The Spanish Millionaire's Runaway Bride

“Want to stop to find someplace to stay for the night and get dinner?”

“Sure.”

Her reply wasn’t exactly perky or happy, but she didn’t sound sad anymore, either. Ten minutes later, the road signs for a town began to appear, including one that named the available hotels and restaurants. He took the exit and drove to the first hotel.

With Morgan standing beside him, he booked a room for each of them using his own credit card. When he handed her key to her, she gave him the cash to cover her room. Then she took the handle of her suitcase and headed for the elevator.

“Don’t you want dinner?”

She stopped and faced him. “I’ll eat breakfast.”

She turned toward the elevator again, got in and disappeared behind the closing door.

He almost cursed. But not quite. She might not be angry with him but upset with the situation. And the situation was her doing, her problem. Not his. It was not his fault she had no support system. He’d rescued one damsel in distress—Cicely, who had been heartbroken over losing the love of her life—and that had ended in him being humiliated. He had learned this lesson and refused to fall into the same trap. He was a driver—he’d settled on that instead of jailer—not a knight in shining armor.

Besides, he needed something to eat. He didn’t even have a suitcase to drop off in his room. He could go now.

He walked to the sliding glass door of the popular chain hotel. It opened automatically and he turned to the right. A twenty-four-hour, diner-type restaurant was within walking distance. He strolled over, found a booth and ordered a burger and fries.

When his food arrived, his stomach danced. But when he picked up the hamburger and opened his mouth to take the first delicious bite, he remembered that Morgan had been in a restaurant, menu in front of her, when he’d barged in on her and reminded her that he’d always be able to find her because of her credit card. She’d been in that restaurant because she was hungry. No matter what she’d just said.

He sighed, put the burger back on his plate and hailed the waitress again.

“Is something wrong?”

He smiled. “Actually, it looks and smells delicious but I left my friend back at the hotel. Could I get a burger and fries to go for her?” The waitress nodded but before she turned away, he lifted his plate. “And could you put this in a to-go container, too?”

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?”