Three Brides, No Groom (3 page)

“Gretchen!”

As if her thoughts had conjured him up, Roger was striding
across the lawn toward the fountain. “What the hell are you doing here, Morrow?”
he asked, arriving breathless, his chest heaving.

When Josh didn’t immediately answer, Roger faced Gretchen. “Is
he pestering you?”

“Of course not,” she replied, angered by both the question and
the insinuation.

“I told you to stay away from Gretchen,” Roger snarled at Josh.
As though she needed his protection, he reached out and grabbed hold of her
arm.

“I suggest you let go of her,” Josh said, his voice deceptively
calm.

Roger ignored him. “Come on, Gretchen, let’s get out of
here.”

She jerked her arm free of his grasp and met his look squarely.
“I haven’t finished thinking about you and me yet.”

Anger flared in Roger’s dark eyes. “What’s Morrow doing
here?”

“What do you care?” Josh asked, his words a challenge.

Roger glared at Josh and seemed to be weighing the odds of
engaging in a fistfight, then decided against it. Wisely, she thought.

“Gretchen, I think you’d better come with me,” he said, calmer
this time.

“I’m not ready to leave yet.” She wasn’t looking to defy Roger,
but she needed time to deal with a multitude of pressing questions. Decisions
had to be made, the consequences of which she would have to live with for the
rest of her life.

Again Roger’s eyes flared with anger.

“You heard the lady,” Josh inserted smoothly, with that cocky
grin of his.

Gretchen whirled on him. “I can do my own talking, thank
you.”

“Fine.” Josh raised his right hand in a mocking gesture of
peace.

Tight-lipped, Roger said, “Either you get out of here, Morrow,
or I’m calling security. Your kind isn’t welcome around here. Why don’t you go
visit your daddy in prison? Have a good look around, since that’s where you’re
headed yourself.”

Josh looked unconcerned, which only served to anger Roger more.
But Gretchen noticed the vein in Josh’s temple throb and knew Roger’s words had
affected him.

“You should have been expelled long ago,” Roger added, then
doubled up his fist and took a wild swing at Josh, who didn’t so much as blink
when the punch went wide.

“Maybe Dean Williams is looking for a valid excuse to be rid of
me,” Josh suggested casually. “What he really needs is a charge that’ll stick.
How about assault?” As he spoke, his fist shot out and exploded against Roger’s
nose.

Stunned, Roger stumbled backward. His hand flew to his face,
and blood oozed between his fingers. “I’m bleeding!” he cried in horror. “Now
you’ve done it, Morrow,” he threatened. “You’re finished at this school. I’ll
make sure of that.”

“I can’t tell you how worried I am.” Josh reached for his
helmet and climbed aboard his motorcycle. He started the engine and then, as
though in afterthought, he turned and looked at Gretchen. His eyes locked with
hers as he slowly extended his arm to her.

She hesitated, unsure what to do.

“Go with him and the engagement is off,” Roger threatened.

It was all the incentive she needed. She slipped the diamond
ring off her finger and tossed it to Roger, then leaped onto the motorcycle
behind Josh.

He revved the engine, spewing exhaust at Roger, then raced off
in the direction of the sun.

Chapter 2

G
retchen had never ridden on a motorcycle
before. She wrapped her arms tightly around Josh’s waist as they headed down the
narrow asphalt pathway. When he changed gears, she could hear Roger shouting
curses after them. Closing her eyes, she savored the look of shock and dismay on
Roger’s face when she’d returned his ring and leaped onto the back of the Harley
with Josh. In retrospect, her actions had been foolhardy, but also purely
instinctual. As the wind whipped her hair around her face, she smiled. This one
small act of rebellion had cheered her considerably.

They sped across the school parking lot toward the busy
four-lane street that bordered the university. Gretchen didn’t have a clue where
Josh was taking her, and at the moment she didn’t care. She angled her face into
the wind, letting it dry the tears from her cheeks. For the first time since
Didi had confronted her, the oppressive tightness surrounding her heart
lessened.

Josh eased to a stop in a restaurant parking lot several blocks
from the university. He twisted in the seat to look at her, keeping the huge
bike balanced between his legs.

“Where do you want me to take you?” he asked.

“Where?” she repeated, not knowing how to answer him. It would
have suited her to ride off into the sunset and forget everything. Forget Didi.
Forget Roger and the ugly scene by the fountain. Forget that she had less than
fifty dollars cash on her and nowhere to go.

“To the airport?” Josh suggested.

“I…Roger’s mother has my ticket. I’d originally planned to
spend a week with her putting the finishing touches on our wedding plans.”

Josh glared at her. “You’re not going to ask for that creep’s
ring back, are you?”

“No.” And she meant it. Despite all the time and energy—and
emotion—that had gone into the wedding plans, she could not accept what he’d
done. One part of her had wanted to look past his infidelity and pretend
everything would eventually be all right. But the other part knew their
relationship would never be the same again. If Roger was unfaithful before they
were married, she could never trust him after the wedding. He was nowhere near
ready to be a husband.

“Good,” Josh said. “You deserve better.”

