And yet when it finally dawned on her that she’d just stripped down to her underwear, she couldn’t even dwell on the fresh round of embarrassment because a new realization had swooped into her head.
“Where am I supposed to go?” she said miserably. “Is Chris at our apartment?”
Dylan looked utterly disoriented, his green eyes moving from her nearly naked body, to the discarded wedding gown, then up to her face. “I don’t know,” he sputtered. “Look. Claire. You’re freaking out and you need to dial it down, okay?”
“Where am I supposed to go?” she repeated, raising her voice over the loud drumming of her heart. “I don’t even have a car! My parents drove. Oh shit, my parents. They’ll want to take me home. I can’t go home with them, Dylan! They’ll hover over me and my mom will stuff me with cookies because she thinks cookies are the solution for all of life’s troubles, and—”
A sharp sting on her cheek made her head jerk up.
She blinked in shock and reached up to rub away the pain. “Did you just slap me?”
Dylan’s perfectly sculpted jaw tensed. “No, I flicked you.”
“You flicked me?”
“Yes.” He moved closer and gripped both her shoulders. “Get it together, McKinley. My brother is the ass**le in this equation, okay? My mom is handling the guests, so there’s no reason for you to go out there at all. You don’t need to face your boss or coworkers, and if you’re not ready to talk to your parents, then you don’t have to. And f**k all those country club jerks from Chris’s firm. You don’t owe them any explanations. Understand?”
She nodded, feeling numb.
“But you’re right,” Dylan went on. “Chris is probably at the apartment, so maybe going back there isn’t a good idea at the moment. Unless you’re ready to get the big talk over with?”
She shook her head. Talking to Chris was definitely on her agenda, but not now. As furious as she was that he’d taken off instead of handling the situation like an adult, she couldn’t deal with him right now. Not until she got far, far away from this stupid country club and made sense of her muddled thoughts.
“I guess I can go to a hotel,” she said in a tired voice. “Can you drop me off?”
Without waiting for his response, she hurried toward the suitcase and carry-on she’d left beside the door. She and Chris had been scheduled to leave for their honeymoon immediately following the reception, so her bags were already packed and waiting.
She kept her back to Dylan, rooting around in her suitcase and pulling out the first item of clothing she found, which happened to be a bright blue sundress. She yanked the dress over her head and smoothed it down her body, not caring that you could see the white band of her bra, thanks to the dress’s backless halter style, or that the skirt was indecently short. This dress had been meant for Aruba, the first stop on their three-week honeymoon.
Except there wouldn’t be a honeymoon. Or a wedding.
“I can’t believe he just left,” she whispered.
The warm hand on her bare shoulder made her jump. “I really am sorry,” came Dylan’s husky voice.
Claire couldn’t help a derisive snort. “No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Bullshit.” For the first time since Dylan arrived to drop his bomb, hot tears stung her eyes. “You’re loving every second of this. You hate me and you probably think I had it coming, huh?”
Now he sounded irritated. “That’s not what I think at all, Claire.”
Sarcasm dripped from her voice. “Sure, Dylan, because you were dying for me to be your sister-in-law. Well, congrats, you won’t ever have to see me again after today, so just do me a favor and stuff your sorries in a sack, okay? All I want from you right now is to help me carry this stupid suitcase and drive me to a hotel.” Her lips tightened. “Do you think you can handle that, soldier?”
A muscle in his jaw twitched, his green eyes flashing with resentment, but the hard look quickly faded into resignation. With a curt nod, he picked up her suitcase and said, “I can handle that.”
Chapter Two
“Mom, I promise you, I’m okay. What? No, I swear, I left of my own free will. I just couldn’t face all those people… I know, but…maybe he was right, okay? Maybe getting married would’ve been a mistake.”
Keeping his eyes on the road, Dylan listened to Claire’s side of the conversation. Despite himself, he experienced a twinge of admiration that even in the face of Chris’s betrayal, she was still protecting him. She had every right to curse Chris until she was blue in the face. Every right to scream and throw things and burn all of his belongings in a ritualistic trashcan fire. But rather than paint Chris as the villain, she was practically defending his decision. Dylan couldn’t help but feel grudgingly impressed.
“Please tell Shanna how grateful I am that she dealt with the guests and the club manager, and tell her I’ll call her tonight, okay?”
Dylan’s shoulders stiffened at the sound of his mother’s name. He hadn’t given her the heads-up before sneaking Claire out of the mansion, and he knew she’d be furious about his desertion, especially with Chris gone too.
But what else was he supposed to do? His first priority had been to get Claire out of that country club. The woman had been seconds away from a full-blown breakdown.
His mouth went dry as the memory of Claire stripping out of her wedding dress flew into his head, and now a different part of his anatomy was stiffening. No denying it—Claire McKinley was a damn sexy woman. All that tousled auburn hair, those X-rated curves, the f**k-me red lips…the woman was designed to get a man nice and hard. To make matters worse, her big brown eyes gave her that perpetually vulnerable look that triggered a man’s hero complex, should he have one. And Dylan, unfortunately, had suffered from a serious case of hero his entire life. He’d never been able to walk away from a damsel in distress, and protecting Claire from the embarrassment and questions that awaited her in that ballroom had been instinctual.