Hit & Run Bride (Hit & Run Bride Contemporary Romance Series)

by Malone, Nana

  “Oh, my God, thank you!” She threw her arms around his neck, bringing those luscious, wet curves into full body contact. Her flippers nailed his ankles as she tried to stand on his feet.

  And then, without warning, she brushed his cheek with a kiss. “Thank you. I don’t know what to say.” She went to kiss him again, except he moved his face, and her lips, thank you, Jesus, landed on his.

  They were wet and warm, and oh, so soft. When she didn’t pull away, he lingered there, tasting, and hoping she didn’t knee him in the balls.

  Her body relaxed into his, her lips parting on a sigh. “I...uh…”

  Pull back. Huge breach of teacher-student relations. His hands were one thing, supporting her in the water, but there was no way he should have his lips anywhere on her body.

  But he didn’t push her away. No sir, Alex would have been proud. Liam wrapped his arms around Becca and kissed her again.

  She responded, pressing her breasts against his chest. And then, like a light switch, she jerked away, putting distance between them. “What am I doing?” she said, rubbing her fingers over her lips.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “That was completely unprofessional, and it will never happen again.”

  Seemingly tongue-tied, she sputtered. Cleared her throat, and tried again. “It’s not you. It’s uhm...I, uh...I got excited, and sometimes I do really stupid things when I’m excited.”

  Stupid things. Kissing him being one of them. Okay, then. Their time was nearly up. “One more time across?”

  Swimming got in a person’s blood. He’d seen it a hundred times with the kids—and adults—he’d trained. Even the smallest taste of that kind of freedom made people long for more.

  “That would be awesome.” Becca grabbed the kickboard and avoided his eyes. “I’m psyched.”

  He was too. He only had to remember to keep his hands to himself.

  Chapter Six

  She wasn’t picking a fight. And if she was, it wasn’t because she had any guilt and needed things to come to a head. Or at least, those were the lies Becca told herself. She rubbed her lips absently as she glared at Holden. “You need to make time for this conversation. Stop avoiding it. We need to discuss this.”

  Holden shifted from foot to foot. He’d come over that morning to take her on a training run. Of course, she’d not been ready, and he’d been irritated. Well, tough. It took a lot of work to get her boobs secured in a sports bra, and she wasn’t putting one on, especially since she had no intention of going for a run.

  “Becca, stop being stubborn. You have to go on this run. You’ll never make it for Kona if you don’t do some training. Sometimes I think you don’t even want to do the race.”

  That’s because I don’t. She bit her tongue. She was not going to let him sidetrack her like he had the other day when she’d tried to pin him down. Or like last night when he’d claimed exhaustion. He was stalling. It was a tactic he always employed. He wanted to wear her down so she’d eventually give in.

  But this was their wedding, and she wasn’t going to roll over and take this. “I’m not being stubborn, Holden. I need you to listen to me.”

  “How about I listen while we run? That way we kill two birds with one stone.”

  She ground her teeth. “How about you listen to me now, and we go running after?”

  He sighed, but in no way did his features read acquiescence. His shoulders were still tense, and he planted his hands on his hips. “Fine. Talk.”

  Great, now he was pissed. Whatever—they were going to talk. “I don’t want to get married in Hawaii. I want to get married at home, near Princeton.”

  “I swear, Becca, I love you to pieces, but your obstinacy is going to kill me. Kill us. I’ve already explained to you. It makes no sense to plan the wedding ourselves. It’s more practical to do the destination wedding.”

  “And I keep telling you, that I want to plan this wedding. Like every little girl before me, I’ve dreamt of planning my big day, not of handing the nuisance off to some health spa in Hawaii.”

  A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I never said it was a nuisance. Don’t put words in my mouth.”

  “Well, how am I supposed to feel when you tell me things like, ‘be practical,’ and ‘we don’t have time to do this,’ and ‘planning will get in the way of training?’” I want to do this, and I want my opinion to count in this wedding. I feel like you refuse to listen to me. I’m not a sales target to be handled. You can’t wear me down into doing what you want.”