“Could you take me to Mary Ann Seawright’s?” she asked. Mary
Ann was a friend who lived nearby. Gretchen could stay there until her parents
returned from British Columbia. Of course, she could always contact Mrs.
Lockheart about her airline ticket, but she preferred not to. She feared Roger’s
mother would attempt to change her mind, and Gretchen lacked the emotional
energy to lock horns with the woman. If anyone was forced to deal with her, it
should be Roger. Gretchen preferred to sever all ties.

“Does Roger know Mary Ann?” Josh asked.

“Yes. She goes out with his friend Bill Beckett. The four of us
often double-dated.” Of course, she realized, that meant Roger would soon know
exactly where she’d gone.

“Where’s home?” Josh asked next.

She bit her lower lip. Home had never seemed so far away. “San
Francisco, but my parents are on vacation. They won’t be back for several days.”
Not until then did she realize she had no means of getting home, anyway. Unlike
so many other parents, hers had never chosen to give her an all-purpose credit
card, and she had run her bank balance down to nearly nothing in preparation for
setting up a new joint account with Roger.

That cocky half grin of Josh’s slid into place. “As it happens,
I’m headed in that direction. You can ride along with me, if you want. I’ll drop
you off in Frisco and continue on my way.” He paused as if to read her reaction
to his offer. “Fact is, I’d welcome the company.”

Gretchen wasn’t sure how to answer. While it was true that he
was offering her a way out of a tricky situation, she didn’t really know Josh
Morrow. His reputation would be enough to turn her mother’s hair prematurely
white.

His eyes glinted with challenge, and it seemed he was waiting
for her to reject his generosity.

“I appreciate it, but…” She stalled, unsure and a little
afraid.

“But?”

“I don’t have much cash with me. Fifty dollars at the most,
although I do have a gasoline credit card.”

“Hey, we’re in fat city,” Josh teased. “I’ve only got a little
more than a hundred bucks myself.”

She grinned. “OK, I accept.” She’d never done anything more
impulsive in her life. She might not know Josh very well, but she trusted him.
Of course, she’d also trusted Roger. But she was her own woman, and despite the
bad-boy tag Josh wore like a badge of honor, she would rather ride home with him
on the back of a Harley than deal with Roger, or his family, ever again.

“I’m sure my father would be more than happy to reimburse you
for any expenses,” she said.

“We’ll discuss that later. What will you need to take with
you?”

“Not much,” she promised, knowing he wouldn’t have room for
more than the essentials.

Once he checked to be sure Roger was nowhere in sight, Josh
dropped her off at the sorority house with a promise to return within the
hour.

Mrs. Vance, the housemother, regarded her anxiously when
Gretchen walked in the front door.

“Thank goodness you’re back,” the middle-aged woman said with a
heavy sigh. “Roger Lockheart was here no more than five minutes ago, looking for
you. He’s such a nice young man, and he’s worried sick about you taking off with
Josh Morrow that way. I never did trust a man on a motorcycle.”

Gretchen bit her tongue to keep from saying that she trusted
Josh far more than she did Roger. It wouldn’t do any good to argue, and she
didn’t have time to waste.

“Give Roger a call, why don’t you?” Mrs. Vance called as
Gretchen raced up the stairs. “I’m sure it’s nothing more than a lovers’
spat.”

Ignoring the suggestion, Gretchen hurried to her room, where
her two large suitcases rested undisturbed. She quickly sorted through what
she’d packed, scooped up what she truly needed and stuffed it into a small tote
bag. Then she sat on the edge of the bed, went through her purse and counted her
cash. Fifty-five dollars. Afraid that if she lingered much longer Roger would
return, she raced down the stairs, pulling out her cell phone on the way.

Luckily Mary Ann was home. “I need you to do something for me,”
Gretchen said without preamble.

Her longtime friend must have heard the urgency in her voice.
“Of course. What do you need?”

“I’m leaving my suitcases with Mrs. Vance. Could you come and
get them for me?”

“Uh, sure, but why in heaven’s name do you need me to—”

“I don’t have time to explain now,” Gretchen broke in. “I’ve
broken my engagement to Roger.”

Mary Ann gasped. “Gretchen, for the love of heaven, what
happened?”

“I’ll call and tell you everything once I’m home.”

“Home? But how are you going to get to San Francisco?”

Gretchen heard the unmistakable roar of Josh’s Harley outside.
“I can’t tell you now. I’ll phone soon, I promise.”

“But…but…”

Gretchen severed the connection. She reached for her purse and
the tote bag, and discovered Mrs. Vance standing in front of the living-room
window. The woman was holding the curtain to one side and glaring, her mouth
twisted in disapproval.

“I wonder what that Morrow boy is doing here?” she
muttered.

“He’s here for me,” Gretchen announced, enjoying the pure shock
value of the statement.

The housemother gasped and swiveled to stare at her. “But
you—”

Gretchen interrupted her. “I’m going with him.” Until that
moment, she hadn’t realized how much she longed for her home and her family.
“Goodbye, Mrs. Vance.”

“Gretchen…Gretchen, I must insist—”

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” She raced out the front door and
bounded down the steps. Josh handed her a second helmet, and while she placed it
on her head and fastened the strap, he tucked the tote bag into one of the
leather bags draped over the back of the bike. He climbed on, and she positioned
herself behind him.

