Lexie’s luck ran out the moment the Sea Hopper landed in Seattle. She’d asked Marie to pick her up at the Lake Union dock, but that had been just one more mistake added to the heap in her growing pile. Lexie didn’t want to involve her friend more than necessary. These days Marie was an upright citizen who taught first grade at the respectable Waldorf School. The last thing she needed was to be seen on the five o’clock news driving a getaway car. She’d gotten away with it the first time. Twice was pushing her luck.

If Lexie’s dad was in town, he would have met her with a couple of hockey players to run interference and body-check a few reporters into the drink. Someone had leaked the information that the runaway Gettin’ Hitched bride had jumped aboard the flying tree frog, had hopped out of town, and was now hopping back in. Lexie suspected Jimmy. The fact that he hadn’t mentioned the scene that waited for her during the flight to Seattle put him at the top of the list. Plus he had the most to gain by the free publicity and sudden notoriety. Not that she could blame him—much. She’d done the same thing for her business. And she couldn’t really yell at him for being a traitor since he’d helped her out big-time. If he was the one who’d talked, she figured they were even now.

Halfway up the dock, she noticed the media rushing toward her from the floating veranda next to the check-in office. Earlier, she’d stepped in a muddy hole in her boots and had to take off at a full sprint in her Louboutins. She barely made it to the parking lot and Marie’s MINI Cooper before being swarmed. As they sped away, dodging reporters and paparazzi, Marie glanced at Lexie from the corners of her eyes. “What the heck are you wearing?” she asked as they darted into the noon rush on Fairview.

Lexie looked down at her sparkly Louboutins, yoga pants, and Sean’s brown plaid shirt. Since he hadn’t shown up to board the Sea Hopper, she supposed it belonged to her now. But Sean was the last person she wanted to discuss with Marie or anyone. “I stepped in a freezing cold puddle and my boots—”

“No,” Marie interrupted. “That thing on your head.”

“Oh.” She pulled off her fish hat and set it in her lap. “Jimmy bought it so no one would recognize me.”

“Jimmy? The king of bad taste?” Marie looked in the rearview mirror and switched lanes. “I hate to point out the obvious, but nothing says Look at me like a woman with a fish stuck through her head.”

Sean had pretty much said the same thing. Lexie put a hand on the dash to steady herself and ran her fingers through her tangled hair with the other. Outside of her family, only five people knew she’d been hiding out in Sandspit, British Columbia. Out of those five, she’d thought she only had to worry about Geraldine Brown. Obviously she’d overestimated Jimmy’s loyalty. “I’m so tired,” she said through a yawn.

“Being a fugitive from the hitchin’ posse is exhausting,” Marie said as she dodged in and out of traffic as if they were actual fugitives running from the law.

That and staying up late and having sex with a man she’d known for two days. She figured she’d had about four hours of sleep before the sun had sliced through a part in the curtains and cut across the empty pillow next to hers. She’d managed a few hours of sleep on the Sea Hopper but woke feeling even more exhausted.

She didn’t know if Sean had:

1. Stayed behind at his mother’s.
2. Slipped and fallen.
3. Been abducted by aliens.

All she knew for sure was that he’d kissed her hair and told her he’d pick her up and drive them to the wharf. He’d never shown, and the only thing Jimmy said was that Sean wouldn’t be flying to Seattle with them. She hadn’t asked Jimmy any questions, fearing Jimmy might ask her questions that she didn’t want to answer. “I’m going to sleep until next week.” In the end, Sean’s reasons didn’t matter:

1. He didn’t owe her anything.
2. She didn’t care.

Still . . . there was a little irrational part of her that would have liked to see him again. Maybe have dinner and show him she wasn’t a crazy person. Maybe impress him with her real life. She could take him to a hockey game and to meet her dad afterward. She’d been under the impression that he didn’t have a favorable view of her father, but every man she’d introduced to her dad had loved meeting John “The Wall” Kowalsky.

“I think you ran even faster than last time in those shoes. I thought the KIRO reporter and her cameraman were going to tackle you, for sure,” Marie said.

Lexie thought so, too, and had practically felt their breath on the back of her neck. She turned and looked out the back window. “I don’t see anyone following us now. I think we lost them, Thelma.”

“You’re Thelma. I’m Louise.”

For as long as they’d been friends, they’d had an ongoing argument over which character resembled them most in BFF movies. Everyone knew that Thelma got to do Brad Pitt in a dumpy hotel in Oklahoma. Wow. She really was Thelma today. She’d had sex with a man who was a virtual stranger. Sean had vanished like Brad Pitt, too. Of course, Sean hadn’t stolen her money or anything else.

“You know I’m saving myself for Chris Pine,” Marie said as she merged onto I–5.

