SUSAN MEIER - The Spanish Millionaire's Runaway Bride

She took his plate. “I’ll be glad to.”

Twenty minutes later, he arrived back at the hotel with a bag containing two orders of fries and two burgers. Remembering her room number, he pushed the elevator button for her floor and inhaled deeply as the little car climbed. When the bell chimed, he stepped out and walked down the hall.

He hesitated at her door but only for a second. His nanna would shoot him for letting anyone go hungry, especially a woman in his custody.

He knocked twice and waited. After a few seconds, her door opened as far as the chain lock would allow.

“Checking up on me, Mr. Jailer?”

“No.” He displayed the bag of food. “I bought you a hamburger.”

“Leave it outside my door. I’ll get it.”

“Come on. Let me in. I’m sorry for my part in this but I made a promise and I keep my promises. If you’re angry, it’s because you don’t like the idea of going back and facing the music.”

She closed the door, undid the chain lock and opened it again. “No. I’m angry because I honest-to-God thought I’d get almost two weeks to think all this through before I had to go home and settle things with my dad and Charles.” She motioned him over to the small table at the back of the room. “I should have laughed at the best man’s dumb wedding toast, but what he’d said was true. My dad had groomed Charles to be his son-in-law and I’d fallen in line like a fluffy sheep. I would like a few days to consider all sides of the argument I’m about to have, so I’ll know what to say and I can win.”

His curiosity about how she hadn’t seen what was going on and had been a sheep almost overwhelmed him. But if he asked for specifics he’d become involved and he didn’t want to be involved. Rescuing Cicely had been enough.

He pulled the containers out of the bag and set them on the table. “You can think the entire drive.” She didn’t reply, but he noticed she also didn’t say no to the food. “The orders are the same. Bacon burgers and fries.”

She smiled stupidly. “I haven’t had a burger in years.” She peeked over at him. “Not since college.”

“Really?”

“There’s a lot of fat in beef.”

“I know. I love it.”

She shook her head then sat on one of the two chairs at the table. “At least I don’t have to worry about fitting into a gown.”

Taking his cue from her, he sat on the chair across from her. “There is that.”

She bit into the hamburger and groaned in ecstasy. “That’s so freaking good.”

He laughed.

She tried a fry and her eyes closed as she savored it. “I can’t eat like this the whole trip. We have to have a salad now and again.”

“Noted.” He also noted she hadn’t called him a jailer again and she was making small talk. He bit into his burger and his stomach sighed with relief. He ate three bites and four fries before he realized she’d gone silent again.

She did have things to work out before she talked to her dad. But his curiosity rose again. Plus, he didn’t want her to be sad for five long days. Surely, he could hear the story without wanting to jump in and fix things for her.

“What did your fiancé’s best man say in the toast that made you feel like a sheep?”

She shrugged. “That my dad had groomed Charles to be his son-in-law. Not even my husband. His son-in-law.” She shook her head as if she could shake away the anger. “But it wasn’t all about the toast. The toast merely confirmed odd, disjointed thoughts I’d been having for a few months before the wedding. My first doubts appeared while we were planning. I realized that Charles insisted on his own way a lot.”

“Were you one of those brides who’d planned her wedding when she was six and got mad when he asked for a few changes?”

“No. It was more that he had this grand, elegant event planned, and since I was sort of clueless about what I wanted, I went along.”

“Makes sense.”

For the first time in hours she held his gaze. The sadness was gone from her pretty blue eyes, but not the confusion.

“Yes. At the time, it did.”

“But eventually it didn’t?”

“No, eventually I saw that he got his own way a lot. That he always told me what we’d be doing. Everything from vacations to whose Christmas parties we’d attend.”

“Ah.”

“Then I noticed that if I tried to get something my way, he’d bulldoze me.” She suddenly closed the lid on her container of food, which was still half-uneaten, and bounced out of her seat. “You know what? That’s enough about me and my almost wedding to Charles.” She tossed her container in a wastebasket under the small, wooden desk and turned to him with a smile. “I’m tired and I’m talking about things I haven’t even worked through.”

He understood why her realizations infuriated her enough that she was done talking. Cicely had been all about getting her own way about their wedding, too, and he’d wanted so much to make her happy that he always fell in line.

“I knew somebody like that. We were engaged.”

“What happened?”

“She called off the wedding.”

She grimaced. “Like me?”

“No. She called it off a few days before so we had a chance to cancel things like flowers and the caterer.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hey, I didn’t tell you that to make you feel worse. I wanted you to understand that I’ve dealt with someone who was selfish, too. Cicely didn’t let me have a say in our wedding and though she didn’t exactly bulldoze, she did have a knack for always getting her own way.”

Morgan laughed.

He smiled. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

Her head tilted and her eyes met his. “I don’t feel better. I may never feel better. I was suffocating in that dress, walking down the aisle. Turning and running was like saving myself...like a survival instinct.” She drew in a breath and huffed it out again. “But I upset people. And I’m not used to that. I’m not used to putting myself first at the expense of others. When I turned and ran, I lost the girl who would never in a million years hurt another person. So, no. I don’t feel better. I may never feel better again.”

* * *

The next morning, he brought breakfast sandwiches to her room. Morgan suspected that was to keep her moving, but he need not have worried. She didn’t intend to slow him down. She wanted him to trust her again. When they reached the point in the highway when one simple turn would take them to Chicago, she wanted him to be willing to take it.

“Can I help with your suitcase?”

A week ago, she wouldn’t have minded a man being deferential to her. Now? She just wanted to do things herself. To be herself. But she wouldn’t argue something so stupid and risk alienating him. She let him wheel her bag out to the parking lot.

When they had settled in the car, she pointed up the road. “I see a few stores along there. Do you want to drive over and get a pair of jeans? Maybe a clean shirt or two?”

He laughed. “Do I smell bad? Or are you prolonging the trip?”

“Neither.” She pulled in a breath. There was no time like the present to start the campaign to get him on her side. “As I told you last night, I’m normally a very considerate person. Now that the shock is wearing off, part of the real me must be coming back.”

He glanced over. “I get that.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah, I thought about what you’d said about how you felt when you bolted, and I realized there probably isn’t a person in the world who doesn’t understand the feeling of suffocating when you’re with someone who always has to have their own way.”

Though he didn’t know that her dad was really the one suffocating her, she smiled. “Thank you.”