Before they roared away, Gretchen turned back to find Mrs.
Vance standing on the porch, her fingertips to her mouth as if she wasn’t sure
what she should do.

Gretchen, however, had never been more confident. Only a few
hours earlier her heart had been breaking. Now, on the back of Josh Morrow’s
Harley, with the wind in her face and her arms securely wrapped around his
muscular torso, she was free. Truly free.

Unfortunately, the feeling didn’t last. Before long, questions
and doubts were buzzing through her head like mosquitoes over a stagnant pond.
The wedding invitations had been engraved, and her wedding dress ordered from an
exclusive boutique. Her parents had booked the ballroom of a five-star hotel for
the reception. All that money and effort, all the planning and dreaming, had
been wasted. Her face burned with humiliation, knowing she was the one who would
have to deal with the cancellations. But what was the use in dwelling on the
negative? The only important thing was that she couldn’t marry Roger.

After some time on the road, the deafening sound of the Harley
vibrating in her ears, she shifted on the seat, both physically and mentally
miserable. What had seemed daring and exciting a few hours earlier appeared
exceedingly foolish now. Her back ached from holding herself upright and not
leaning against Josh. Her legs felt as if they were locked into position, and
she was certain her calves would soon cramp up on her. To top everything off,
Josh apparently had the bladder of a camel.

When at last he did stop, she was afraid he would need to pry
her off the bike with a crowbar. She looked around and realized they were at the
ocean. Huge rolling waves crashed against the shore, then lovingly stroked a
frothy trail across the sand. Large gray-and-white gulls circled overhead, and
the scent of the sea lingered in the moist air. The sun was a brilliant orange
disk on the horizon, ready to slip out of sight. Already dusk was settling
in.

“Where are we?” she asked, easing first one leg and then the
other away from the motorcycle. Josh lent her a hand, which she gratefully
accepted.

“Cannon Beach, Oregon,” he replied.

Vaguely she recalled crossing the Columbia River at Astoria.
She’d actually kept her eyes closed most of the time, needing to think. At this
rate, she should be home within two days, three at the most.

With his hands braced on his hips, Josh surveyed the sky. “I
don’t think it’ll rain.” He left her and walked toward the beach. She looked
longingly at the public rest room but followed him, wanting to know where he
intended to spend the night. It went without saying that they wouldn’t be
sharing a room.

Her shoes quickly filled with sand, and she found keeping pace
with him difficult.

“We’ll bed down here for the night,” he announced.

“Here?” she asked, looking around. All she saw was barren sand.
“The beach?”

“Do you have any better ideas?”

She glanced over her shoulder at the long row of oceanfront
hotels.

“For seventy-five bucks you’ll get a room the size of
refrigerator,” he said, his gaze trained on the ocean.

She squared her shoulders. “Well, then, the beach it is.”

He grinned as if to say he admired her adventurous spirit.
“There’s a shower in the public rest room, if you want to take one.”

Gretchen did. She was afraid to look in a mirror, certain there
must be bugs glued to her teeth. Her clothes felt plastered to her body.

She took what she needed from the saddlebag—a towel, washcloth
and her cosmetic case—and headed for the rest room. It smelled of urine and
ocean, but looked clean enough. The shower stall, minus the curtain, was in one
corner. She stripped off her clothes and stood under the spray. Despite the
lukewarm temperature, it felt luxurious.

As she turned her face into the water, the ache returned to the
pit of her stomach. She leaned against the back of the open stall and cradled
her middle. That morning she’d awakened thinking all was right with the world.
She had her business degree and within weeks would be wed to Roger. And now, in
the space of a few hours, her reality had changed completely.

When the water turned from lukewarm to chilly, she reached for
the towel. Once she was dressed, she felt better. It was when she combed out her
long blond hair in front of the metal mirror that she made the decision. She
stared at her distorted reflection, the comb halfway down the side of her
head.

She had only herself to please now, not Roger. Her fingers
trembled as she dug through her cosmetic bag until she found a small pair of
scissors. Seizing the pale tresses, she snipped at the sides with erratic,
disjointed motions. She hacked and cut until the long strands of hair lay at her
feet like discarded remnants of spun gold. Despite the distorted reflection, she
knew she’d brutalized her once lovely hair. Breathing hard, she waited several
minutes before she gathered up the courage to go back outside.

By the time she left the rest room, the sun had completely set.
A full moon cast a golden glow across the beach. Josh had spread out a blanket
and lit a small driftwood fire, and was now working his pocket knife against a
stick, whittling it to a point. He glanced up as she approached. He said nothing
about her mutilated hair.

“There’s a grocery store not far from here,” he said. “I got us
wieners and buns.”

Gretchen nodded, then self-consciously sat down on the end of a
log and started to shake. Exhaling harshly, she raised her fingers to her head
to investigate the damage. It wouldn’t have hurt to wait, she realized. In a
couple of days she would be home, and a trained professional could have cut it.
She could only guess how horrible she looked. Tears stung the back of her
eyes.

“Give me the scissors,” Josh said gently.