Then Marie would have loved Sean Brown, Lexie thought as her friend sandwiched the MINI Cooper between an Amazon Prime semi and an ARCO tanker truck. “Your driving is giving me anxiety, Louise.”

“Do you want me to let you out on the side of the interstate? I’m sure someone will pick you up sooner or later.” Marie glanced at her, then back at the road. “Maybe not with that hair, though.”

A scowl pulled at Lexie’s brows and she folded her arms beneath her breasts. “Funny. Just take me to my apartment.”

“You can’t go back to your apartment. I’m sure it’s surrounded by now.” Then Marie said the dreaded inevitable. “You have to go to your parents’.”

It made sense. Her parents lived in a gated neighborhood on Mercer Island. She had no choice, but she hated the idea of running home, and she wasn’t looking forward to the interrogation that waited for her when she stepped foot inside.

Lucky for her, when she walked inside her parents’ house, no human was there to greet her. “Where’s my baby?” she called out. She heard yips from the vicinity of her parents’ room, then Yum Yum rounded the corner wearing a cable knit hoodie from the Erin-Go-Aw sweater collection. As always when she saw her dog, her heart turned mushy. “There you are!” She kicked off her shoes, sank to her knees, and scooped up the hairless dog. “Mommy missed you.” Yum Yum’s body shook with excitement and her black tongue darted out and licked Lexie’s face. “Have you been a good girl?” she asked as she rose to her feet and headed down the hall.

Lexie knew her dad was in Pittsburgh, and she figured her mother was at work at her television studio in Tacoma. Her younger brother, Jon Jon, was probably at school. Like a convict with a get-out-of-jail-free card, she felt a slight reprieve from the disappointment she would surely see in her mother’s eyes. With her dog cradled in her arms, she walked into her old bedroom, now converted into a gift-wrap center filled with bright paper and shiny ribbon. Beside the door, she found her purse and the suitcases she’d left at the Fairmont.

Just last week she’d packed for her honeymoon in Acapulco. With one hand, she opened the biggest suitcase and dug past her baby doll chemise inside. She pushed aside her Mrs. Dalton silk robe and pulled out a clean pair of panties and matching bra. “You need a mud bath.” Her nose wrinkled and she set Yum Yum inside the open luggage. Like all hairless dogs, Yum Yum tended to smell like old corn chips if not given regular mud baths with mineral conditioners to clean and hydrate her skin.

In anticipation of her tropical honeymoon, she’d packed sundresses, bikinis, and shorts. She pulled out her blue dress and didn’t want to think about where she’d be at that exact moment if she hadn’t called off the wedding. She didn’t want to think of the people she’d hurt, especially Pete. He didn’t deserve the humiliation of getting left at the altar on national TV.

In the bottom of her purse, she found her phone. It still had half a charge, and she’d rather poke out an eye than make the call, but it was the right thing to do because she needed to:

1. Take responsibility.
2. Stop running.
3. Make amends to those she’d hurt.

Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as the phone rang.

“Lexie?”

“Hi, Pete.” Uncomfortable silence filled her ear, stretching until she said, “I’m sorry.”

“What happened?”

“I thought you should marry someone who’s in love with you.” Again silence. “I never wanted to hurt you. I just didn’t know how else to stop it.”

“You could have said something.” His voice grew tight with anger. “Instead of running out on me.” He had a right to his anger, but marrying him would have been wrong for both of them.

“I know. I feel really bad. Saying I’m sorry doesn’t make up for it.”

“You’re right.”

“We don’t really even know each other,” she reasoned. “We can’t possibly be in love, at least not the kind that sustains a marriage for any length of time. We were just caught up in the excitement of the show. I hope we can both move on from this.” She blew out a breath as more silence stretched between them. “Maybe something positive can come from the experience. Maybe in time—”

“I got a two-hour special show out of it,” he interrupted.

“Wow.” Now it was her turn for silence.

“I’m in Acapulco taping it right now.”

“You went to Acapulco anyway?”

“Yeah. The beach is awesome.”

Seriously? She’d been in Sandspit and he’d been soaking up the sun?

“I’m on camera more than in Gettin’ Hitched. So, that’s cool.”

“What kind of show are you taping?”

“I think they’re going to call it Hitchin’ Heartbreak. I walk around looking sad and meet single women who try and comfort me.” He laughed. “This time I picked the women in the cast so I could make sure they’re all hot.”

“Well . . .” She couldn’t absorb it all. “I just called to apologize.”

“It worked out, I guess.”

“So . . . you’re not hurt?”

“I’m still a little pissed off that you ran out on me, but I guess you saved us from divorce. We don’t love each other.”

He was going to marry her even though he didn’t love her, but she wasn’t in a position to judge.

“It turned out okay in the end.”

For him. He was in Acapulco, lounging on the beach and being served umbrella drinks by women fighting over him. She was stuck in her parents’ house.

