A Bachelor For The Bride (The Brides of Grazer's Corners #2)

by Mindy Neff

  “You either take your chances with me or them.”

  His voice was low and rough, impatient. Yet his eyes were steady. Jordan was sure she was having some bizarre dream—either that or she’d fallen down the rabbit hole in a weird Alice-in-Wonderland reenactment.

  But now was not the time for indecision. Something in Tanner’s gaze, the barest flicker of softening, made up her mind. He was here. The closest. The wedding guests would never get to her in time.

  She made a split-second decision. Faced with guns—the town was going to get a horrible reputation—and the lack of law enforcement to come to the rescue, Tanner was her best choice. For the moment.

  Just until she had time to think more clearly.

  With adrenaline pumping at a dizzying rate, she hoisted up her dress and flung her bedraggled flowers over her shoulder. The bouquet landed like a spiraling football in Charity Arden’s hands.

  Amid shouts and astonished expressions, Tanner Caldwell grabbed Jordan by the arm and swung her onto the back of his bike.

  “For God’s sake, keep that dress away from the wheels.” He snatched a pair of aviator-style sunglasses from his shirt pocket, shoved them on and revved the engine.

  With her spike heels hooked around the rungs of the foot pegs, and her dress pulled practically to her waist—showing off-white silk stockings and a good portion of her garter belt—Jordan clutched at Tanner’s waist and held on for dear life.

  The Harley vibrated beneath her and leaped forward like a feral beast, leaning into the curve as they barreled around Grape Street and raced past gaping guests in wedding attire.

  In a blur of flashing scenery, she noticed Randall standing on the church steps, hands on hips, his blond hair styled and sprayed as if defying the June breeze to mess it up.

  Her intended husband glanced around—for help? she wondered fleetingly. Or to see who was witnessing his bride taking off with another man? She felt the need to explain, started to tug at Tanner’s shirt to get his attention, then realized that now was not a good time to stop and chat.

  A sixties-model minibus pulled a U-turn on Walnut and took off in a squeal of tires—apparently in pursuit.

  But why? What the heck was going on here?

  Jordan tightened her arms around Tanner’s waist. The wad of paper clenched in her fist was poking her palm. She straightened it as best she could and leaned around his shoulder to have a look.

  Ransom.

  The bold black letters had her heart slamming harder against her chest. Eyes tearing from the wind, she couldn’t read the rest.

  “Kidnapping?” she said incredulously, the whizzing air stealing the word from her.

  Tanner took one hand off the handlebars. She felt his fingertips caress her palm, then felt him gently pry the paper from her numb hold. She spared a thought for their immediate safety when he took his eyes off the road long enough to scan the crude note before slipping it into his shirt pocket.

  Who in the world would want to kidnap her? It was too much. Things like this didn’t happen in Grazer’s Corners. Well, she amended, maybe they did. This was the second week in a row that a wedding had been interrupted—in a bizarre manner!

  She glanced back over her shoulder. The motorcycle wobbled.

  She felt Tanner’s chest rumble, and thought she heard him say, “Be still.”

  How did he expect her to be still and keep an eye on their pursuers at the same time?

  “I think they’re coming after us!” she shouted, feeling the whip of Tanner’s long hair against her cheek. It was just like him to flout the law and not wear a helmet.

  He turned his head, his lips practically brushing her forehead. “There’s no way that bucket of bolts can catch this bike.”

  No. Judging from the blur of scenery zooming past, it was doubtful a full-blown race car would catch them.

  With her head pounding—from a slight hangover and too much stimulation—she plastered herself against Tanner’s back.

  “Ease up, Blackie. Just relax and pretend you’ve got one of your fancy horses between your legs.”

  Blackie. The nickname sent a soft thrill through her, a thrill she should not be feeling on her wedding day—with a man who wasn’t her groom.

  But instead of easing up, her arms and thighs tightened around him. The way he was taking the curves, it was a wonder her feet didn’t leave a trail of sparks on the asphalt. She felt out of control. At his mercy.