  He paced her living room, his sneakers making a squeaking sound on her hardwood floors. She’d never realized how irritating the sound was before. “I’m not trying to wear you down. I’m trying to spend as much time as possible with you by training. Think about what I’m dealing with here. All this training and work—I can’t just fly off to New Jersey and get married, then come back and jet off to Kona.”

  He wouldn’t take a single weekend to fly to Jersey for their wedding, but she was being unreasonable? She crossed her arms. “Can I ask you something?”

  He ran his hands through his hair. “Jesus, Becca. What?”

  She frowned and said quietly, “Why do you want to marry me?”

  “Oh, come on. We’re too far along for you to be insecure now.”

  She put up a hand. “Humor me.”

  “You’re smart, talented, funny. We have all the same interests. Heck, we even work in the same field. We make a good team. And it’s the right time.”

  A team? Like he’d picked her to be in his fantasy football league or something. “You love me, right?”

  “Don’t be obtuse. Of course, I love you.”

  She lifted her chin to meet his gaze. “Except, you didn’t say it. And I don’t want to feel like I’m some accessory piece you think you need now. And to be frank, that’s what it feels like a little bit. It feels like I’m not supposed to have an opinion about any of this.”

  He threw himself back on the couch as if he knew their run was never going to happen. “You’re wrong. I want you to have an opinion. I also want you to be rational about that opinion. There’s no sense in getting emotional over this. You’ll still get to do your fluffy princess thing and flit about like the belle of the ball. And honestly, it’s only a day. We’ll be married for a lifetime.”

  She frowned. Had he said flit? Her stomach churned. She didn’t know much about fiancés and weddings, but she was pretty sure that this was not how she was supposed to feel at the prospect of forever. “If I’m not represented on that day, and my input isn’t part of it, then I won’t feel like I have any say in the rest of our lives.”

  He put up his hands. “Fine. Have it your way. Pick a weekend. We’ll get married in Princeton if that’s what you want. But I’m warning you now, I don’t have time to pick colors or flowers or any of that other shit that goes with it. You’ll be on your own.”

  Shit that goes with it? She should keep her mouth shut because she’d gotten her way. She should be happy about finally getting the wedding of her dreams.

  Except she wasn’t. She felt hollow. She felt alone.

  She didn’t want to win like this. What she wanted was for them to talk about it and for him to actually hear her out. Instead, she felt wrung out and unhappy.

  He was so handsome, his blond hair dusted onto his forehead. His green eyes crinkled a little at the corners. And his body was still...

  Not Liam.

  Oh, hell. She batted down the stray thought immediately. Liam did not belong in her thought process for this conversation. At best, he was a small crush. He was helping her after all. It was only natural to think about him, right? But she loved Holden... was marrying Holden. The two of them just needed to come back to center. “Holden, I don’t want to fight with you. I only wanted to be heard.”

  He crossed his arms and worked his jaw. “Yeah, well, you got what you wanted now. Are you happy?”

  Becca sat next to him on the couch. “Let’s not fight. Maybe we can talk more
later? I don’t want to leave things like this.”

  He didn’t meet her gaze. “If you’re done, I’m going on that run. I need to think.”

  Becca stared after him as he stormed out of her apartment. That went well. Not.

  * * *

  Only one rule to follow, don’t kiss Liam…again. How hard could that be?

  Memories of the last lesson rushed forward. His warm lips on hers, his strong arms cocooning her, making her feel safe...and tingly. No. No with the tingly. Liam was her instructor. Nothing more. She was getting married, dammit. To Holden...who she loved. Just because he was being a colossal asshat at the moment didn’t mean it was okay to crush on Liam. So not in the realm of okay.

  At least this lesson, she’d be fortified by looking the part.

  She dressed hurriedly in her racerback swimsuit, then frowned as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. With the high cut of the legs, there was no hiding her ass. Great. She sure would have liked a whole hell of a lot more coverage. It would have made her feel less like Brazilian Baywatch Barbie.