“I’m surrounded by only hot women. No corn teeth this time.”

No matter her feelings for Summer at the moment, the girl had fallen for Pete and deserved better than to be called “corn teeth.” That was just mean. A mean side of Pete Lexie’d never experienced, and she was relieved beyond measure that she hadn’t gone through with the wedding. “So . . . are we cool?”

Another long silence and then, “Yeah. We’re cool.”

When Lexie disconnected, her heart felt lighter and she headed for her parents’ bathroom. The worst was out of the way. She’d probably have to talk to the producers at some point, but she’d dreaded the conversation with Pete the most.

Yum Yum followed at her heels, then curled up on Sean Brown’s shirt as Lexie quickly undressed and jumped into the big shower. She washed the smell of the Sandspit ocean from her hair and skin. Twelve jets of warm water worked tired knots from her back and she felt like she finally let out the tight breath she’d been holding since she’d run from the Fairmont.

Pete didn’t seem upset or even mad now. Well, maybe a little mad, but that had more to do with ego than Hitchin’ Heartbreak.

When she was through, she wrapped a towel around her wet hair and pulled on her own clothes. She felt squeaky clean and headed for the kitchen. Her mother was a gourmet cook and at one time had a catering business with Aunt Mae. She’d taught all her children how to cook everything from beef Wellington to Crock-Pot stew. Lexie sometimes liked to make complicated meals, but her all-time favorite comfort food was chicken quesadillas.

From the Sub-Zero refrigerator, she pulled out everything she needed. Yum Yum sat at her bare feet as she heated oil and grated cheese. She’d cooked more in the past three days than she had in the past three months. Sean had seemed to enjoy her cooking. Geraldine had given modest approval while cleaning her plate. As she sliced baked chicken, she thought about Sean and how little she actually knew of him:

1. He lived in Seattle.
2. His mother lived in Sandspit.
3. He had a secret job.
   1. a. Probably with the government.
4. Handsome.
5. Smiled and she’d thought “holy crap.”
6. Teasing, soul kisses.

Kisses that had made her throw caution to the wind and invite him into her room. An impulse she hadn’t acted on since her sophomore year of college, but standing beneath that weak pool of light at the Harbor Inn, it hadn’t seemed impulsive. His green eyes had looked down into hers like she was the only woman on the planet. His strong arms were the only things keeping her safe from the madness she’d created. His strong hands pinned her in place as his mouth gave her something to think about besides the looming tempest. Lexie had always been attracted to strong men. Men who didn’t ask permission before taking her breath away. Men with knowing eyes and experienced hands.

As Lexie cooked, she figured it was probably best that he’d disappeared, even though he’d told her he’d be back to drive them to the harbor. No uncomfortable good-byes, or awkward lies about keeping in touch.

Still . . . there was a tiny part of her that wouldn’t mind seeing him again. The part that disregarded Sunday school lessons about sin and evil temptation. The completely female part that wanted him to desperately want to see her again.

The little dog sitting on her feet yipped a few times and Lexie fed her a few bites of chicken before carrying her quesadilla and a bottle of water to her parents’ room. She sat cross-legged in the middle of their bed with her dog lying beside her leg. A suspicious hollow, the perfect size of one little dog, created a dip in her dad’s pillow.

“Did you do that?” she asked, and pointed. “Papa doesn’t like you to sleep on his pillow.”

In response, Yum Yum lifted her head to rest on Lexie’s thigh, unapologetic and waiting to be fed.

“We won’t tell him.” Lexie took a bite of the crispy flour tortilla, then dug pieces of chicken from melted cheeses. “You’re such a little love muffin.” She was clean and safe in her childhood home and had her dog by her side. The tension from the past two days eased from the back of her neck and shoulders and she completely relaxed for the first time since she’d received a callback from Gettin’ Hitched.

She took an unladylike bite and turned on her dad’s big TV. The news and talk shows would have to cancel their runaway-bride contests now that she was in Seattle. No one would win a free vacation to Cancun or Disney World. Geraldine’s dream of visiting Cinderella’s Castle was crushed.

After her last bite, she set the plate on a nightstand and curled up next to her dog. Her fingers combed through the fine tuft on top of Yum Yum’s head as she pointed the remote at the screen and navigated to the Internet. She Googled her name, and sites like TMZ, Gawker, and PopSugar came up first. None of them had anything nice to say about her, and she clicked on a link to YouTube. Immediately, the image of her running down the docks a few hours ago popped up first. Her mouth dropped open and she sucked in a breath. That was quick, she thought as the appalling scene played out on the big screen. Chaotic shouting accompanied footage of her running past reporters, her hair flying from beneath her fish hat. Her Louboutins flashed like disco balls as she sprinted to Marie’s silver MINI Cooper. On those rare occasions that Lexie did choose to run, she wore a sports bra with compression panels to keep her boobs from bouncing like in the scene on TV. As her mother had always told her and her sister, “We aren’t built to run and work up a sweat. God saved us for better things.”