  The image of the townspeople, and of Randall, watching in astonishment as they’d pulled away, was imprinted in her mind. What must they be thinking?

  That bad-boy Tanner Caldwell had kidnapped her, that was what.

  She finally peeled herself from his back long enough to have a look around. They were traveling north on U.S. 99 now, away from town.

  “Where are we going?”

  He didn’t answer. The muscles of his forearm bunched as he cranked the throttle, increasing their speed. Hot dry air whipped past, billowing her dress. She snatched at the hem, holding it higher, crushing the delicate fabric. Thank goodness part of the dress was still tucked beneath her. Otherwise the virginal-white, G-string panties she’d bought and worn for Randall’s eyes only, would be exposed for all the world to see.

  As it was, the expanse of thigh between the tops of her silk stockings to nearly her panties was bared.

  A bride on the back of a Harley with her dress hiked around her waist wasn’t your everyday sight, and the picture they presented was creating a major stir with the truckers on 99. Air horns blared, men leered, and a family in a minivan looked scandalized.

  Despite the circumstances and the incredible events of the morning, Jordan felt a bubble of laughter surface.

  “Hell,” Tanner muttered.

  “What?”

  A small farming town lined both sides of the freeway. He veered off at the next exit and wheeled into a convenience station, shutting off the Harley’s engine. Jordan could feel the perspiration trickle between her breasts. Now that they were no longer moving, the heat was stifling.

  And the rapid pumping of her heart was making her hotter.

  “Why are we stopping here?” She cast a nervous glance toward the highway. No sight of the hippie and his sidekick.

  Tanner got off the bike and gently steadied her until she was standing beside him. Reaching for the duffel bag tied to the bar behind the seat, he extracted a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.

  “We’ve got to ditch that dress. We’re likely to cause a pileup on the freeway.”

  “Ditch...”

  He held out the clothes. She stared at them as though they were writhing, venomous snakes.

  “Are you out of your mind? I’m not ditching this dress. I’ll have you know it cost ten thousand dollars!”

  “Pity. It’s not worth it.”

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “It’s just a bunch of fabric.”

  “And imported lace, beads and genuine pearls.” Not that he’d know squat about high-class fashion.

  He shrugged. “So it’s an extravagant dress. Your old man’s still overextending himself, I see.”

  “What would you know about our finances?” He’d hit a nerve with that comment. After all, her wedding day was mired hip-deep in her family’s shaky finances.

  “More than you’d expect. Go put these on before we draw a crowd.” He tossed her the jeans and shirt.

  She caught the garments and glanced toward the rest rooms by the side of the convenience store. Granted, she’d always been more comfortable in jeans, but the idea of wearing Tanner’s clothes somehow seemed too...too personal.

  “I don’t think they’ll fit. Besides, we can make it back to my house. It’s not all that far.”

  “We’re not going back to your house.”

  Her heart skipped a beat, then thudded with renewed vigor—right at her aching temples. This whole day was turning into a mess. “Why not?”

  “Think about it, party girl. You saw the note. You’ve got
gun-toting idiots trying to nab you off the church steps. You think they don’t know where you live?”

  She felt as though she were standing in a pit of quicksand...and sinking fast. “But why would anyone want to kidnap me?”

  “I’d say that’s what we need to find out.”

  “Us?”

  “You got a better plan? Unless I’ve been misinformed, Grazer’s Corners is a little short on law enforcement at the moment. And believe me, if they’ll make a grab for you in broad daylight with a church full of people, they won’t think twice about breaching a ranch where the closest neighbor is two miles away.”

  What he said made sense. Still, she wasn’t used to spur-of-the-moment decisions, to being out of control. She was supposed to be getting married. There were guests waiting. Randall was waiting.

  “Daddy will take care of things.”

  “Think so? Where was good old Maynard when you were screaming your lungs out?”

  Jordan would like to know that, too. He should have been at her side, staying close so they could walk down the aisle. “So what are you suggesting?”

