I disclaim…

A/N: Okies, so this is a little different from the other Twilight stuff I've posted before. It's another Rosalie/Emmett fic, but that's about all it has in common. Not only is this an AU but it's also AH. I somehow managed to break away from cannon. This is also lighter than my other work, meant to be more amusing and fluffy. Sadly, I think Rose fell into her OOC stereotype here, but it was still fun to write. Warning of strong language that may or may not push the T rating. It's nothing I haven't heard in a PG-13 movie or coming from the mouth of a second grader, but the "F-word" does come up twice…

Summary: Wedding fiascos, speeding tickets, and sexy cops! Oh my! Armed with nothing but a crumpled wedding dress and tear stained cheeks, former bride-to-be Rosalie Hale thinks she can take on Mr. Sexy State Trooper Emmett McCarty.

Dedication: To those of you who have ever been stuck in traffic because someone insisted on slowing down to look at the police car with flashing lights sitting on the side of the road. Don't cha just love those people?

Runaway Bride
A Twilight Series Fanfic
By: FlamingRedFox
Rosalie's Point of View

Stupid, lying, cheating son of a bitch! How dare he? How dare he!? God damn bastard! God damn fucking idiot bastard!

I don't know why I ever trusted him. Agreeing to marry him was probably the dumbest thing I've ever done in my life. I knew he was a bit of a drunk. Heck, most people in our circle of friends were. With parties every other night even I drank more than I probably should on a weekly basis. But I thought I loved him so I stupidly forgave that flaw. Big mistake there.

Bastard showed up to our wedding twenty-three minutes late, reeking of vodka, and with a cheap shade of lipstick staining his collar that definitely wasn't mine. He then had the nerve to try and saunter down the aisle and carry on with the ceremony as if nothing was amiss. Idiot stumbled over his own feet the entire way and actually knocked the minister down in an attempt to stable himself.

By that point I was fuming. I had spent a good twelve hours making myself look perfect for the idiot, strapped into a wedding dress that made it nearly impossible to breath, wearing uncomfortable three inch stilettos, my golden hair held up with so many bobby pins I'd have a migraine by the end of the night. I was the perfect bride. Hell, I looked like I had just walked out of a David's Bridal catalogue. But all the pain of looking as stunning as I did was supposed to be well rewarded at the end of the night. It usually was. I didn't prance around in designer clothing and death trap shoes for nothing.

But what was my reward this time? The one day that looking good actually mattered? The one day I could make myself absolutely stunning and not be envied simply because it was my day? I was supposed to be the prettiest damn woman in the entire church, which for me of course wasn't very hard, but instead of that earning me a doting husband and a future filled with kids it got me a cheating fiancé drunk off his ass.

Ooo, I wanted to kill the bastard. I should have killed the bastard. Of course that would have ended poorly seeing as one of my bridesmaids was the daughter of a police chief who happened to be sitting in attendance as a guest of the bride. If I was going to murder someone I would definitely make sure I'd be able to get away with it first. Rosalie Lillian Hale does not end up in jail. Besides, I didn't want to get blood on my pretty white dress. My maid-of-honor would have killed me if I so much as got a drop of water on the silky fabric. If I stained the thing with blood she would have flayed me alive.

Speaking of darling little Alice, I took a glance at my present appearance. Yep, I was as good as dead once she tracked me down. Her cry of, "I told you marrying Royce was a bad idea!" still bounced around in my head hours after I'd slapped him, ran down the aisle, and stormed out of the church. The worst part was that the damn pixie was right. She'd told me from the beginning that my relationship with Royce was doomed for failure. I should have listened to her.

Now look at me. I'd somehow managed to cram the puffy skirt of my dress into the driver's side of my bright red BMW M3. Mascara followed the trails of my tears despite the label claiming it was waterproof. I'd broken both heals off of my shoes on my way from the church, and my hair was an utter mess. Between the hair spray, unfound bobby pins, and limp hanging curls accompanied by the dark, bruise like make-up stains, I looked more like a corpse bride on Halloween than I did a bride-to-be in April. The wind didn't help any as I sped down I-81 at more than a hundred and twenty miles an hour with the top down on my car.

I'm not sure how many state boarders I crossed; I just knew that I had to get away. I pulled off the road maybe three times to refill on gas, which mind you is not an easy task in a wedding dress. At least I was a born and bred New Yorker so I knew what I was doing. Did you know people in New Jersey don't pump their own gas? And people call me spoiled. Humph!