When the video ended, she pulled up a clip from Gettin’ Hitched. She reached for her water bottle and lifted her head enough to take a drink. She hadn’t seen every episode yet, and clicked on the segment of her and several other girls on a sailboat. It had been shot during a group date near Catalina. The sun had been out and the wind blew through her hair like she was a fashion model. What Lexie recalled most about that day was feeling queasy and forcing herself to laugh at Pete’s dumb jokes instead of barfing over the side of the boat.

The next episode to pop up was of her and Pete on a date in the backyard of the Hitchin’ House. She’d seen this clip, and it made her feel uncomfortable the second time around. Complete with flickering candles and a dozen red roses, the date was supposed to be romantic, but with a film crew less than five feet away and a boom mic just above her head, it had been more annoying than anything.

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” Pete confessed as candlelight flickered across her face. He’d reached across the table for her hand.

“I feel the same,” she’d lied to herself and felt almost triumphant. Almost. There was one word that had kept her from a victory lap with her fists in the air. Think. Thinking he was falling in love didn’t win in a three-woman match-up.

She carefully took another drink of water and watched herself move in for a kill shot, delivered so skillfully he never felt it. Flirting as well as charm ran through her blood, inherited from her mama’s side. On the fifty-five-inch screen, Lexie looked down as if overcome by Pete’s declaration. When she raised her gaze to his once more, she kept her eyelids at half-mast, as if she was overcome with desire, too. “It scares me how much I’m growing to love you.” Her thumb brushed his wrist beneath the cuff of his sleeve and she tilted her face to the side in complete surrender. “You have the power to make me blissfully happy or break my heart.” Then she licked one corner of her mouth and almost smiled when his pulse picked up and he swallowed hard. In that moment, she’d known she’d survive another week.

Lexie watched several more clips and felt like the shittiest person on the planet. Instead of lying, she should have done something to get herself kicked off. Like Desiree from Jersey, who’d crashed Pete and Tonya’s date wearing booty shorts and a bikini top and had monopolized the conversation. But Lexie was inherently competitive and had never been a graceful loser. She’d joined the cast for greater business exposure, and her plan had exceeded expectation. Still . . . it was wrong of her to work her charms and calculated flirtations on Pete. She should have let Summer win. Summer was a really sweet girl and she’d actually loved Pete. Lexie wasn’t sure how a person truly fell in love with such limited contact, but she didn’t doubt Summer’s sincerity.

The video continued to the elimination ceremony and Summer getting the pink bootin’ pin. The heartbreak in her cornflower-blue eyes filling with tears and her trembling lip made Lexie feel even shittier.

Summer’s last interview rolled next. Her face red and blotchy from crying, she said, “Lexie should have gone home. Not me! She doesn’t deserve Pete. It’s not fair!” That stung, but Lexie couldn’t get mad because she agreed. “She’s a spoiled brat and has everything handed to her.” That wasn’t true, but she supposed Summer was just venting. “Everyone in the house hates her. We call her Lex Luthor because she’s evil.”

Lexie’s hand stilled in Yum Yum’s tuft. “Hey now.”

“I hope Jenny wins. Lexie Kowalsky is a stuck-up—beep.” The network cut off her last word.

“I gave you my Benefits mascara!” Lexie sat up as if she’d been pulled by her hair. “When the other girls made fun of your ‘corn teeth,’ I didn’t shit-talk about you at all! I felt bad and handed you my whitening strips.” Lexie pointed the remote at the television. “You’re a backstabber, Summer from Bell Buckle, Tennessee.” She turned the television off, because she didn’t want to hear what the other girls said about her. If Summer called her a bitch, the others would say worse, and she felt beat up enough for one day.

She put her water on the nightstand and curled up with her dog. Her life was a mess, but she’d survived messes before. She’d always been able to talk or charm or work her way out of messes and turn them around. Sure, this mess seemed colossal because it was colossal, but Pete wasn’t mad any longer. That was a point in her favor. She’d recover and twist this mess to her advantage.

“There hasn’t been an online sale for five days.”

Those words still echoed in Lexie’s mind, and they had the same impact today as they had yesterday when she’d been lounging in her parents’ bed and had taken a call from her business manager, Lucy Broderick. “Three hundred and seventy returns since Thursday. Anger is the dominant sentiment in the customer comment box.” While Lexie’s head had spun, Lucy added, “The only things coming via contact e-mails are rants, marriage proposals, and a few random telephone numbers.”