  “I’m suggesting we get out of town for a while until we get a handle on what’s going down. And a bride on the back of a Harley is attracting way too much attention. Especially since we’re being followed.”

  Even though confusion battered her, she saw his logic. No sense in giving the would-be kidnappers an edge. There was no question they were as conspicuous as a giraffe on a pig farm.

  Then she remembered an earlier thought. Tanner had come to her rescue; yet, to the town, it would surely appear as though he had kidnapped her.

  So now they were both on the lam.

  She fingered the buttery-soft denim. “What will I do with my wedding dress?”

  “Stuff it in my bag.”

  That brought her head up and her temples pounded anew. “I’m not stuffing this dress in a bag.” The very thought offended her.

  “Fine. Leave it here.”

  She rolled her eyes. Men had no concept of the value of clothing. “I’ll mail it home.”

  “Why don’t you just leave a trail of bread crumbs for the kidnappers to follow while you’re at it?”

  Oh, this was too bizarre for words. Kidnappers, for heaven’s sake. “Sarcasm is not necessary.”

  “Then get real. Use your head.” He reached up and removed his sunglasses.

  The power of that whiskey gaze nearly made her lose the thread of their conversation.

  “Forgive me if my head is a little overwhelmed at the moment. It’s not every day that people flash guns around and I go for a hair-raising ride with a motorcycle Romeo.”

  His brow lifted, his tone was soft and dark and dangerous. “Romeo? Is that how you see me?”

  She hadn’t meant to blurt that description. Damn it, her head was pounding and her brain just flat-out wasn’t up to speed.

  And she was not going to pick up the challenge she could see in his eyes.

  “Do we plan to stay in this town?”

  “No.”

  “Then it won’t be like I’m announcing my whereabouts if I mail the dress home. There’s a post office right over there.”

  “And there’s a pawnshop,” he countered, nodding toward the storefront with bars over its windows.

  “Pawn it?”

  “They’ll hold it for thirty days. Plenty of time to get back and get it out of hock.”

  “I like my idea of mailing it better.” She wondered if he had money on him to pay for postage. Aside from the Harley—which he could have borrowed, for all she knew—he didn’t appear to be particularly affluent. And at the moment, she was in the same boat. With her purse still at the church, she didn’t have a cent to her name.

  “We’re wasting time, Blackie. You have exactly ten minutes to make a decision, change out of that dress and take care of any personal needs.” He glanced at the gold watch at his wrist. “Starting now. If you’re not done, I’ll take you out of it myself.”

  Good Lord. The man had all but threatened her—improperly, at that—and here she stood, feeling soft, and achy and...thrilled.

  “I don’t think—”

  “That’s right, baby. Don’t think. Just get a move on before that Woodstock relic makes up the distance I took great care to put between us.”

  She ought to demand that he take her home, ought to be seriously concerned that she was out of her mind for even considering sticking with him.

  But she couldn’t go back—not knowing what or who awaited her. And yet...

  “Why, Tanner? Why are you helping me?”

  He shrugged. “I got time on my hands.”

  His words were flippant, as if he didn’t give a damn one way or the other. But for an instant, his gaze rested on her hair like the caress of a soft breeze, making a lie of his tough-guy terseness. That telling glimpse of the gentle man behind the mask confused her even more.

  He was like a spirited stallion—gorgeous to look at, with steady brown eyes that could mesmerize, yet one wrong move, a careless disregarding of the rules, and the beast would emerge. She had to wonder if she was woman enough to handle a man like Tanner Caldwell, to find out what truly made him tick.

  And she also had to wonder why she’d even think to try.

  “A lot of people have time on their hands.”

  He glanced up at the clear blue sky. “Maybe I object to people taking away a person’s freedom of choice. To brides being threatened by guns.”

  So did she—especially when she was the bride. Still, this being-on-the-run stuff was out of her realm of experience. As though he’d read her mind, his brow quirked.

  “It’s me or them, Blackie,” he said softly. “What do you say?”

  “Obviously I’ve chosen you or I wouldn’t be standing here contemplating hocking my wedding dress.”

