Runaway Bride’s Guide to Love (Guide to Love #1)

11. Stella

11

stella

I know I wasn’t sold on coming to Destin when it was my honeymoon.

But being here for my non honeymoon? Well, this isn’t too shabby.

I have the hot sun on me and a frozen drink with an umbrella in my hand as the salt water hits my legs. Every time the tide hits me, it washes away another piece of anger that has been building inside me all day.

At least I hope it is.

Because I’m mad. So damn mad. And I don’t know why today it’s all bubbling to the surface, but it is. As I lay here and try to bask in the sun, all I can think about is everything I want to be mad about.

I’m mad that I wasted time and money on a day only I cared about.

I’m furious that he drained our bank accounts. Maybe more so now than when I found out about it. I’m so mad that I shot a text off to my dad asking if I could sue Duncan. He said we’d talk about it when I got back. Which is his way of saying, “let’s think this through when you’re not emotional and drunk. ”

Which is fair. These frozen drinks are going down way too smoothly.

My dad also knows I wouldn’t actually sue. Duncan might be a lying, stealing, cheating scumbag, but he’s a good attorney. The battle between him and my dad would go on for years. No one has time for that. Plus, years of working at a law firm has made me hate tiny, revenge-filled, lawsuits. Though I would contend this wouldn’t be a petty lawsuit. No, I feel that I’m entitled to compensation for money that was stolen, my money that I paid for the wedding. Oh, and the emotional suffering I endured from wearing his mother’s wedding dress. Hell, I should sue just for that.

But I can’t, because I did that. I did a lot of this. Which brings me to who I’m mad at the most—myself. I want to slap myself for ignoring every red flag that is now so glaringly obvious. I’m furious that I made excuses for his behavior. And how I let myself change for him. I’m mad for having such a narrow focus and the need to have what others had to the point I didn’t see what was happening right in front of me.

I know I’ll move on. I know I’ll get over the hurt in my chest for the life I thought I was going to be living. But I don’t know when, or if, I’ll forgive myself for letting all of that happen.

“Room for another chair?”

I crack an eye open to see Emmett standing over me, completely blocking the sun. I didn’t know one person’s shadow could completely engulf a person.

And why is that so hot?

“Sure,” I say, signaling next to me. “Though, I don’t know if I’m good company today.”

“That’s fine.” He unfolds the chair he brought down from the house and starts to take his shirt off. “I’m more of a silent beachgoer anyway.”

Sweet baby Jesus…

I don’t mean to stare at Emmett’s chest, but…I am. He’s not even doing it in a sexual way. He’s just a man taking off his shirt at the beach. And I don’t blink for a single second as I watch in awe.

In my defense, I’ve never seen an eight-pack of abs before. I’ve also been with the human version of a Q-tip for the past four-ish years.

Emmett is…manly. Bronzed skin. Defined muscles without it looking like he lives at the gym. A slight trail of hair that leads down to, then disappears, inside his trunks. Trunks that I bet cling to his muscular thighs if he were to step into the water. I find myself biting my lip at the thought of a wet Emmett, his hair slicked back and the drops of water running down his face and the sweat pooling on his chest.

“You okay, Tiger?”

Emmett’s words, in conjunction with the water smacking me on the legs, snap me out of my fantasy.

And what a fantasy it was…

“Yeah,” I say, fumbling for an excuse as to why I was gawking at the man. Because judging by how he’s looking at me I’ve been clearly caught. “I’ve been drifting off a lot lately.”

Yes. That’s a good one. I hurry to talk again just in case he doesn’t buy it. “I thought you said you didn’t like the beach.”

He shrugs, turning his backward hat around to block the sun in his eyes as he takes a seat. “I don’t. But I’m here for the week, so, when in Rome, right? Plus, I thought you could use some company.”

“Thanks. But you don’t have to spend pity time with me. You said you don’t like the beach, and I’m already making you do things that you weren’t planning on.”

Emmett sits up a little in his chair. “Who said anything about pity?”

“Isn’t that what it is?”

“On the contrary.” He turns to me and the sincerity on his face hits me right in the heart. “This is me being done with work for today. This is me wanting to spend the day with my friend, relaxing on the beach. And who knows, maybe she can tell me what’s so great about beaches. And why getting sand up my shorts is relaxing.”

This makes me laugh. “Well, for starters, at this beach, you get frozen drinks.”

Emmett looks around. “Is there a bar?”

I shake my head and grab the cooler that is next to me and pull out a pitcher of strawberry daiquiris. “There is. Bar Stella.”

“Very nice,” he says. “I’ll take one, please.”

“Coming right up.”

I pull the plastic cocktail glass from the cooler and pour Emmett a drink. Because yes, I maybe, might have, on purpose, packed an extra glass for him.

I mean, a girl can hope, right?

It’s not that I was looking to see if he was coming down every five minutes. I knew he had work to do today. And he said he wasn’t a fan of the beach.

So I only looked every ten minutes.