  Tossing her head upside down, she tamed her unruly curls in a bun. Once they were secured, she slipped on her swim cap.

  Standing tall, or rather as tall as she could, she studied herself closely. Serious swim student. Perfect. Because that’s what she was. Though she had considered not coming back. But she needed to learn how to do this. Even if she talked Holden out of the Ironman, he’d still want to do some swim sports and she’d get left on the beach or the side of the pool if she didn’t figure this shit out.

  She slipped off the mother of all ugly engagement rings and tucked it in its box before shoving it into her gym bag. After locking up, she grabbed a towel and headed to the pool. She could do this. She was confident. Liam was her instructor. They could go back to a professional relationship. One where she didn’t think about his tongue teasing her lips apart.

  When she got to the pool, Liam was already in the water doing laps. She watched, mesmerized, as the muscles in his back bunched and flexed. His powerful arms sluiced through the water with every stroke. And his strong legs propelled him forward with the force of a rocket. Wow. He was really good.

  She didn’t know how long she stood there watching him, but eventually, he swam back and popped his head up out of the water. He startled when he saw her. “Becca.” He licked his lips. “Hi.”

  “Hi, Liam.”

  His smile was quick. “Ready to swim?”

  She nodded. “As ready as I ever am.”

  His chuckle was as soft and as sweet as the whipped cream on her daily iced mocha. He pushed himself up out of the water and onto the ledge. “Good. Put on your flippers, and I’ll get the kickboard.”

  Okay, words were appropriate here, right? Problem was, all her brain power was focused on staring at his chest and shoulders.

  “Becca?” he asked, “Did you hear me?”

  “Yep, sorry. Flippers. On it.” Head in the game, Becca. Focus. Professional. Learn to swim. Do not fantasize about him.

  She sat on the bench and slipped on the flippers. Then she tried to walk in them. She was pretty sure she looked like a drunken penguin as she shuffle-stepped to the stairs.

  Liam stopped her. “Jump in. It’ll be safer with the flippers.”

  She licked her lips. “Uhm, jump?”

  He nodded. “Yep. You can do it. I’ll be right here.” His smile was warm, but there was no heat or hint of teasing in his gaze. Had she imagined the other day? Maybe fabricated the whole thing in her head?

  She shuffled to the edge of the pool and sat. It was only a couple of feet deep. She could hop in. Liam was here, and she was pretty sure he wouldn’t let her drown. Focus, Becca. You need to do this, so cut the bullshit.

  She closed her eyes tight and hopped in.

  The good news—she was in the water. The bad news—she made a hell of a splash and got water up her nose that resulted in some very unattractive hacking coughs. Terrific. More bad news…she literally landed on Liam. Though as bad news went, her body wasn’t entirely displeased about it.

  His arms snapped around her like a vise. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. Relax.”

  Relax. Sure. Her hands clutched his biceps tight, and she blinked up at him. It was a far too familiar position, and she immediately let go. “Yeah, thanks. I guess I need to get used to doing that.”

  “It’ll come with time. You ready to work with the kickboard again? Normally, I’d take you back to basics and start you with bubbles, but I know you want to move quickly, so we’ll start with this, okay?”

  She nodded mutely and took the kickboard from him. She was desperate for the feeling of freedom she’d experienced the other day. She wanted to shut off her brain and not deal with the steaming pile of craptastic argument she’d had with Holden. She also wanted to shut out the myriad questions she wanted to ask Liam, like, did I imagine that kiss? Did you feel that electricity too? Are you pretending, like I am, that none of it happened?

  He frowned and sighed. “Are you okay, Becca? You look tense.”

  She nodded once. “Yep, fine.”

  A crease formed on his forehead. “Look...the other night...I didn’t mean—”

  She put a hand on his chest. Then realizing what she’d done, she snatched it back, feeling the burn from the heat of his skin. “Liam, stop. I’m not...I mean, that was my fault. And we don’t have to...shit. I had a crappy day and want to pour some of my annoyance into this lesson.”