I refused to ease up on the gas pedal as I easily weaved in and out of traffic. I must have been driving for at least six hours, but it still wasn't enough. I wasn't far enough away. Another "Welcome to!" sign flashed by my vision and I barely made out the word Tennessee as I crossed into yet another state. Tennessee… That's southwest of New York, right? Maybe I should have taken I-95 instead. I've never actually been out of New York before. I remember Bella telling me that I-95 was a straight run down the east coast all the way to Florida though. If I had taken I-95 I would have at least known my destination.

Then again, did I really want to know where I was going? I'd taken the first interstate I'd come to and it was slowly dragging me southwest. Maybe if I put the Appalachians between me and that disaster of a wedding I'd be able to find some place to stop for the night and call my family and friends. My parents would be worried sick, and I had to face Alice's wrath sooner of later. Maybe if I did a three way call with her and Bella it wouldn't be so bad? I glanced at my cell phone lying in the passenger's seat and frowned before turning to look back at the road. It was definitely too soon to call.

Okay, so I was currently in Tennessee. I needed something to distract myself as I sped down the road which was slowly morphing into I-40, so I decided to try and figure out what could possibly be of interest in Tennessee. I was getting hungry and was in desperate need of getting out of this wedding dress, so maybe if the state was a remotely interesting one I could stop and kill a few hours. It would be nice to get out of the car and walk around for a while too. I'm surprised my legs hadn't cramped up yet.

Now let's see… The capitol was Nashville, right? And there was that song Walking in Memphis. Memphis was a major Tennessee city. And I remember Jasper mentioning he'd been to Bristol, Tennessee several times. That meant… Well, honestly the only thing I really knew about Tennessee was that it was home to the Bristol racetrack, one of the shortest car racing tracks in the NASCAR circuit. Why did I know this? Because Alice's boyfriend Jasper was originally from Texas and while I've never actually ever seen him drive a car, if we were all hanging out at his place on a Sunday the television was always tuned into the race. Most men I knew religiously watched football or baseball. Jasper's sports obsession was car racing.

I admit, listening to him prattle on about that particular sport was a lot easier than listening to my two brothers constantly arguing over the Yankees and Red Sox. If one of them hadn't decided to go to Boston for college, it would have never been an issue. As it was, I'd take cars over baseball any day. I could appreciate a good car, and I definitely wouldn't mind looking under the hood of one of those racecars if presented with the opportunity. Now that would be a fun car to tweak.

The needle was pushed a little over 120mph when I first noticed the flashing lights in the rearview mirror. So that's what Tennessee had: cops. Well, actually it was a state trooper or highway patrol or something, but they're basically the same thing. The only difference was the paycheck and the boss. Still, I did not need this right now. I was still seething about the wedding fiasco and now I didn't even look presentable enough to even hope about flirting my way out of a ticket. Shit! I did not want a potentially cute cop to see me like this. I was a complete and total mess! Not good, not good, not good! It's not even like I could try and fix myself up in the short time it'd take him to walk from his car to mine. I was in a crumpled wedding dress for god's sake! Maybe he would turn out to be a she. I'd have even less of a chance of flirting my way out of the ticket, but at least I wouldn't have to worry about my appearance as much… What? I was now a single woman again. Maybe it's a little soon, but that's the definition of a rebound relationship, isn't it? I could have a fling in Tennessee with a cute cop if I wanted to.

The feeling of my car coming to a complete stop jerked me out of my thoughts. I hadn't even realized I was slowing down. The flashing red and blue lights steadily grew closer until they stopped about ten feet behind me. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I repeatedly banged my head against the headrest as I waited for the inevitable. The top was still down so the trooper could see every move I made. No point in trying to doll myself up now. He'd know I was going to flirt before he even made it to the window. Maybe I could get him to take pity on me instead of dazzling him senseless like I normally would? One glance in the rearview mirror had told me it was a he, and a gorgeous one at that. Dark curly hair, well defined muscles, and an amused smirk on his face that was only made sexier by the dimples in his cheeks. Judging by that smirk I'd say that his catching me speeding was the most fun he'd had all day. Damn it!

"License and regis…"

I cut him off by shoving the documents at him, not looking up to meet his gaze. The sound of his voice was just too alluring, with the light southern drawl and silky baritone. I was supposed to be angry, not swooning. Swooning would only make me look more pathetic, and pathetic definitely did not look good on me. As he intently stared at my license I began to wish he'd just hurry up and write the ticket already. The sooner this was over, the better. I didn't care about the damn fine any more. I just wanted to be on my way again.