In my defense, I don’t do well being alone. I grew up in a house with four siblings. I shared a room with Ainsley until I was thirteen, and even after that she was in the room right next to me. When I went to college, I lived in a quad before moving to the sorority house. After I graduated, Ainsley and I got an apartment together in Nashville, where I lived until I moved in with Duncan.

I’ve never been completely on my own. And I don’t think I thought of that when my sisters gave me the grand idea to do a solo vacation. At first it sounded freeing. Then on the plane ride I realized it was terrifying. It’s probably why I all but forced Emmett to become my vacation buddy.

Yes. We’re going to go with that. I was lonely, and that’s why I asked him to stay. Not because he’s male perfection and he made me a sundae.

“Cheers,” I say, needing to get my mind back on track. Except when I go to extend my glass, he doesn’t meet mine. “What? Did I do cheers wrong? ”

He shakes his head. “Not wrong per se. I’ve just always been of the belief that if you’re going to cheers, you have to make it count for something. Otherwise it’s just two people clinkin’ glasses to say they did.”

“Never thought of it that way. That actually makes a lot of sense.”

He sends me a wink, and I choose to ignore the fact that it sends a jolt of something through my body. “So, Tiger, if you want to cheers, tell me what we’re doing it to. Small or big. Just make it count.”

I think for a second. I know he said it didn’t have to be this huge thing, yet I feel this enormous pressure to make this meaningful.

That’s when it hits me.

“To making it count.”

This earns me a smile that I swear the sun radiates off. “I like that. To making it count.”

We tap our plastic glasses and take a sip before setting them down on my makeshift table—a.k.a. the top of my cooler.

We each lay back in our chairs as a comfortable silence falls between me and Emmett. The warmth of the rays combined with the slight breeze off the Gulf is the perfect balance. The beach is loud—it’s August in Destin, and people are getting in their last trips before the school year starts—but somehow I’m able to block all that out. It’s weird. This is the first time in days my brain has almost shut itself off. Not completely. But for right now, I’ll take it.

“So this is how you beach?”

I giggle. “Did you just make a Ken reference?”

“What’s a Ken reference?”

I shoot up from my chair so fast I nearly knock my designer sunglasses off my face. “Emmett Collins, do you not know about Ken and Barbie?”

“The dolls?” His confusion is adorable.

“Well, yes, they are dolls, but the movie. The Barbie Movie? ”

He shakes his head. “Can’t say I do.”

“Well, that’s just a shame,” I say. “It’s an American classic. A true cinematic masterpiece of the patriarchy and women in society.”

Emmett turns his face to me. “Then what does the beach have to do with it?”

This makes me laugh, which only leads to a more confused Emmett face. “You’ll just have to watch and find out.”

He shakes his head and turns back to his lounging position. “No thanks, Tiger. There’s no way I, as a thirty-seven-year-old man, am going to watch a movie about dolls.”

Thirty-seven. Huh. I guess he is. I knew he was Simon’s age, but I never really thought of it until now. When he was in high school, I was still playing with Barbies. I remember because I took one to Simon’s high school graduation. I always felt the age difference between me and Simon was huge. Though that was probably aided by the fact that he’s the oldest of the siblings and I’m the youngest.

But when I’m with Emmett, I don’t feel that gap. He’s Cap. I’m Tiger. An unlikely, yet amazing, duo. He doesn’t look at me like I’m young. He doesn’t treat me like it either. Which is refreshing. For years, especially at the office, I’ve battled lawyers thinking I’m a young girl who only got the job because of her dad. And I know Emmett and I haven’t had a lot of deep conversations, but I somehow know he doesn’t think that about me. When I’m with him, I’m with a guy who’s easy to talk to and doesn’t look at me like I’m a dumb blonde who’s only goal in life is to get married and have kids.

The Barbie of it all…

“You know,” I continue, “Simon watched it.”

“Good for him.”

“Don’t you want to be on an equal playing field? Make a reference that now he can’t monopolize?”

He turns back to me. “You’re going to keep going until I agree to watch it, aren’t you? ”

I shrug. “I never did get to play the runaway bride card.”

He groans, but it doesn’t sound like he’s really mad, which makes my smile as big as I’ve had it since he said he’d hang with me for the week.

“Fine. But we’re getting all the movie candy I like. And ordering dinner of my choosing. I’m talking burgers and fries and not a vegetable to be found.”

Is he really tempting me with a meal that I’ve not had in years because Duncan couldn’t eat greasy foods because he’d get a stomach ache? Hell yes.

“Can we get mozzarella sticks? And onion rings? Oh! And maybe some fried pickles? With ranch, obviously.”

Emmett gives me a wink that warms my body more than the sun ever could. “You got it, Tiger.”

I can’t believe what I think I’m seeing.

Emmett is crying.

Over the Barbie movie.

“Hey,” I say gently, putting down my ice cream bowl so I can hand him a tissue. “You okay?”

He rips it out of my hand and dabs his eye. “That song should be illegal.”

I laugh as I push pause on the movie. “Yes, it should.”

