Donna . . . he could do this. He could be in a long-term committed relationship. He just needed to make more of an effort. He picked up his phone and called her, mulling over the idea of asking her to move into his apartment. Wasn’t that what couples did when they took things to the next level?
“Did you decide?” she asked in a snotty tone when she answered.
“I’m not going.”
“Wise choice, McMillan.” Her voice took on a husky tone. “I’ll be right over.”
He made a pot of coffee, wondering when he should ask her to move in. After they had sex or before?
But when he opened the door for her, apprehension sucked his breath away. Could he really spend the rest of his life with someone who only wanted him if he met the requirements of some checklist? Someone who’d asked him to cut off a close friend? Someone, he suddenly realized, he barely tolerated? He’d rather be alone and dateless for the rest of his life.
But something even more shocking hit him and the realization nearly knocked him over. He didn’t want to build a life with just anyone.
He wanted it with Libby—and only Libby.
He had to get to Kansas City and stop the wedding.
Noah put a hand on the doorframe, blocking her entry. “I made a mistake.”
“I know.” She batted her eyelashes. “And you rectified it, so let me in.” She opened her trench coat, revealing a sexy outfit of black lingerie. He felt absolutely nothing, which only strengthened his resolve.
“No. I don’t think you understand.” Why had he been such an idiot? “Choosing you was the mistake. I’m sorry, Donna, we’re done.”
She dropped the hold on her coat, her lingerie still exposed as she put her hands on her nonexistent hips. “Think long and hard about this, Noah McMillan. You’re never going to amount to anything without me. I was probably your one last chance to make something of yourself.”
Maybe she was right, but he was willing to take that chance. “Then I guess I’ll be the low-life slacker I was meant to be, because I’m done.” Then he shut the door on her stunned face.
How had he been such a fool?
He ran to his bedroom to throw some clothes in a suitcase and grab the bag with his rented tux. He hadn’t canceled his flight, and if he hurried, he could still make it there in time to stop her from making the worst mistake of her life.
Thankfully, Donna had left by the time he ran to his car and sped to the airport . . . only to discover his flight was delayed. While he waited, he opened his Facebook app and found a Tiffany Brown who lived in Seattle, went to Oregon State, worked for Scott Abrahams, and was in a relationship labeled “it’s complicated.” He sent her a friend request, knowing it was a long shot, in the hopes she could give him inside info about Scott Abrahams and the competition.
After a delay on the ground, the plane touched down three hours late, which meant the wedding was due to start in just half an hour. But when he tried to call Lib to tell her he was coming and to hold off going down the aisle until he got there, he realized his phone was dead. The night before had been so intense, he’d forgotten to charge it.
The rental car process seemed to take forever, especially since he had to take a shuttle to get there, but he finally headed out, following sketchy directions from the rental car agent, who looked all of fifteen. Amazingly enough, the directions were good, and when he saw the church up ahead, he went over his options. It was 5:15, which meant the wedding had already started. Maybe he could go inside and object, like everyone had done at Blair’s wedding.
He’d boarded the plane with the aim of interrupting the wedding, but now he couldn’t help wondering what Libby would do if he objected. Would she be relieved? Would she kill him?
He pulled into the parking lot and discovered the decision had been made for him. Libby was running out the church doors, Megan and Blair hot on her heels. Noah slowed down and drove toward them, his heart in his throat.
Then Libby bolted again, running straight for his car. He hit the unlock button, watching in disbelief as she threw her bouquet into the crowd and then opened his passenger door. The sudden frenzy of women vying for the flowers reminded him of feeding time in a shark tank. Amazingly enough, Megan’s gram was front and center.
The door opened and Libby scrambled into the passenger seat. The crowd streaming out of the church was growing by the second, and Mitch stood in front of all of them like he was their disgraced quarterback.
She kept her eyes on the crowd as she shut the door. “I’ll pay you a hundred dollars if you get me out of here right now.”
She was here. In his car. And from the look on Mitch’s face, she wasn’t married.
“Only a hundred?” he asked, purposely trying to keep his tone light. “My plane ticket cost more than that.”
Libby sucked in a breath and turned to look at him, anger in her eyes.
Oh. Shit.
Chapter Three
Noah’s grin faltered, probably because he realized he was in deep shit. But getting away took precedence. She could kill him later.
Mitch raced toward the car, and even the older guests had streamed out onto the lawn. “Libby!”
Panic spiked her pulse. “What are you waiting for? Go!”
The car lurched forward and the tires squealed on the asphalt. “Where are we going?” he asked, clearly confused.
“I don’t care!” she shouted. “Just drive!”
He barely stopped at the street corner before skidding around it.
Oh, God. What had she done?
“Libby?” he asked, sounding worried. “What happened?”
“Shhhhhhh!” she hissed loudly, covering her face with her hands. “Just give me a minute.”
Thankfully, he knew her well enough to keep quiet.
What the hell had she been thinking? Why had she been so certain the stupid curse would work for her? Megan and Blair had been right. It was a coincidence that both of their love stories fit the fortune teller’s prophecy. Nothing more. Nothing less.
She was a fool.
And now, because of her idiocy, she’d wasted several thousand dollars, broken Mitch’s heart, and humiliated herself in front of a hundred people.
She’d done plenty of stupid things in her day—like the time she ran off to Monte Carlo with a mechanic who swore he was becoming a Formula One racer, only to return a week later with a sunburn and a seven-thousand-dollar balance on her Visa card. Or the time she was arrested for painting a mural with amazing anatomical detail of her ex-boyfriend’s penis, right down to the bump near his testicle, on the side of his new girlfriend’s house—but she wasn’t so sure she’d live this one down.
“Where to, Lib?” Noah asked, his concern evident.
Where to? She couldn’t go home and face all those wedding presents stacked in the corner of her living room. She couldn’t face her friends, or God forbid, her mother. She definitely couldn’t face Mitch, although she owed him the apology of all apologies, and it still wouldn’t be enough.
The truth was, there was nowhere she could go that would make her feel any better than she felt right now in this car. It felt like the entire world had melted away, leaving behind only her and Noah, the one person she could trust to understand.