  “Smart move. Because I am your best bet. Trust me, I’ve got more experience in this sort of thing.” He took her arm and ushered her across the street.

  “I hope they have a phone in there.”

  “Forget it. No phone calls.”

  Her steps faltered. Had she jumped from the lifeboat into the bloodied shark-infested waters? “But I’ve got to find out what happened after we left. I’ve got to let somebody know—”

  “Let’s deal with one thing at a time. Like becoming a little less conspicuous.”

  Although she didn’t care for his bossiness, he appeared to have her best interests in mind. And any minute now, that van decorated with peace symbols and garish flowers could show up.

  Jordan had never been inside a pawnshop. Cramped and cluttered, it smelled musty and carried a little of everything, from a rack of cheap clothing to expensive guitars and flashy watches.

  “See if you can find some clothes to fit,” Tanner suggested. “I’ll go talk to the owner.”

  With her head pounding in earnest, Jordan picked out a pair of plain-label jeans and a sleeveless denim shirt, then went into the small, dank dressing alcove protected by a threadbare curtain. She kept Tanner’s clothes with her just in case these other “hand-medowns” wouldn’t do.

  It was a tight fit in the cubicle, and she soon realized she had a major problem. Tiny, genuine cultured pearls formed a row of buttons down her back from her neck to her hips.

  Her mother had helped her into the elaborate dress.

  She’d counted on Randall to help her out of it.

  On their wedding night.

  Tonight.

  And the man not five feet away on the other side of this dingy curtain was not her intended husband.

  He was the stuff of her fantasies.

  She clenched her fingers to keep them from trembling, felt herself growing hotter in the airless cubicle. How in the world was she supposed to undo thirty-three buttons? She debated for several minutes, staring at her reflection in the cloudy mirror. Her cheeks were flushed, her pupils dilated—from the dim interior, she told herself. Her body’s reaction had nothing to do with her t
houghts.

  Thoughts of Tanner’s fingers against her skin.

  Last night she wouldn’t have thought twice about flirting, daring him to put his hands on her.

  Today was a different matter.

  Nerves crowded in her throat. She reached back and made an awkward attempt at extracting the tiny pearls from their satin loops. Her elbows smacked the walls. Her upswept hair, loosened by the wild motorcycle ride, clung to her damp neck.

  With her stomach twisted into knots of frustration, she managed all of two buttons, then gave up.

  Turning, she stared at the moth-eaten curtain. He’d said ten minutes. She knew enough about Tanner Caldwell to know he was as good as his word. If he thought she was stalling, he wouldn’t hesitate to come in after her.

  Little did he know, she wasn’t stalling. She was in trouble. Trouble with her thoughts, with her runaway hormones, and with this damned expensive wedding dress.

  She was out of both time and options. Clenching her fist, she peeked around the edge of the curtain.

  Tanner was leaning lazily against the wall, his eyes trained on the thin barrier that separated them. Their gazes locked. His brow rose.

  He pushed off the wall and slowly crossed the store, his loose-hipped stride both casual and aggressive.

  Her heart pounded harder.

  “Something wrong, party girl?”

  “I wish you’d stop calling me that.”

  He stared at her, his whiskey eyes giving away nothing.

  She released a frustrated breath. “I...I can’t get my dress undone.”

  A heartbeat of silence fell, heavy and expectant, in the stuffy pawnshop.

  “Are you asking me to take your clothes off?” His voice was soft, taunting.

  She nearly swooned at the look of blatant sexuality in his eyes. Shaking her head, disgusted by her fanciful imagination, she turned her back to him, snatching the hem of her dress out of the way. “Just undo me.”

  “My pleasure.”

  She felt his fingers at her neck, caressing. Her spine stiffened as involuntary chills chased down her arms, over her breasts, tightening her nipples.

  “Relax. I’m not into audiences.”

  Oh, hell. She’d forgotten about the clerk. “Maybe you’d better come in here and close the curtain.” She didn’t bother to tell him she wasn’t wearing a bra. He’d find out soon enough as it was.