Runaway Groom [Ethma]

10

ETHAN

I don't drive as fast as I want to, not because I'm not dying to see what the red BMW can do, but because I'm acutely aware that these could be my last minutes spent with Emma.

"What's your last name?" I ask once we're on the main road and out of sight of both the van and the cameras.

She pulls a hair elastic from her wrist and winds her long dark hair into a messy knot atop her head to protect it from the wind. "Why?"

"Are you always ornery, or is it just with me?"

"I'm not ornery," she says indignantly. "I'm just wondering why you need my last name. We're supposed to remain anonymous."

"We both know I can find out within two minutes of being back at the villa."

She looks out at the ocean, then back at me. "Chamberlain. But don't go stalking me when the show is over."

"I'll try to contain myself."

She studies me. "Did you write my name on that piece of paper?"

"Yes." No point in denying it.

"Why?"

"Because for someone who hates my guts, you seemed mighty keen to talk to me. I got curious."

"First of all, 'mighty keen'? Did you get cast in some historical period piece I don't know about? And second of all, I never said I hated your guts."

"No. Just that you couldn't wait to go home at the first possible moment."

"Don't sulk," she says, shifting in her seat to face me more fully. "We both know you'd be out of here ASAP if you could."

"How do you figure?"

"Because I've seen almost all of your movies. I know when you're playing a character. And the Ethan Dolan that shows up every time the cameras roll? That's acting."

"Says the girl who's known me for all of two days."

"Fine," she says, throwing her hands up. "I'm wrong. You really are here looking for your one true love. Tell me, should I get you a crystal vase or china off your registry?"

I grin at her prickly tone. "Depends on what china my bride-to-be selects."

"You mean your wife," Emma says. "Don't forget, this ends in a wedding, not a proposal."

Thanks for the reminder.

Glancing up at the rearview mirror to verify that nobody from the show's on our tail, I act on impulse and pull into the left-turn lane of the highway.

Emma says nothing as I pull into a parking spot at one of the many public beaches. "If you're planning to bury my body, there are witnesses."

I punch the button of her seatbelt. "Take a walk with me, Chamberlain."

"Why?" she asks. But she climbs out of the car when I do, and I sense that she appreciates the reprieve from all things Jilted as much as I do.

We walk toward the water, and I kick off my flip-flops in the shade of a tree before looking pointedly at her feet.

"I'll keep them on."

"I thought you said you were from San Diego. At what point did you miss the part where high heels and soft sand aren't compatible?"

"They're platforms, not stilettos. And they weren't cheap. What if—"

Impatient, I bend down and haul her right foot toward me, throwing her off balance, so she has no choice but to put her hands on my shoulders.
I grin up at her as my fingers find the fragile buckle near her ankle, feeling her glare through the sunglasses.