The second day after her return, Lexie sat on the empty KING 5 news set and adjusted the microphone clipped to the collar of her black suit. Her hair slicked back in a simple twist, she looked like a modest businesswoman. Not the scandalous runaway Gettin’ Hitched bride or the woman in a fish hat, running up the dock, shoes flashing, boobs bouncing. Or, as her dad said when he’d seen the footage, “Two cats fighting to get out of a burlap bag.” Both her entertainment lawyer and business manager had suggested an interview to help turn her image around. The sooner, the better.

“Ready in five . . .” the manager said in her earpiece. The light on the camera in front of her turned green and Savannah Guthrie spoke into her ear, “Since last Wednesday, fans of the reality show Gettin’ Hitched have gone wild with speculations concerning our next guest. Joining us live from our affiliate in Seattle, KING 5, is the runaway bride herself, Lexie Kowalsky. Good morning, Lexie. I’m glad you agreed to be with us this morning.”

“Good morning, Savannah.” Lexie looked into the camera and kept her face without expression. Neither happy nor guilty, as her lawyer suggested. “It’s nice to be with you.”

“I think the first question on everyone’s mind is where did you go when you ran from the Fairmont?”

“A friend flew me to a small town in British Columbia.”

“What small town is that?”

Lexie couldn’t see Savannah but kept her eyes directed into the camera. “Sandspit.”

“Sand what?”

Exactly. “It’s on Moresby Island in the Hecate Strait.”

“That certainly sounds isolated. Was this planned in advance?”

“Planned?” That was a new one. “No. Not at all. I had every intention of marrying Pete when I walked into the Fairmont that day.”

“Then what happened? Why did you run out on him?”

“The easy answer is that I panicked.” She looked down modestly at her hands. “Everything was happening so fast and I couldn’t think straight.” She looked back up and managed a little tear in her right eye. “I had to go away by myself so I could get my head together.” That was a bit of a fudge. She’d had to go away but she had yet to get her head together. “I didn’t want to marry Pete for the wrong reasons. I didn’t want to make a mockery of marriage.” She paused and swallowed hard. “I want all the fans of the show to know how truly sorry I am for disappointing them. I didn’t want to disappoint anyone. I just got caught up in the excitement of it all.” She shook her head and looked down at her lap again. “I wanted to take my vows seriously. That night, I realized I didn’t love Pete like he deserves to be loved.” She looked back up and was pleased with the tear caught on her bottom lashes. “Both he and I deserve a deep love that lasts forever. Not just until the cameras stop rolling.” She took a breath and added, “Neither Pete nor I feel that kind of love for each other.”

“Let’s ask Pete. We’ve got him on a live feed from Acapulco.”

Alarm bells rang in her head and sucked the tear back in her eye. When they’d negotiated this interview, NBC hadn’t mentioned anything about Pete.

“Good morning, Pete. You look like you’ve been relaxing in the sun. How are you feeling?”

“I’ve been trying to relax and regroup. Trying to get my legs back beneath me.”

“You’ve been listening to Lexie. What are your thoughts on what she had to say?”

“It hurts. I thought Lexie and I did have the kind of love that lasts forever. At least I felt that about her.”

Wait, that’s not what he’d said the other day.

“I’m supposed to be on my honeymoon with the woman I love, but I’m here alone.”

Lexie stared into the camera and tried not to react. He’d said everything was okay between them! And he sure wasn’t there alone. He was with “hot” women he’d handpicked to comfort him. She knew he was just pretending to be sad in order to hype his own new reality show.

“I fell hard for Lexie and she ripped my heart out.”

The backs of Lexie’s eyes stung with real tears this time, and she clasped her hands together in her lap to keep them from shaking. Was he really going to crucify her?

“I don’t know if I will ever be able to give my heart to a woman again. It hurts too much.”

Like appearing on Gettin’ Hitched in the first place, she’d agreed to this interview in an effort to help her business. The business she’d worked so hard to turn from a dream to a success. A dream Pete held at knife’s point. “When we talked on the phone, I told you that I’m sorry. I thought you understood.”

“Just a minute,” Savannah cut in. “The two of you have spoken to each other recently?”

“Yes,” Lexie answered. The public had cast them into the roles of victim and villain. She couldn’t play the first and needed to dispel the second. She had to avoid the slightest appearance of hitting back at Pete while inching public opinion toward the center. “I called Pete to tell him how sorry I am and that I never meant to hurt him. He said things are cool between us.”

“What do you say to that, Pete? Are things cool?”

He could save her. All he had to do was tell the truth. He could take the opportunity to promote his new show at the same time. “I don’t recall telling her we were cool. All I know is that the woman I love humiliated me on national television.”

“I’m sorry,” she said just as Pete continued to plunge the knife deeper into her business and kill her dream.

“I don’t know if I will ever trust a woman again. Lexie ruined my life.”