  He hesitated. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Yes. “No.” Talking to him wouldn’t help. She’d only end up thinking about how sexy he sounded. This was all Van’s fault. If she hadn’t told Becca it was perfectly normal to have a crush, Becca wouldn’t be in this predicament. “Thank you, but today, I want to swim.”

  His smile was brief. “Already in your blood, huh?”

  “A little. But don’t go signing me up for a swim meet just yet.”

  He flashed a grin, and she forgot to breathe.

  “How about we get you kicking across for now. Then we can worry about outfitting you for the Olympics.”

  “Deal.”

  With a deep breath, she launched herself forward like Liam had shown her. At first, the panic clawed at her through her chest as the water hit her chin, but she fought it. Kick the feet. Remember to breathe. It helped that Liam swam next to her. The whole length of the pool, she wasn’t alone. He was right there, never leaving her side.

  When she reached the other end and desperately reached for the ledge, he was there, helping hold her up. “How do you feel?”

  Irritated from earlier, a little aroused from having him close. Confused as hell as to why she was having these feelings for him. But the emotion drowning out all the noise of her rioting thoughts was awesome. She felt awesome. “I feel great. Can I do it again?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Back she went, for once enjoying the way the lapping water buffered out all thought. All she had to do was kick her feet and hold on tight to the board. Taking a breath and feeling brave, she even blew bubbles in the water.

  Once she was back in the shallow end, Liam helped her to a standing position. “That was great. You’re really coming along. You were nice and relaxed.”

  “I feel great, honestly. I want to do it again.”

  He laughed. “And we will. But I want to practice getting you to float on your back again.”

  Her stomach pitched. “And just when I was having a good day.”

  “You’ll be fine. I promise.”

  “Famous last words,” she mumbled.

  Liam helped her take off her flippers and deposited them with the kickboard at the edge of the pool. When he returned, she told herself to relax. Just because he was about to have his hands on her was no reason to panic...or jump his bones. This would be okay. No big deal.

  She turned and assumed the position. Liam cleared his throat behind her then said, “Remember, the key is to stay as relaxed as possible.
You can do this. You’ve already shown how badass you are kicking back and forth across this pool. Floating on your back is nothing for you.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  His hands were warm as they slid down her back. On a long exhale, Becca forced the thoughts of today out of her head and let Liam lead her into a floating position. His hands were low on her back, right above the curve of her ass, and her body tingled, but she kept breathing evenly. She didn’t want to disappoint him.

  “Why don’t you tell me about something good that happened today?” His voice was soothing and calm.

  Becca knew what he was doing. Keeping her talking so she wouldn’t think about sinking. “I can’t really think of anything.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay, tell me what the heck a Tribot is? I keep thinking about it and can’t figure it out. Hell, I even Googled it.”

  “You Googled it?” A laugh bubbled out unexpectedly, and she wobbled.

  “Easy now, I have you.”

  And he did. In that moment, she knew it. He was there for her, and nothing bad was going to happen while he was around. “Tribots are a specific type of girl. San Diego pretty. Tall, leggy, blond. They only eat organic, gluten-free, and fun-free. And they exercise like maniacs. Like more than can be good for you.”

  “What’s wrong with working out? It can be fun.”

  “Yeah, but my idea of fun is a Zumba dance class. Not running the Carlsbad Half for shits and giggles.”

  He laughed. “Fair enough. What else categorizes a Tribot?”

  “Well, she doesn’t do anything fun. And God forbid, if she catches you eating a candy bar, she practically shames you into spitting it out, and that’s just criminal.” She heard his laughter as she let her body go, completely forgetting about her discomfort. “And she complains about how she feels bloated in her size zero workout clothes.”

  “Okay, yeah, that is annoying.”

  “The worst part is, they all look at me and Van like we’re aliens. Van has the athletic body type, but she’s one of only three black people in the whole office of over a hundred employees. I swear she might kill the next person who asks if they can touch her braids.”