"Are you sure you're Miss Rosalie Hale?"

"What!?" My head snapped around to look at him so fast I actually had to blink a few times to clear my vision. His question had caught me so off guard. Was he trying to make a joke? "Of course I'm Rosalie Hale! Who else would I be?" I snapped, narrowing my icy violet eyes into a glare that would make lesser men shudder. He just seemed to try and hold back a chuckle.

"It's just that," he started before halting, trying to figure out the best way to word whatever it was he was about to say. I had a feeling it would be unpleasant. "The woman in the picture here is breathtakingly beautiful and you look worse than a cat that's been run over by all eighteen wheels of some ten ton big rig."

I was visibly seething now. Who the hell did this guy think he was? Was he trying to be funny or something? Because if he was, he damn well sucked at comedy. I wasn't in the mood for jokes, especially ones that insulted me. So what if my heart had fluttered a bit when he'd said my license picture was breathtakingly beautiful? He was not going to get away with comparing me to road kill!

"Your point?" I'm pretty sure I looked murderous because his amused smile faltered for a second.

"Easy lady. If you don't calm down I'm worried I'm gonna have to check your trunk for the body of yer dead husband."

He was laughing at me. A chuckle had actually fallen from his mouth as he'd cracked another hurtful joke. Now normally I liked dark humor, but that was only when it wasn't directed at me. This guy had another thing coming if he thought he'd be getting away with talking to me like that. I was Rosalie Hale for heaven's sakes! I probably had more money in my purse than he did his monthly paycheck.

Before I could stop myself I was out of the car and glaring up at him, a well manicured finger pressed into his chest. "Look here," I dropped my gaze for a second to read his name, "McCarty. I don't know who the hell you think you are but that is no way to talk to a lady. Now either write the damn speeding ticket or leave me the fuck alone! Or would you rather crack another idiotic joke at my expense?"

I stood there in a crumpled wedding dress with my silken hair sticking out in every direction and mascara tracks running down my cheeks. My normally stunning violet eyes glared daggers into his forest green ones, and for some odd reason I was finding it even harder to breath. Stupid restricting dress made it hard to be angry. Or maybe it was the pitiful regret I could read clearly in his eyes. Stupid sexy cop. To bad that regret seemed to only be in his eyes, because I almost smacked him when he opened his mouth again.

"And that's no way to talk to a law enforcement officer. It's Officer McCarty to you." He crossed his arms, blatantly giving me a once over as he continued to hold my license and registration captive. "So what's with the getup? I thought brides only ran away in movies."

I'm not exactly sure what happened then, but his words had stung me more than I cared to admit. As much as I wanted to give him a black eye I couldn't so much as form my hand into a fist. I slumped back against my car, tears flowing freely again. I thought I'd rid myself of them by the time I was out of New York. The blatant reminder of the pain I was currently running away from proved that theory wrong though. I had been betrayed and publicly humiliated, and now insulted and laughed at. For the last several hours I'd let my pride keep the hurt at bay, masking it with anger. Now a few jokes and a set of dimples had managed to crumble all of my walls and I was more vulnerable than a newborn infant. No one had ever seen me this fragile before, not even my own parents. Now I was bawling my eyes out in front of some sexy cop I was supposed to be furious with. I think this is officially the worst day of my life.

"Hey, are you alright? I'm sorry. It was just a joke. Come on, don't cry Miss Hale. I didn't mean anythin' by it, honest."

My sudden change in emotion must have affected Mr. Sexy State Trooper more than I would have guessed because suddenly I felt his fingers trying to brush away a few of my tears. He had leaned down to my height and nothing but concern laced both his expression and his voice.

"Do I look alright to you?" I huffed, still trying to cling to my anger. It was a futile attempt because the tears kept coming and I was desperately trying to resist throwing myself at the man and soaking his uniform shirt with my tears.

"No, you don't." No shit Mr. Obvious. "You look like you've been to Hell and back and somehow you still manage to put your license pic to shame."

So now he was actually going to compliment me? The idiot! Lucky for him I was actually vain enough that it worked. The tears refused to stop but I did manage to look up at him through my lashes. In place of his earlier grin was a small frown and those dimples I'd first noticed were still shining through. He had one hand still against my cheek while the other lightly gripped my shoulder, his eyes boring intensely into mine.

