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

by Mindy Neff

  Relief strengthened Jordan’s determination. “Then, as gently as possible, I think you should tell him your part in this whole scheme.”

  Lydia’s features crumpled as tears spilled over her lids, leaving shiny tracks in the matte of her face powder. “Oh, Jordan. I can’t. What will he think of me? I did this for you—and for him. But I’m ashamed.” She gripped the back of the damaskcovered chair, her shoulders sagging as if weighted down by a burden too heavy to be borne. “I’m just so used to keeping up appearances.”

  Jordan touched her mother’s arm, offering comfort, her anger vanishing at the sheer distress on her mother’s beautiful face.

  “We shouldn’t have to keep up appearances, Mother. I’ve been guilty of the same thing, myself, and I intend to change that.” Her voice softened. “Besides, Daddy loves you...and so do I.”

  “I’m so sorry for the mess I’ve caused. I only want your happiness, honey.”

  “I know, Mother.” She wrapped her arms around Lydia, the familiar scent of Chanel bringing tears to her eyes. She was about to take a really big step, and frankly, it scared the daylights out of her. “And it’s about time I took care of that happiness.”

  Lydia nodded, her eyes reflecting the true understanding of a mother. “Whatever you decide, I’ll be here for you.”

  Jordan went out to the stables and used the phone there to make two calls. At last she was taking her life into her own hands—determined to live it for herself.

  LUCKILY, RANDALL DIDN’T have any power lunches scheduled, and he made it out to the ranch within a half hour.

  Jordan stepped outside the cool interior of the stables into the bright June sunshine and watched as he got out of his champagne-colored Mercedes. He really was a good man. Handsome. Gentle. Unassuming.

  Why couldn’t she love him?

  “How’s it going, beautiful?” Randall gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, grinned, then blew the smooth act by sneezing.

  “Oh, Randall, I forgot about your allergies. I should have driven into town instead of having you come out here.”

  “No. This is fine. I took an antihistamine and it should kick in any time now.”

  He was so accommodating, Jordan thought she might cry. She swallowed and swiped at a fly that buzzed near her hair.

  “You shouldn’t have to live on allergy medication just to be around me.”

  “It’s not that big a deal.” He glanced at his watch.

  “Isn’t it? Randall, do you really want to marry me?”

  “Of course—”

  She touched the sleeve of his light gray suit. “Really, Randall? Please be honest.”

  He hedged, clearly caught off guard. His sky-blue eyes sharpened. “Are you saying you don’t want to get married?”

  Answering a question with a question was a sure indication of what she’d expected. His feelings were not engaged. Not in the way they should have been. But Randall was ever diplomatic. He wouldn’t needlessly cause pain.

  “I hadn’t said it yet, but yes,” she admitted. “That about sums it up.”

  He looked a little surprised, a little unsure, but not hurt.

  “You don’t love me, Randall.” She held up her hand when he started to speak. “And I care for you, but I can’t love you the way you deserve. You’re looking for a wife as an ornament who’ll make you look settled in the eyes of your constituents. You don’t need that, Randall...or me. You’re a good man and your qualifications will speak for themselves.”

  He stared at her for a long moment. “I think that’s what drew me to you. Your unswerving belief in the people you care about.”

  She tried for a smile. “That and the fact that the town expected us to be a couple?”

  He chuckled. “A little like a comfortable old shoe, huh? Which, when examined in the bright sunlight, doesn’t sound too complimentary.” He glanced past her, looking at the stables that had always been her first and fiercest love. “Is it Caldwell?”

  Just the mention of Tanner’s name made her insides flutter. She nodded, surprised that he’d been astute enough, after all, to pick up on the undercurrents.

  With a soft kiss on the back of her hand that stirred nothing stronger than the feeling of hugging a teddy bear, he said, “I hereby release you from your promise to marry me.”

  “Oh, that sounds awful. Broken promises. I’ve never—”

  “I know,” he interrupted. “Actually, I’ve got a job offer in the city. It’ll bring me closer to where I want to be politically. I wasn’t going to accept right away—at least, not until we’d settled a bit into the marriage, but now I think it’s best. I’ll do what I can about your father’s loan.”

