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