I think his little compliment worked a little too well because the next thing I knew my lips were pressed against his. He was just as shocked by the action as I was. Well, he was until I felt his tongue brush against my bottom lip, trying to deepen the kiss. I must have been running on pure instinct because if I had been thinking straight I would have never opened my mouth and given him the entrance he sought. As it was I now found myself fighting for control in what I'm pretty sure was the single most amazing kiss of my life. This kiss was a heck of a lot better than any kiss I'd ever shared with Royce. Hell, I think this kiss was better than sex with Royce too. Are kisses allowed to be better than sex?

I'm not sure how long we remained entwined, but by the time we pulled away I was breathless, had one hand wrapped within his curls, and was pretty sure I'd left permanent imprints of my nails on his left bicep. He was breathing heavily with one of his thumbs lightly brushing over my tearstained cheek and seemed in no rush to remove his other hand from my ass. For the longest moment we just stared at each other, trying to figure out what had just happened.

What had just happened? If his goal had been to stop me from crying then he'd definitely succeeded. But, that was a whole lot more than just a kiss. Simple kisses don't stop traffic…

Officer McCarty turned his head to follow my widened gaze when he took in my shocked expression. I heard him laugh as he took in the two lanes of slow moving cars. The interstate was currently backed up for several miles as people constantly slowed down to get a glimpse at the reason for the flashing lights. Damn curiosity. Why couldn't they mind their own business?

"I think that's my cue to let you get back on the road," he chuckled, flashing me a half grin as he slipped my license and registration back into my hands. I could see the sadness in his eyes as he spoke though, and that brought a frown onto my own features. I wasn't about to let a sexy cop get away from me that easily, especially after that kiss.

"What if I said I don't exactly know where I'm going? Or where I am, for that matter…" I looked up at him sweetly, hoping he'd take the hint and realize I wanted him to leave me just about as much as he did. Which was not at all. Unfortunately, I couldn't keep the bitterness out of my voice on the second half my question and the frown refused to yield from my lips. I didn't like not knowing where I was. I liked to be in control of my surroundings, and now the only thing I had any control over my car.

"Well you're takin' the long way through Tennessee. You're about eighty-two miles or so from Bristol, which if you actually obey the speed limit should get you there in about an hour and a half at most. Or I think we're about two hours from Virginia if you plan on going back the way you came. The next exit's fairly well built up if you want to get yourself something to eat. There's a few motels around too and an outlet center there."

Okay, so I found fault with a lot of what he just said. First he criticized my driving, which turned my frowning features into a displeased glare. Then he mentioned going back the way I came. Um yeah, that's not happening any time soon. Finally he had the nerve to suggest a motel. A motel! Do I look like somebody who's willing to spend the night in some cheap motel? I don't think so.

"What?" he questioned innocently as I attempted to burn him with my eyes. He had the cutest confused expression as he attempted to figure out what he'd done wrong. I almost felt guilty for glaring. Almost.

When our eyes locked I did soften up a little, leaning against the door of my car and crossing my arms over my chest. I sighed before pouting, and I think the action made him want to kiss me again. For the longest second he just stared at my lips, seeming to debate with himself on what to do. Truth be told I wouldn't have minded another kiss. Too bad he seemed to have decided against it.

"Isn't there anything around here more upscale than some cheap motel?"

I couldn't keep the whine out of my voice and that had him laughing at me again. At least all I did was whine. If Alice were here she'd be beating him over the head with her purse simply for saying the "m-word" as she liked to call it. Bella would have been laughing along with the cop. Seriously though. What person in their right mind would stay in a place with a name like Econo Lodge?

"Well I guess I could take you home with me. It'd save you the embarrassment of having to shop in that dress." Is it bad that I visibly perked up at the idea of going home with him? "We'd have to leave your car here though."

"What? Why?" He did not just suggest I leave my baby on the side of the road for all the world to break into. Well, maybe not the world but whoever decided to drive through Tennessee. That car had been a gift! From Royce… "Never mind. Let's just go."

I leaned over the door to grab my purse and cell-phone, along with the few CDs I had in the changer. I then purposely dropped the ignition key on driver's seat before turning and threading my arm through Mr. Sexy Cop's. Tilting my head to look up at him expectantly, an innocent smile spread across my face as I waited for him to lead the way back to his cruiser.

Damn was this man sexy when he was confused. His eyes kept jumping from my face to my car, trying to figure out what was running through my head. "You do know your car's now askin' to be stolen, right?"

I smirked and nodded, and he finally got the hint to start walking. "It's in my ex-fiancé's name. If anything happens to it, it's his problem. He should be the one to pay."

