“Your father was the food police.”
“Yup,” she said, popping the P just before opening her lips to take a bite. “O. M. Gee,” she said, the taste shooting her dopamine into orbit. “Worth every freaking calorie. Take that, wedding diet.”
“Food should never be used as a celebration or a punishment,” he said.
“Agreed,” she said, still chewing. “But when a woman is on her period, or she’s a runaway bride? Do not get in the way of her and chocolate. Trust me, nothing is going to stop this binge.”
“One package,” he said, “and then a protein bar and bottle of water.”
“ Who’s the food police?”
“You can eat whatever you like, but you need nutrients, too.”
“Aww, are you worried about my health, Elias? Because if you’d seen me earlier when my foot slipped off the balcony today…” she drawled, not even bothering with a bite this time and stuffing a whole cookie into her mouth. Dear God, let there be chocolate in heaven.
“Can we not talk about that? Other than to agree that you promise not to ever do something so stupid again?”
“All part of my escape,” she said simply.
“So you don’t regret it?” Elias shot her a look. “I’m just asking. We’re close enough to Carolina Cove that it’s not too late, Quinley. I can still turn around and take you back. You can try to work it out with your fiancé.”
She held his gaze and bit another cookie in half, tucking it into her cheek. “Nope, I’m good. Besides, I said I don’t want to talk about it anymore, remember? Not tonight. The binge has started and cannot be interrupted for wedding drama. That means you’re on the hot seat. Tell me all the Blackwell secrets—but only the juicy ones.”