Three Brides, No Groom. Debbie Macomber

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