  Her eyes stung. “You don’t need to. I’ve figured a way to cover him.”

  “You sure?”

  She nodded.

  “Okay. But if you ever need me... Well, keep in touch.”

  She kissed his cheek and watched as he got into his car and gave a jaunty wave. There was sadness—yes, a natural feeling when anything comes to an end. Sadness that though they’d tried, there just wasn’t enough substance to keep a relationship like theirs afloat. Sadness about change.

  And fear over that change, too.

  Because ending her relationship with Randall was a speck of dust compared to the monumental step she was about to take.

  She turned and made her way to Bleu’s stall. Opening the latched door, she slipped her arms around the stallion’s neck, pressed her face to his warm, sleek coat...and wept.

  “I love you, Bleu.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Tanner had spent a week with the wind in his face and speed at his heels, trying to outrun the demons. The pain of being alone. Again.

  And by God, it wasn’t working. He couldn’t do it, couldn’t run far enough or fast enough. He couldn’t give Jordan up without a fight.

  The hypnotic streak of white lines on asphalt were a crooked blur now as he swung the Harley in a tight circle and poured on the speed in earnest. With purpose.

  Pride was for idiots and he wasn’t going to let it stand in his way any longer. He was in love with Jordan Grazer and it was time he told her so. If he had to kidnap her from the church steps a second time, he’d do it.

  He had money and Jordan should know it. Grazer should know it. He’d make Maynard Grazer see that he was somebody, that he was right for Jordan. Even if he had to sit on the man to do it.

  Background or not, no one would love her like he did. That should count for something in a parent’s eyes.

  In record time, he was pulling off the highway, passing under the arched sign that proclaimed Grazer’s stables and vineyards. He drove right up to the front door, beneath the fancy portico, booted the kickstand and hit the kill switch.

  His knuckles stung with the force he used to rap on the double-door entry.

  The door swung wide and the housekeeper’s jaw dropped as he strode right past her. “Jordan!”

  “She’s not... She’s—”

  “Where is she?” Without waiting for a reply, he headed for the first hall that looked like it would lead to bedrooms.

  “Wait!” Bess said, wringing her hands. “You mustn’t—”

  “Here, now, what’s all the commotion?”

  Tanner stopped, changed directions and came face-to-face with Maynard Grazer.

  “Where’s Jordan? And don’t tell me you don’t know.”

  Maynard hung his head. “That’s exactly what I’m about to tell you.”

  Tanner was a breath away from losing his temper. Maynard’s next words stopped him cold.

  “You’ve saved me a lot of grief trying to track you down, and I’m glad as hell you’re here now.”

  It was an effort not to let his astonishment show. But Tanner had learned never to trust an opponent. A person could stick you with a knife and smile while the blood ran.

  “You were looking for me? Well, I’m here now. But I’m not in the mood for a civilized chat.”

  �
�I figured as much. And I don’t blame you.” Maynard gestured toward the den. “Why don’t you step in here.”

  Tanner did, noticing that Maynard looked pale and agitated. He didn’t know what possessed him to go to the sideboard and pour ice water into a crystal tumbler, but he did and handed it to his old nemesis.

  “Thank you.” Maynard drank, then set the glass aside.

  “Where’s Jordan?”

  “She’s gone. That’s why I was attempting to contact you.”

  “She’s not with me.” Tanner’s insides went from irritation to terror in record time. “When’s the last time you saw her?” His voice softened dangerously. To those who knew him, it was a tone that could well describe a lethally coiled snake about to strike. “I want details, man.”

  “And I’ll give you what I’ve got. The last time I saw her was right here in this den, early this morning—when she handed me a check from the sale of her stallion.”

  Stunned, Tanner wasn’t even aware of dropping into a chair until he felt the support of leather beneath his thighs. “She what?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Jordan wouldn’t sell Honor Bleu. Not for anything.”

