Bolted (Promise Harbor Wedding) - By Meg Benjamin Page 0,3

sweet nothings, given the faint smile that drifted across her lips as she whispered something back.

Josh took a breath to say something else, but the Hunkster apparently felt the same way Greta did about the whole scene. Time for it to be over. He turned and strode toward the side door of the sanctuary, Josh’s fiancée still cuddled in his arms. Mrs. Gurney, the pianist, obligingly opened the door for him—Greta figured she could kiss her wedding music fee good-bye.

The moment seemed to hang suspended in silence. Josh stared after his fiancée. Greta’s mother stared after her future daughter-in-law. Or the woman who had been her future daughter-in-law until five minutes ago. At the moment, the prospect of Allie and Josh ever getting married seemed pretty remote.

Then Josh turned and stomped after them, throwing the door wide without Mrs. Gurney’s help. Greta hurried after him, the two bouquets still clutched in her hands. Behind her the cell phone cameras clicked away, apparently recording every moment of this debacle for future reference. Greta managed to refrain from whirling back to flip off the photographers. She figured that would only make things worse.

Greta heard Josh cry “Wait,” as she opened the door.

The Hunkster turned on the sidewalk outside the church, Allie still cradled in his arms while Josh strode near them, glowering. Greta wasn’t sure she’d ever seen her brother glower before.

Josh balled his hands into fists at his sides. “What the fuck, Allie? Are you leaving with him?”

Gavin narrowed his eyes. “Allie called me last night.”

Greta blinked. Well, hell. As the matron of honor she should probably have confiscated Allie’s phone. But who knew she had that in mind? Most brides-to-be drunk-dialed the guy they wanted to yell nyah, nyah, nyah at, not the guy they wanted to have carry them up the aisle. The fact that Allie even had someone she wanted to carry her up the aisle was maybe an indication that the wedding itself wasn’t such a great idea.

Josh straightened, staring at Allie. “You did?”

Allie squeaked. She was losing perfection points by the second.

Gavin Whoever squared his already-square jaw. “She called and told me that she’d always love me.”

Oh, way to rub it in, Hunkster. Now Allie groaned, closing her eyes. Greta had the feeling a groan or two wouldn’t be enough to make her brother back off.

Josh folded his arms across his chest. “Allie? Is this true?”

There was another of those long pauses. “Well…” Allie murmured.

Josh shook his head. “Jesus Christ. Were you drunk?” He sounded like he was gritting his teeth.

“Maybe a little.”

A little? Oh, Allie was losing those perfection points right and left now.

“You called Gavin the night before our wedding and told him you’d always love him?” Josh was staring at her as if he’d never seen her before.

Allie licked her lips. “Not exactly,” she said. “I didn’t tell him to come or anything. I didn’t say that I loved him.”

“Allie. We’re getting married,” Josh said flatly. “You don’t just change your mind at the last second about something like this.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Right. Greta wasn’t a lawyer, but she had a feeling that defense wasn’t going to fly.

“That’s all I need to hear.” The Hunkster tightened his grip on Allie again, then headed down the sidewalk.

Greta pressed her lips together, watching a muscle dance in her brother’s jaw. All of a sudden she really wanted this to be over. Let it go. Just let it go. She swallowed. Even with her own hard-won cynicism about marriage, it would be tough to top the last ten minutes in terms of marriage disasters.

Behind her, she heard someone catch her breath. Great. Apparently, she hadn’t been the only one to follow them out of the church. Greta pivoted quickly—ready to tell whoever it was to go back inside and shut the hell up—and saw Devon Grant, Josh’s ex, standing a few feet away.

Only judging from the way she was looking at Josh right now, she wasn’t all that ex after all. Her dark brown eyes were wide, and she chewed on her lower lip as she watched the drama unfold in front of her.

Greta took another in a series of deep breaths. This was getting way too complicated anyway. She turned and slipped back inside the church. Let them figure it out for themselves—she was totally done.

Her mother stood in the middle of the aisle. Her lace fascinator had shifted forward over one eye and her navy taffeta was definitely showing creases. Greta figured if Mom