McCarty proved he could be a gentleman when he opened the passenger side door of the cruiser for me. "Thank you, officer," I practically purred. Maybe I was laying it on a little thick, but he'd made me think of my bastard of an ex. The flirting did earn me a sexy smirk.

"Emmett," he said simply before making his way to the other side of the car. I'm guessing that was his first name, but I wanted confirmation so I turned to him with a raised brow as he buckled in. This time he seemed to catch on. "You can call me Emmett. Now don't touch anything, especially that scanner down there. My shift's done in about twenty minutes and then I have to drop the car off at the station. From there it's about an hours drive to my place. You sure you don't wanna stay in one of those lovely Econo Lodges?"

A look a pure terror contorted my beautiful features which sent Emmett into another bout of laughter. So of course I thought it was a good idea to glare at him, but apparently that only caused him to laugh harder. The sound of that booming chortle of his was infuriating, and yet at the same time oddly musical to my ears. Why did he have to be so damn alluring when I was trying to be mad at him?

"You really gotta relax Miss Hale. For someone trying to run away you're awfully uptight."

"Rosalie," I corrected. "And I am not uptight."


I wasn't quite sure what he was 'hmm-ing' at but it sounded like he was incredulous. With the only other sounds in the car being the occasional crackle of the police scanner and the whir of the engine, I decided to pursue the argument. I am not uptight!

"If I can call you Emmett then you can call me Rosalie. And I'm not uptight!"

"You're sorely mistaken there Rosie. Since I've met you practically everything that's come out of that pretty little mouth of yours has been some sort of complaint or defensive remark. You definitely can't take a joke and your default emotion seems to be anger. If you ask me, that's the recipe for an uptight, high maintenance bitch."

"Well I didn't ask you. And did you just call me Rosie?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Well don't."

"Don't what?"

"Call me Rosie."

"Awe c'mon, why not? I think Rosie's cute."

"Well I don't. I'm not a five year old."

"See? This is what I meant when I said you needed to relax."

"Maybe I'd relax if you'd stop mocking me every chance you got."

"You don't think I'm funny Rosie?"

"Let's see… You've compared my appearance to that of a dead cat's, accused me of murdering my ex, compared my situation to that of a cheesy romantic comedy, and actually considered making me stay in a motel. No, you're not funny. You're the most infuriating man I've ever met. And don't call me Rosie!"

I had my arms firmly crossed over my chest as I glared out the windshield. For the next few minutes the car was deadly silent aside from the low hum of the engine. Even the scanner didn't crackle. My teeth were clenched and my jaw was set and for the life of me I couldn't figure out what it was about this guy that had me so ticked off.

I finally chanced a glance at him after about five or so odd minutes. He had a rather smug smirk on his face as he sped along the interstate. That only seemed to infuriate me more. I turned my glare on him then, and when he looked over at me he chuckled again, quirking a brow as if to ask "What?"

"What are you so smug about?" I blurted out, letting my curiosity get the better of me.

"Eh, not much. Just the fact that despite your opinion of me you still seem pretty willing to come back to my place, Rosalie."

I stared at him mouth agape for several seconds before slumping down in the seat. He had me there. "Damn it," I mumbled, glaring out the window again. Ah well, despite his opinion of me he hadn't thrown me out of the car yet. Maybe that meant that whatever it was that was keeping me from leaving him was keeping him from leaving me as well.

A/N: Alrighty. So this was written during a two day drive up I-95 from Florida to New Jersey in which several times traffic built up because people wanted a glimpse at who was pulled over by a cop. Seriously. Traffic backing up for miles on end just because some idiot got pulled over for speeding is a real pain in the butt. Makes a fourteen hour trip take eighteen hours instead. I admit I couldn't resist the small dig at New Jersey. I'm a Jersey girl born and raised and I have never pumped my own gas. It's illegal to do so. ;P And I have indeed stayed at an Econo Lodge before. It is by far the worst motel I have ever had the displeasure of spending a few nights in. It was filthy, had bugs, and was not my first choice in lodgings. I've stayed in campgrounds that were nicer than that place. Oh! If someone ever insists you attend a NASCAR race, make sure you go to the Bristol track. Best race I ever saw was at Bristol.

So, hope you enjoyed my little road trip inspired fic. It may or may not have two more chapters. I rather like it as a one-shot, but I'm toying with the idea of having Alice and Bella set out to rescue Rose. I don't know why, but I really enjoy the idea of Rosalie as a runaway bride. And, when I've got nothing better to do while trapped in a motor home for eighteen plus hours I figured what better way to pass the time than to type until my laptop battery dies? ;P

Review please!