  “She would and she did. For you. Now I aim to get the damned beast back.”

  Tanner’s mind was snagged a whole sentence behind. “What do you mean she sold the horse for me?”

  “Not just the horse. She sold all her jewelry, and her car. Plunked down a check that damned near made my eyes pop out and told me I was a jackass—”

  When Tanner frowned skeptically, Maynard backtracked.

  “Well, she didn’t exactly call me one, but the implication was there. She said the money was to pay for your debt and that if I had any decency in my heart, I’d consider the Caldwell part in our financial downfall square.”

  “My debt?” Tanner’s grip tightened on the chair. He wasn’t going to let the old shame take hold. He wasn’t going to shoulder the blame or allow anyone to make him feel less of a man.

  Obviously Maynard wasn’t going to heap it. He held up a hand. “Hear me out before you comment. That’s a damned feisty girl I raised and she’s right more times than not. She said with this money, there wouldn’t be any need for a bank loan—of which she was the collateral.”

  Tanner raised a brow, but refrained from commenting.

  “My little girl told me in no uncertain terms that you might not have a whole lot of money, but that you’ve got more integrity than the whole bunch of us put together.”

  “Well, she might be a little off on the money reference.”

  Maynard didn’t appear to hear, apparently still determined to relate every one of the sins Jordan had laid at his feet.

  “I’m ashamed to admit that she was right about my lack of integrity. It took her selling that horse she loves so much to make me realize a few home truths. I cut corners and was underinsured when the fire wiped out the vineyards. I needed someone to blame, and you and your father were handy. I’m sorry for that. You deserved a better shake than I gave you.”

  “My father was drunk on the job, Maynard. You were well within your rights to fire him. I’d have done the same.”

  “Thank you for that. I don’t expect you to excuse my behavior, but I’d like a chance to get to know you, Tanner. Any man who can affect my daughter so profoundly has to have high qualities. And for her sake, as well as my own, I’d like to try and form a friendship with you. But it’ll have to wait for a bit. Right now, my priority is finding out where Samuel Bartholomew lives and buying back a certain stallion.”

  “Mr. B. bought her horse?” The sly old fox hadn’t said a word. Of course, Tanner had been busy licking his wounds, itching to run. He should have known Samuel would come to Jordan’s rescue.

  “Yes. And he paid top dollar, too. But I can’t let her give up that horse. I’ve got to get it back.”

  Tanner thought about his pride again. If he’d just told her about his money, none of this would have happened. Then again, maybe it would have. She wouldn’t have accepted his money to bail her father out.

  She’d needed to do that on her own.

  But she’d had to shoulder too much, be too much for too many people. It was going to stop. They’d probably butt heads over what she would consider interference—and that was fine. He’d enjoy the skirmish.

  “You were looking for a loan from a son-inlaw,” Tanner said. “I intend to be yours. I’ll get the horse back.”

  “Yes. That’ll be faster. You know right where your friend lives.” Maynard didn’t even blink at Tanner’s bold statement of intent. He merely held out the cashier’s check that Jordan had given him.

  It was a minute before Tanner could corral his surprise. “No. You keep that money. Consider it an investment. The investment you put into Jordan. It’s obvious those years were grounded in love. She turned out to be one hell of a woman.”

  “But—”

  “Reinvest the money into Grazer’s holdings, Maynard. Build up your reserves. The horse will be my wedding gift to Jordan.”

  Maynard frowned. “I’ll tell you right off that you have my blessing to marry my daughter. But can you afford such a purchase?”

  Tanner hadn’t asked for his blessing. That he’d gotten it—and before Maynard knew Tanner’s true financial standing—went a long way to healing the rift that had begun so many years ago.

  He grinned and rapped his knuckles on Maynard’s desk. “I can afford it. Without it even making a ripple.”

  A LOW, THUNDEROUS rumble split the peacefulness of the little town. Jordan’s heart leaped into her throat and her fingers curled around the cool satin of the wedding gown draped over her arm.

  Shading her eyes, almost afraid to hope, she stood poised outside the pawnshop, reluctant to take that last step off the curb.

