Page 18

18

HARPER

I blink rapidly, staring at the once familiar world in a daze.

Everything looks the same—same trees, same lake, same twisty road around it.

But everything has changed.

For one thing, my hands are tied together, courtesy of my ex-turned-famous hockey star.

After he kidnapped me from my childhood home, he told me he was going to marry me.

He spit out some lame bullshit about me not being able to testify against him for committing a crime if I’m his wife, but I know the man beside me better than that.

Or, I thought I did… up until the moment he kidnapped me.

I look over at his smug expression.

He’s staring at the road, his eyes glazed over.

I can practically see visions of wedding bells dancing in his head.

And that proves my point.

He truly wants to marry me.

“We’ve never talked specifically about the type of diamond you like. I don’t think your tastes have changed much from college, though.”

“Ford. Seriously?” I blink at him, my mind trying—and failing—to process this.

He doesn’t even hear me.

Or, more accurately, he chooses not to.

“We could have an actual ceremony later. Maybe in the spring. Although that’s your least favorite season.”

I blink, wondering if I’ve fallen asleep and this is all a nightmare.

He taps the steering wheel like he’s deep in thought. “Autumn. That’s your favorite. The leaves changing would look gorgeous with your white dress. Maybe something with lace. Definitely a long train. And Connor can officiate, obviously.”

I open my mouth. “Ford?—”

He cuts me off before I can get another word out.

“For the honeymoon, I’m thinking of a cabin in the mountains. No cell service. Just you and me. Naked. Tangled up for a week straight.” He glances at me, smirking. “Maybe two weeks. Actually, fuck it. A month.”

I choke on my own breath. “ A month ?”

“Hmmm. That’ll be tough with hockey season… but over Christmas break? Perfect timing.”

He nods to himself like he just cracked the Da Vinci code.

I wish my damn wrists weren’t bound so I could massage my temples.

My head is pounding from this insanity.

“Can we just… slow down for a minute?”

He turns his head and looks at me like I’m the unhinged one. “Slow down?” His brows furrow. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I’m not kidding,” I say, disbelief still coursing through my wildly spinning emotions. “You can’t just marry me because you’re kidnapping me.”

His eyes, which had drifted back to the road, now turn to me again. “I’ve envisioned marrying you since we were kids. But this idea… it’s genius. I mean, we’ve known each other for a long time. Sure, we had that decade we were estranged, but we have the rest of our lives to make up for it.”

“Ford.” I rub my wrists together, wishing I could get the hell out of these ropes. “Did you get hit in the head with a puck? A stick? Slammed against the boards at some point before the season ended?”

“Not anything I haven’t experienced before.” His energy is frenetic as he squirms in the seat, gesturing with one hand. “We could have a backyard wedding at Gram’s. Or we could rent out a venue. The hotel ballroom is lovely. Huge, and would fit plenty of guests if you wanted to invite?—”

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?” I yell, my breath rasping from my lungs, my bound hands shaking uncontrollably. “Ford, this is too much. Too fast. We aren’t even back together, and you’re planning a wedding.”

“What do you mean, we aren’t together?” He shoots me a dark look. “I think everything that’s happened since I set foot in this town indicates we’re together.”

I gape at him, trying and failing to figure out how the fuck his mind works.

“You were scared and in trouble. Who’s the first person you called?”

I blink. “Well, you. But you were also the closest in proximity. It’s not like I could’ve called my parents or best friend.”

“You could’ve called the police, Harper.” His voice is full of exasperation. “But you immediately turned to me.”

I shift uncomfortably in my seat. “Okay, I see your point. But that doesn’t?—”

“You admitted that you broke up with me, not because you weren’t in love with me, but because of your hang-ups. Your insecurities. You thought you were ‘doing what’s best for me.’ Letting me be free because you didn’t think you fit in my world.” He turns those sparkling blue eyes on me, drawing me into his madness. “Don’t you see, Harper? I never wanted that. I always wanted you. Only you.”

His words are so damn sweet.

They begin melting the ice floating in my veins….

Wait a damn minute.

He’s kidnapping me with the intention of marrying me.