A fat tear slipped from the corner of Lexie’s eye and ran down the side of her cheek. It was over. Her business was gone and she would be the villain forever. “I don’t know what to say.”

Savannah spoke into Lexie’s earpiece, but the words were drowned out by the buzzing in her brain. The light on the camera blinked off, and the stage manager stepped forward to take the microphone from Lexie’s lapel. She felt numb and ready to implode at the same time.

Instead of returning to her parents’, she drove her hybrid to her condo in Belltown. She’d pick up Yum Yum later, but for now, she wanted to curl up in her own bed and pull the covers over her head. The business she’d poured her heart and soul into was over.

Yum Yum’s Closet had started as a simple blog she’d written from her dog’s point of view and had grown into a thriving Internet retail business.

The logical next step was to open her first brick-and-mortar store. She’d leased the perfect space in Bellevue and had hired a general contractor to make the renovations. She was supposed to meet with the interior designer next week to pick out wallpaper and open the last week in February. She’d wanted to open on Valentine’s Day, but the pink circle banquette wouldn’t arrive until the twenty-fourth.

She’d gone on the Today show in a last-bid effort to save Yum Yum’s Closet and perhaps redeem herself. Neither of those things would happen now. She would forever be cast as a reality show villain. Like Spencer Pratt and Courtney Robertson. Even if she could redeem herself, it wouldn’t happen in time to save Yum Yum’s Closet. She had ten full- and part-time employees, and that number didn’t include her Web designer or the people who worked for the small-batch manufacturer.

It took her a few short minutes to reach her apartment building. The sidewalk outside was reporter-free, and she easily drove through the gates of her parking garage and pulled to a stop in her designated slot.

In a fog of pain, she rode the elevator to the top floor. The doors opened into a condo surrounded with ten-foot panes of glass, insulated to keep the weather out while letting in the sluggish sunlight to spill across lush white rug and gleaming parquet floors. She stepped out of her sensible pumps and left a trail of clothing on the way to her bedroom. She hit a button just inside the room, and shades lowered from the ceiling to cover the windows. By degrees, the room was pitched into varying shades of deeper gray, and Lexie crawled into her bed and pulled the chintz comforter to her chin. She stayed there all day and only emerged from bed when her dad brought Yum Yum to her later that night.

“Here’s your worthless dog,” he said as she finished tying the belt of her terry-cloth robe. The dog gave him a big lick across his lips. “Jesus!”

“She loves Papa.”

“I’m not her papa.”

After a brief conversation about what a “tool” Pete was, and the pros and cons of Chinook enforcer Kevin “KO” Olsen meeting Pete after his return from Acapulco, Lexie took her dog and headed back to bed. She couldn’t help but replay the last few days in her head. She’d made one bad decision after another. She’d hurled herself and her business into a total free fall. This morning, she’d landed with a big splat on national television.

So much had happened since the night she’d run from the Fairmont, it seemed like five weeks had passed instead of just five days. It had only been five days since she’d jumped aboard the Sea Hopper and stared up into Sean Brown’s dark face and the question in his green eyes. Two days since she’d pulled him into a small hotel room and stripped naked. Just two days since she’d sworn like a porn star/hockey player during unforgettable sex. Two nights later, her cheeks burned with the memory.

There was one thing that made her feel the tiniest bit better, and that was she wouldn’t ever have to see Sean Brown again. A few days ago she’d thought it might be nice to see him and show him the real Lexie. Well, the real Lexie had sunk to the lowest point in her life. She had little hope that things would get better, and the last thing she needed was further humiliation.

To her shock, the next afternoon Lucy Broderick called and threw her an unexpected lifeline. Her appearance on the Today show hadn’t been a total disaster after all. The response had been the opposite of what Lexie had feared—she’d somehow managed to appear sympathetic, while Pete’s attack had come off as bullying. The fake and real tears she’d shed had made her seem vulnerable and despondent, filled with agonizing remorse for what she’d done to Pete and the fans of Gettin’ Hitched. Pete had sounded belligerent to the very end. Viewer opinion was shifting against him.

Lexie knew she should feel bad, but she didn’t feel the least bit sorry for Pete. He’d done it to himself.

Three days after the Today show, the tide was definitely turning in her favor. She did a short call-in interview with Extra and was scheduled to tell her side of the story for Us magazine next week.

The world didn’t hate her. Even Gawker and PopSugar seemed to be finished crucifying her. Her business wasn’t totally dead after all. Yum Yum’s Closet had been resuscitated and put back on life support. With hard work, she expected it to make a full recovery.

That was until the moment Marie walked into her apartment and slapped the National Enquirer on the table between them. Lexie drank a sip of coffee and moved aside her plate of cantaloupe and a bagel. “What’s this?” She slid the paper to her and choked. Hot coffee slid down the wrong pipe and her heart stopped.