  The din grew louder, vibrating in her chest, winging through her fluttering heart.

  And that was when she saw him. Windswept hair flowed behind him as he negotiated the powerful machine around the corner. Sunlight glanced off the gleaming chrome of the Harley-Davidson, outlining the impatience, the exquisitely determined features of his warrior’s face.

  He looked like a man bent on abduction. And Jordan figured she just might stand still for Tanner Caldwell’s brand of stealing.

  Because he’d stolen her heart some fifteen years back.

  Mindful of her toes, she stayed where she was, bare inches from the curb, her gaze still riveted on the man she intended to persuade into marriage.

  He crossed the yellow dividing lines of the asphalt—illegally—and came to an impressive, cocky halt, right in her pathway, shutting off the engine.

  “How’s it going, party girl?” Leaning his forearms on the handlebars, he gave her a wicked grin. “Heard you’re a little short on wheels. Need a ride?”

  Those killer dimples winked and her insides fluttered wildly. “I might.”

  “Where you headed?”

  “Across the street.” Coherency was next to impossible. Her mouth was as dry as dust and her palms were damp. She gave it a shot anyway. “There’s a shop that specializes in dresses from around the country. I thought I’d see what kind of price I can get for this.” With a nod of her head, she indicated the gown that was draped over her arm.

  “Seems we’ve already been through a fair amount of grief over that dress and my bike. I don’t suppose you’d stuff it in my duffel?”

  Oh, she wanted to return that wicked smile. But he was way too sure of himself as it was. “Don’t suppose.”

  He pulled his wallet out of his hip pocket. “How much?”

  “For what?”

  “The dress. I’ll buy it. That way I can stuff the damned thing anywhere I want.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You can’t afford to be buying used wedding gowns.”

  “Don’t bet on it, baby. How much?”

  Okay. She’d play. “They gave me fifty to start with. It cost me seventy to get it back.”

  He gave
a low whistle. “Should’ve never told the guy its true worth. I’ll give you an even grand.” He reached for her hand and slapped ten crisp onehundred-dollar bills in her palm. Before she could protest or shut her slack jaw, he snatched the dress and crammed it into his duffel.

  “Your mouth’s hanging open, Blackie,” he noted casually. “Did I forget to tell you I’m a flashy security expert? I’m even listed on the stock exchange.” The dress didn’t all fit in the khaki duffel. He didn’t seem to care. “Get on.”

  Jordan shook her head, stunned. The stock exchange?

  He sighed and fired the engine, then took the matter entirely out of her hands when he grabbed her arm and swung her on in front of him.

  “What are you doing?” She scrambled for something to hold on to, then settled for the gas cap on the shiny black tank. An impromptu saddle horn, she thought, feeling a swift pang over giving up her horse.

  He gunned the engine and brought the bike up to speed. “Grab the controls.”

  Surely she hadn’t heard him correctly.

  “I’m letting go,” he warned, his breath warm against her ear.

  “Do you have a death wish?” In a flash, her hands were on that bar. The jerky transition goosed the acceleration.

  “No. More like a lifetime one.” Now that his own hands were free, he wasted no time in caressing her thighs.

  With her heart pounding like a winning Thoroughbred at Saratoga, and horribly afraid she’d send them into the ditch, she eased her grip on the throttle. The Harley slowed. She’d had it all planned. She would sell the dress, find Tanner, present him with the money and her heart, and beg him if need be to live happily ever after with her. Even if they had to do it in semi-poverty.

  Her script had just been shredded beyond recognition. And she felt terribly off-balance.

  “What’s going on, Tanner?”

  “You’re kidnapping me.”

  “I am not.”

  “Looks that way to me. You’re at the controls. A little more throttle, Blackie,” he coached.

  She twisted the rubber grip, secretly thrilled that he automatically assumed she could handle his powerful machine. He knew her well; knew that she rarely left anything to chance, that she preferred being the one who held the reins. By giving up the controls, he was letting her lead—to a point.