A Bride for the Runaway Groom. Scarlet Wilson

started to murmur out loud. ‘But I know nothing about weddings. Receptions, marquees, dinners, dresses...’

      Her mother smiled. ‘Oh, honey. Leave the dress to me. I’m going to get the one I always wanted.’ Her gaze locked with Rick’s and it was clear they were lost in their own little world.

      Rick waved his hand. ‘Ask Daisy. She knows all about it.’ He let out a little laugh. ‘Or ask your friend. He’s had his fair share of organising weddings.’

      Her parents turned and drifted back out of the room, lost in conversation with each other. That was it. Decision made. And everything left to Rose.

      Rose turned to face Will. Her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth. She’d kill for a cosmopolitan right now. Her mouth was so dry she couldn’t even begin to form words. She’d been blindsided. By her parents.

      Will was looking just as pale.

      She lifted her hands. ‘I... I...’ But the words wouldn’t come out. The only sound that did come out was a sob. All this work. Organising a wedding in a few weeks might be okay for some people. But some people weren’t Rick Cross and Sherry Huntingdon. They’d have a spectacular guest list—who’d all come with their list of demands. Where on earth would she find the kind of caterer she’d need at short notice? Her parents were very picky about food.

      And what was worse—already she wanted it to be perfect for them.

      Her heart was thudding in her chest. The more she thought, the more she panicked. Her chest was tight. The air couldn’t get in. It couldn’t circulate. Tears sprang to her eyes.

      Will stepped straight in front of her. ‘Rose? Sit down. You’re a terrible colour.’ He pulled a chair over and pushed her down onto it, kneeling beside her. ‘In fact, no. Put your head between your legs.’

      The inside of his palm connected with the back of her head and pushed down. She didn’t even have time to object.

      The thudding started to slow. She wasn’t quite so panicky. After a few seconds she finally managed to pull in a breath.

      This was a nightmare. A big nightmare. She didn’t have enough hours in the day to do what her parents wanted. But how on earth could she say no?

      She lifted her head a little and a tear snaked down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly.

      Will looked worried. ‘There must be someone else who can organise this for them? What about your sisters? They can help? Or can’t you hire someone?’

      ‘To organise my own parents’ renewal of vows? How, exactly, would that look?’ She waved her hand. ‘And Daisy might just have done it all but she’s off on her honeymoon to Italy for the next two weeks. Violet knows as much about weddings as I do.’ Her voice cracked as their gazes collided.

      And something in her head went ping.

      ‘Will, you have to help me.’

      A furrow creased his brow. The anaesthetic had finally started to wear off. ‘But isn’t it supposed to be the other way? I wanted you to give me some advice about PR for my homeless charity.’

      She straightened her shoulders and drew in a deep breath. Things were starting to clear in her head. She wasn’t dumb. Only an hour ago Will Carter hadn’t been above trying to blackmail her. Head injury or not—it was time for her to use the same tactics.

      ‘Dad was right. You have the perfect skill set to help me out here. Help us out.’

      Realisation started to dawn on him and he shook his head. ‘Oh, no. Your dad wasn’t being serious.’ It was his turn to start to look panicked.

      She smiled. This was starting to feel good. ‘Oh, I think he was.’

      She placed her hands on her hips as she stood up. Will was still kneeling by her chair. It was the first time she’d been head and shoulders above him. There was something empowering about this. She held out her hand towards him. This might be the only way out of this mess.

      ‘Will Carter? If you want my help, then I want yours.’ She could feel herself start to gain momentum.

      ‘You can’t be serious.’

      ‘Oh, but I am. I help you and you help me.’

      He stood up. ‘Do what exactly?’

      There was something good about the way he mirrored the same panicked expression she’d had a few minutes earlier.

      She stretched her hand a little further. ‘I help you with your PR. You help me with this crazy wedding renewal.’

      He shook his head. ‘I think you’ve got this all wrong. I only ever made it to one wedding. The rest never got anything like that far. Sure, I helped with some of the planning but that doesn’t make me an expert. The label in the press—Runaway Groom—it doesn’t really mean that. I’ve never even been a groom.’ He was blustering, trying anything to get out of this. ‘I don’t even like weddings!’ was his last try.

      She pressed her lips together to stop herself from laughing out loud. She liked seeing him floundering around. Will Carter liked to be in control. Liked to be charming. She could almost feel the weight lift from her shoulders. This might even be the tiniest bit fun.

      She smiled at him. ‘Will Carter? I think you’re about to be my new best friend.’

      The Runaway Groom was starting to look a whole lot more interesting.

       CHAPTER THREE

      WILL WAS STARTING to freak.

      What had started as a bit of flirting and curiosity was turning into something closely related to the things he normally fled from.

      It didn’t matter that this was someone else’s wedding. Weddings were the last thing he wanted to get involved in.

      Except, he’d said that before. Four times exactly.

      And he always meant it. Right up until he met the next girl—the next love of his life—and things went spectacularly. The romance, the love, the inevitable engagement, the press and then the plans started.

      Everything always started swimmingly. Beautiful, fairy-tale venues. Wonderful menus. Great bands.

      Then, things started to get uncomfortable. Fights about meaningless crap. Colours, ties or cravats, kilts or suits. Sisters and mothers-in-law interfering in he didn’t even know what.

      Arguments about wedding vows, dresses—spectacular scenes about dresses having to be ordered eighteen months in advance and not arriving in time. Ridiculous costs for ‘favours’—things that no one even cared about and everyone left lying on the dinner tables anyway.

      Tantrums over cakes. Tantrums over cars.

      And love dying somewhere along the process. But it wasn’t the wedding process that really did it for him. It was that feeling of for ever. That idea of being with one person for the rest of your life. Whenever his bride-to-be had started talking about wedding vows Will always felt an overwhelming sense of panic. And all of a sudden he wasn’t so sure.

      It didn’t help that he knew his friend Arral’s wife had walked out and left Arral when he’d lost his job. It had all contributed to Arral sinking into depression and ending up homeless. For better or worse. Someone to grow old with. The theory was great. But what if when the chips were down his potential bride-to-be decided she didn’t want for ever any more?

      He didn’t really understand why, but as the wedding date drew nearer Will always had a massive case of cold feet. Actually, it wasn’t cold feet. More like being encompassed by the iceberg that had sunk the Titanic.

      The trouble with being a nice guy was that it was hard to realise when exactly to back out. Once, he’d got right to the main event, but had backed out in spectacular fashion, earning him the