He quickly sniffs back the stray tears and tosses the tissue on the coffee table. “You are not going to tell your brother about this.”

I cross my heart with my finger. “You have my word.”

“Thanks.” He reaches for his beer and takes a long pull. I don’t mean to stare, but his jawline makes it virtually impossible. It’s perfectly defined without being too rigid and is covered by a beard that is, in my opinion, the perfect length. Not that I would know what the perfect beard length is. I’ve never dated a guy with one. Duncan tried to do No Shave November and he barely had stubble by the end. But I have a feeling Emmett’s beard is perfect. Just long enough to feel the scratch against your skin.

Focus Stella. No staring. No fantasizing. He’s your vacation buddy. And Simon’s friend. And business partner. There can’t be anything more. Even if that beard is making you think things.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course,” I say, hoping his question isn’t about his beard.

“I’ve known Simon for more than fifteen years. How have we never met?”

“Actually, I’ve wondered this too,” I say. “But, I was still in elementary school when you guys went to college together.”

“I’m aware.”

Why did he say it all growly like that? “So yeah, the few times I went to campus was for football games, and Simon would tear himself away from his tailgate to hang with us. And by the time I was in college, he was off living his life. He’d try to be the cool older brother occasionally when he was in town for games, but that’s it.”

“That makes sense,” Emmett says. “But in the past year since we reconnected, I feel like we should’ve run into each other.”

“Were you at the New Year’s Eve gender reveal?”

He shakes his head. “No. I was invited but was told by my boss not to attend.”

“Really?” Then it hits me about the timing of the party. “Did Simon keep you away because of his idiotic lie that he was telling Charlie about the restaurant?”

Emmett nods. “Exactly.”

I still to this day don’t know how Charlie puts up with him. “What about after the baby was born? That big party they had where Simon Simba’d my niece?”

He shakes his head. “I’m still mad I missed that one. That one, though, was random. I just happened to be out of town and couldn’t make it.”

“Wow,” I say. “The fact that we had multiple chances to meet, yet it took a random day at a random bar after the most unpredictable thing of my life.”

“Funny how life works.”

“It really is.”

We share small smiles before falling into a comfortable silence as I turn the movie back on. We’re not even in another five minutes when I get a calendar alert on my phone.

“Shit,” I mutter, clearing away the notification.

“Everything okay?”

“Depends on your definition of okay,” I say with a sigh. “Part of Simon’s honeymoon present was dinners he made reservations for at my favorite restaurants. I’m assuming they’re also paid for, knowing my brother. I told him not to cancel, feeling confident at the time that I’d be able to solo honeymoon much better than I am. The first is tomorrow night.”

“So don’t go,” Emmett says, like it’s just that easy. “You can do whatever your heart desires.”

I bite my bottom lip, for some reason nervous to say this out loud. “That’s where the conflict comes in. I want to go. It’s my favorite restaurant in Destin. When I was young and our family would come here, we always went. It was our big night out. We’d get dressed up, my dad would order sparkling grape juice for the kids as he and my mom shared a bottle of wine. It has this amazing seafood—I swear they’ve got the best clams I’ve ever had in my life—and the ambiance is so romantic. I remember seeing couples around us and they were always so in love. In my little girl fantasies, I imagined one day going there with my boyfriend or husband. Which I know is silly. And it’s also why I can’t go. I can’t let that little girl down, you know?”

I look away from Emmett, because the last thing I want him seeing are the tears pooling in my eyes. Which is why I don’t see him place his hand on my leg.

But I feel it. I feel it in every cell of my body.

“Hey,” he says gently. When I turn to him I see a smile that is quickly becoming a source of comfort for me. “You want to go to that dinner?”

I nod.

“Then we’re going.”

I have to blink a few times. “Excuse me?”

He shrugs like it isn’t a big deal, when it’s in fact the biggest of deals. Bigger than what he did for me the day of the wedding. Bigger than anything else he can do for me while he stays in Destin.

“I said we’re going to dinner tomorrow. Unless you’d rather go by yours?—”

“No! Oh my gosh, thank you!” I launch myself at him, hugging him as tight as my not-very-muscular arms can manage. My cheek connects with his, letting me feel every itch and scratch of his beard. Except I’m too excited to process that the itch feels way better than I thought. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

When I pull away, I can’t help but notice that Emmett clears his throat like he has a frog in it.

Could he—? No. That’s absurd. Me hugging Emmett didn’t make him need to compose himself. Even though I needed more than a few seconds.

Because the more I spend time with him, the more I realize I’m a fan of the beard. And his tanned body. And his smile.

I’m a fan of him. A big, big fan.

“I have to work tomorrow, so I won’t see you during the day,” he says, breaking the semi-awkward silence. “What time is the reservation?”

“Seven-thirty. Come by around seven?”

“It’s a date.”

Date.

I know it’s just a phrase. I know it doesn’t mean anything, and he didn’t mean it that way. And I know that because Emmett has already turned the movie back on and is paying no mind to me.

Which is good. Because I’m officially freaking the hell out.