“Wha—wha?” she wheezed. On the front cover was the headline: Hitchin’ Bride Jilts Groom for Mystery Man. A picture of her pinned up against the door of room seven at the Harbor Inn took up the entire page. The quality was a bit grainy, but even if she hadn’t known it was she, even if she hadn’t lived it, even if her eyes weren’t blurry from hacking, she was clearly recognizable.

“Who is that?” Marie asked.

Lexie cleared her throat and coughed a few more times, unable to take her eyes from the picture of her pushed up against a hotel door. While her face was clearly visible, Sean’s back was to the camera. The only visible parts of him were his hands, wrapped around her wrists and pinning them above her head. “Sean,” she choked out. The man with beautiful green eyes and dark hair, who’d felt like the only steady thing in an upside-down world. The man whose kiss made her warm up from the inside out and throw caution to the wind—along with her clothing.

“Sean who?”

“Brown.” At least that was his mother’s last name. She didn’t know for sure, but decided not to confide in her friend, who was acting a little judgmental.

“You look like you were either kidnapped or about to jump this guy’s bones.”

Lexie cleared her throat once more. “You know I wasn’t kidnapped.”

“So you hooked up with some random Canadian?”

“It wasn’t like that.” She looked across the table at her friend, who trolled Tinder. “He was on the plane with me. I was scared and freaked. He took my mind off everything for a while.”

“It looks bad.”

“I know!”

After Marie left, she checked the online gossip sites. They all had the same picture of her. The caption at TMZ read: Runaway Bride or Seductress?

“It wasn’t like that,” she told her mother that evening. “I helped him take care of his sick mother while we were in Sandspit. I didn’t seduce anyone!”

Georgeanne looked across the couch from her and said, “I’m sorry about his mother, but I just really care about you.” She shook her head, and her dark hair slid across one shoulder to the front of her red silk blouse. “Cryin’ all night, Lexie. I can’t believe it. This just keeps getting worse.”

“I know. Someone leaked my phone number.” She blinked back the tears stinging her eyes, hating the disappointment in her mother’s face. “I had to turn it off for a while. I really can’t change the number until I notify all my business contacts.” Thank God she still had her prepaid phone from Sandspit.

Georgeanne took several deep breaths and said on a sigh, “You’re a grown woman. I’m not going to ask you what went on in that hotel room. Although your father might when he gets back from his five-day grind.”

Lexie closed her eyes. After a five-day grind, her dad was probably going to be cranky.

She was right.

The next night, her father stood in her open kitchen, watching the television above the fireplace in the living room. E! News flashed the now infamous picture onto the screen and Jason Kennedy asked, “Who is the mysterious man with runaway bride Lexie Kowalsky? The world wants to know: Is this a photo of force or fling?”

“This is crazy.” She opened a bottle of her father’s favorite beer, then reached for the remote control on the counter. She punched the red button three times before the television went black. And yeah, she fudged a bit when she said, “I helped take care of his terminally ill mother.”

“That isn’t what it looks like in that picture.” A scowl pulled at his dark brows as he raised the Molson 67 to his lips. He took several long pulls, then lowered the bottle. “That guy”—he paused to point his bottle at the television where the infamous photo had splashed across the blank screen just moments before—“might be blurry as hell and unrecognizable, but his intentions are real clear. He’s either forcing you into that hotel room or he’s seducing his way in.”

The seducing had been mutual, and she shook her head.

“They’re talking about it everywhere. I saw it on TV in a sports bar in Detroit.”

This new story was getting even bigger and more devastating than the original.

“If you really weren’t being held against your will, I can’t exactly hunt this son of a bitch down and feed him my fist.” He set the bottle on the counter and folded his arms across his chest. Not a good sign. “You have some accountability in this mess.”

“My head hasn’t been right since I went on Gettin’ Hitched.” She wanted to show him she was a strong woman and not a child he had to protect. She clenched her jaw to keep her chin from trembling, but a tear spilled from her bottom lash. “I take full accountability for the mess I’ve made of my life and the pain I’ve caused everyone. Especially my family.” She hated the disappointment creeping into his eyes. “I was confused and scared. He seemed like a good person. I thought I could trust him.”

He dropped his hands. “Don’t cry.”

“Okay.”

“Christ.” He reached for her and wrapped her in his big arms. “Not all men can be trusted, honey.” She rested her head on the one place she’d always felt protected, his shoulder. “Some sons of bitches have little balls and have to coerce vulnerable women just to get some attention.”

Sean didn’t have little balls, and he hadn’t exactly coerced her, but she didn’t bother to correct her father. She nodded, relaxing in the warm solace she always found with her dad.

“The guy needs his ass handed to him for taking advantage of you.”

She nodded again, because what did it matter? She didn’t know Sean. He was a guy she met who probably worked for the CIA. More than ever, she was relieved that she would never see Sean Brown again.