Blowing out a breath, I try to regain some semblance of control. “Ford. A wedding, a marriage, those are permanent. You can’t make rash, seat-of-your-pants decisions?—”

“Yeah, it sounds rash and spur-of-the-moment. But it’s not. It’s something I thought about for years. And you did, too.”

He reaches over, grabbing my cold hands. “Don’t you remember all those conversations we had? The dreams we shared? You’d finish college, and I’d propose. We’d get married, then buy a house. I’d play hockey, and you’d work in PR.”

Nostalgia swims through my veins.

I remember all of it.

Very well.

From the moment I realized I was in love with Ford, I dreamed about marrying him.

Spending the rest of my life with this man.

When he asked me to the school dance, that was the moment it all began.

When I was his date to the prom, I started imagining my first name and his last name.

Images of wedding dresses and rings, cake and flowers, danced in my head.

Flashed through my head when I daydreamed.

But never did I imagine we’d end for a decade, and then he’d waltz into my life, kidnap and want to marry me after a damn rock was thrown through my window!

I blow out a breath. “Of course, I remember it. But Ford, this is madness . Don’t you see? You can’t just kidnap and force me to marry you.”

He pulls into Gram’s driveway and shuts the vehicle off.

He turns toward me, wiggling his brows. “I can be very persuasive.”

He lifts one shoulder, his eyes sparkling. “If you won’t say yes willingly, I’ll just get you drunk.”

My mouth drops open. “Hey! That’s unfair to use that against me. Just because the first time I said I loved you, I drowned my insecurities in alcohol, then snuck through your bedroom window?—”

“Then stripped me down and rode my cock after your confession. Best night ever.”

He pushes open the door and is out of the vehicle, slamming it in my face before I can retort.

Damn him.

I’m so frustrated and mad, I’m shaking.

He has to listen to me, dammit.

I’m not going through with this foolish nonsense!

My door whips open, and he’s unfastening my seatbelt and lifting me from Gram’s vehicle like I weigh nothing. “Come along, my soon-to-be bride. We have a lot of planning to do.”

“I’ll scream.” I threaten as I squirm in his arms.

But his grip is like a damn vice as he cradles me to his chest, carrying me bridal style.

With my fucking wrists bound!

This is the most preposterous thing I’ve ever heard of.

I couldn’t dream of such nonsense!

“Go ahead and scream.” He grins down at me, in complete control despite the chaos of the situation. “Who’s gonna hear you?”

“Gram? Connor?”

“Well, my pretty soon-to-be-wife. You’re SOL. Connor took Gram to the grocery store and to run some errands.” He shakes his head. “Plus, he said something about staying here cause this is better than any movie or TV series he can stream.”

“Ford! You cannot kidnap a woman and marry her.”

He flashes me a smirk, smug as hell. “I’m not kidnapping any woman. I’ve captured you . Clearly.”

I gape at him, words failing me. “That is literally the same thing.”

He winks. “Semantics, baby. Either way, it ends with you being mine. So yes, actually, I can and I will. Watch me.”

Okay, I need a new tactic.

Preferably one that doesn’t involve me tying him to a chair and force-feeding him logic.

“I know there’s a reasonable man inside… whatever this is.”

He carries me inside, kicking the door shut behind him. “Are you sure about that? I’ve never been reasonable when it comes to you.”

I swallow hard, my head spinning.

Internally, I’m fucking screaming.

And yet, there’s a part of me, some depraved, masochistic part, that actually likes this.

Some unhinged, traitorous voice whispering in my head. Why the fuck does being kidnapped by him feel like the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me?

Maybe his insanity is rubbing off on me.

He keeps going, heading for the stairs.

“W-What are you d-doing?” My voice wobbles, my mouth suddenly dry as I stare at his profile.

He doesn’t hesitate.

Doesn’t break his stride.

He carries me straight to his room.

“We have time alone…” His voice is low, rough, and full of promise. His grip tightens possessively around me. “And I have plenty of ideas on how to fill it.”

Oh, shit.

If he touches me again, I’m done for.

I’ll lose my mind and my last shred of self-control.

I’ll agree to anything he wants.

And he damn well knows it.