A raucous wave of cheers and cowbells rolled through the Key Arena as “Who Let the Dogs Out” blasted from the speakers. High above the center of the ring, the jumbotron’s three screens replayed a blistering one-timer off an Avalanche’s blade and into the left pad of Chinooks goalie Adam Larson.

It had been a while since Lexie had donned her Chinooks jersey and stepped foot into the Key. Even longer since she’d sat in the ticketed seats. “I think we might be more comfortable at the Encore,” she said, and gazed longingly up to the secluded club on the third tier.

“We’re not hiding up there. Remember?” her mother reminded her through a smile. “We have nothing to hide.”

She knew her mother was right. They’d debated it and determined that the only way to keep from going into hiding again was to act as if she had nothing to conceal. Once the cameraman spotted them, she had little doubt her face would flash across all four screens on the jumbotron and be beamed out on television.

She’d taken care to appear modest in a gray turtleneck, team jersey, and gray jeans. She’d pulled her hair back in a ponytail and wore minimal cosmetics. She walked a fine line between flaunting herself and appearing guilty. Once the Enquirer photo appeared, the good feelings that came out of her Today show appearance went down the tubes. She’d gone from sympathetic to villain in no time flat. No amount of apologizing was going to help her out this time, and she couldn’t count on another miracle to save her behind. She was seen as a cheater and was back to playing a villainess, only worse. She was now the lowest of lows, the bottom rung, in reality television:

1. Slut.
2. Bitch.
3. Psycho.
4. Slutty bitch psycho.

Lexie took an aisle seat next to her mother and little brother, Jon Jon, in the lower bowl. Her brother took after their dad in looks and temperament. He was protective and ready to do battle for his big sister, which added to Lexie’s guilt. It was supposed to be the other way around. She should be looking out for him, but she felt like a coward and had to fight a strong urge to sink down in her seat and shield the side of her face with her hand. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly to keep from hyperventilating, but there was nothing she could do about the sick knot in her stomach.

As a kid, Lexie had loved sitting in the front row just behind the glass. She’d loved the raw energy arcing through the crowd. She’d loved the grunts and thumps and the shhh-shhh of skates meshing with cheers and screaming fans. She forced herself to raise her chin and gaze out onto the ice.

“That’s the new guy Dad complains about,” Jon Jon told her as the puck passed from stick to stick. All she could see was the back of a jersey and short sweaty curls beneath his helmet. “I like him though.”

Lexie had more important things to worry about than the Chinooks’ newest superstar. Like appearing calm, cool, and collected when what she really wanted was to run away before someone in the control booth recognized her and flashed her face on the jumbotron.

With a hard thwack, the puck shot around the boards and was stopped in the corner seconds before players from both sides slammed into each other and shook the Plexiglas. Elbows flew, and thuds and grunts punctuated the air as they all dug for the puck.

A boom and vibration she could feel beneath her feet, and the number 36 flattened against the Plexiglas. “KNOX” was sewn across his shoulders, and his helmet fell off in the scrum.

“You wanna have a go?” one of them asked.

“On your mother, you tit baby.” Thirty-six threw a fist and his big blue glove connected, knocking the player off his skates.

Lexie drummed her fingers on the armrest. Mothers and sisters and tit babies were all fair insults with hockey players.

Whistles blew and two referees entered the fray. They pointed to the biggest offenders, and Lexie leaned forward to look down the boards to where her father stood with his arms folded across his blue blazer. She couldn’t see his face, but by his stance, he wasn’t happy.

From the other side of the glass she heard, “You’re a pussy, Kuch. Go back to the minors with the other girls.”

Her brows creased and she returned her attention to number 36. He shoved one glove beneath his arm, then bent forward and disappeared from her view. An odd jolt ran up her spine to the back of her neck. For a split second, she felt as if she’d stepped into an alternate universe where she recognized something that she couldn’t possibly know. That split second hung in the air, confusing and bizarre.

“Welcome to the Jungle” blasted through the arena and she raised her gaze to the jumbotron. Dark hair at the top of his head filled the large screens, then 36 straightened and combed his fingers through a damp lock of hair curling over his forehead like a big C.

Everything within Lexie came to a shuddering halt except the jolt shooting up her spine to the back of her skull. On the huge screens, his green eyes glanced up at the scoreboard and his oh-shit smile tugged at one corner of his mouth.

The screens cut to a loop of him throwing his big fist and the Avalanche player going down. The crowd around Lexie went wild, and the jolt at the back of her skull zapped her brain. The knot in her stomach clutched her chest. On the huge screens, number 36 calmly shoved his helmet on his head. He chewed one side of his mouth guard, and Billy Joel’s “An Innocent Man” played overhead as he calmly skated toward the penalty box.