Free for the Wedding

by Briggs, Laura

  You’re probably feeling sorry for me right now, and kind of worried that I’m an obsessed stalker. Don’t be–I’ve already left.”

  “What?” She gasped, her heart seeming to stop. Eyes scanning the last part with a sense of urgency.

  “I want you to know that I’m not bitter about that last conversation in the lounge. What you said hurt, but only because it was partly true. Music is my passion, not software, and you helped me see that.

  What I said to you was true also. Some things can't be avoided, no matter how we try. Like my being attracted to someone as great as you.

  As of Monday, I’m going to be as courageous as you and pursue my destiny. I’m handing in my resignation at Solar Systems–they can keep the big client, all I want is a radio booth.”

  That was it.

  Except for the pain that filled her chest, the sense of longing she couldn’t deny a second longer. The letter fluttered to the floor as Val turned and ran down the hall.

  *****

  “Checked out? But when?”

  Val leaned across the reception desk, straining for a view of the computer screen. As the hostess stroked fingers over a keyboard to reveal a list of names and times. “Mr. Cohen departed fifteen minutes ago.”

  Then there was still time to catch him, perhaps, if she knew where to look. “Did he mention anything…leave any message behind? An address for lost items, maybe?”

  A stupid sounding question, the clerk making it plain she felt so too. Her expression was pinched as she said, “No message. If it helps, he asked for walking directions to the nearest bus stop.”

  He didn’t take the car? Of course he didn’t. The keys were still in her bag, which, thankfully, hung from her shoulder at this moment.

  “Where is the bus stop?” Val demanded. Clinging to the desk as a pair of newly arrived customers tried to inch her aside.

  “Three miles,” the desk clerk informed her dryly. “On South Eighty.”

  Val ran through the parking lot as swiftly as her high heels allowed. Glancing wildly round for the rented Mercury Marquis as she turned in half-circles. It seemed ages since she parked it, her memory leading her down two wrong rows.

  Until she spotted it–right behind the loading zone. A florist van and two catering trucks blocking the path to freedom.

  They would have to move. Immediately.

  She turned blindly in the direction of the hotel, nearly colliding with a tall figure in a tuxedo. The groom’s hands reached to study her with a touch that held neither the brusqueness nor tenderness of the last few days.

  His mouth formed a sheepish smile as he spoke. “Just the person I’m looking for. To apologize that is. You really saved me, Val. Really. Until I talked to you, I didn't realize how much I loved her.”

  “I’m glad. Really glad," she answered. She couldn't disguise her flustered feelings, even in front of Jason's warmth. “But Jason, I have to go somewhere right now. It’s an emergency and I can’t get my car out–”

  “Take mine,” he offered, in a tone that suggested her problem was the simplest in the world. Automatically feeling for the keys before absently snapping his fingers. “I forgot–the best man has it. He just left to pick up my parents at the airport.”

  Despair flooded her, along with a feeling the universe was against her. Fate and destiny saved one relationship, only to squash another to even the score.

  “Great,” she moaned, burying her face in despair. “Riley’s gone and now I can't even tell him…” She paused. "I can't even tell him how I truly feel," she finished.

  “Listen,” said Jason, digging through his pockets, “I can’t get you a car but you’re welcome to take the bike. If you know how to handle it, that is.”

  Val stared at the keys he plopped in her hand. Her eyes following his motion to a nearby parking space, where a green motorbike gleamed in the sun. Sleek and sporty, with a “Just Married” sign and tin cans affixed to the back.

  Drive a motorbike? In heels and a formal dress?

  “Ever ride one?” he asked, doubt lacing his voice.

  She nodded. “A few times. My dad owned one for awhile.”

  As in two months, in which Val had gone for a spin a handful of times, squealing for most of the duration. And that was just riding in the back yard.

  Glancing from the keys to the bike, Val sucked in a breath. “Does it come with a helmet?”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Val gripped the handles to the motorbike, her foot riding the accelerator with a strange sense of urgency. Thoughts flying through her mind like the breeze that whipped her hair as it streamed from beneath the helmet. The purr of the bike’s engine a rhythm to her beating heart as she scanned the stretch of highway for a familiar figure.

  What if someone gave him a ride? Or he changed his mind and called a cab, or simply took a different route?

  All questions pounding in her brain as she drove along, the force of her goal enough to block her fears of totaling the bike with her amateur skills.

  Please, please it’s not too late. A hopeful prayer as she rounded the curve, her foot pushing the brake pad as the bend in the road deepened.

  The scenery changed slightly with the turn, billboards and business signs appearing along the horizon. And a figure on foot, a duffel bag and faded knapsack slung across their shoulder.

  Val zoomed ahead of them, flicking her turn signal as she pulled to the shoulder of the road. Disembarking from the motorbike with care, her high heel clad feet wobbled with the transition. One hand pulled the helmet from her hair as she turned to face the approaching figure.

  With mere yards between them, he stopped. Disbelief flashed in the brown eyes that studied Val as if she were a mirage in a desert landscape.

  His gaze shifted from her to the bike and back again. “You probably have something to say to me,” he guessed. A cautious edge in the flippant observation.

  “You left me a note,” she said. Her voice broke on the last word, a pause required before she could finish, “I had to give you an answer.”

  "You did?" he sounded surprised. "But I thought–I mean, you didn't say anything yesterday."

  "Do you want it or not?" she asked, blinking back tears as she stepped closer. "I mean, I borrowed a bike, I tore out of that hotel to find you."

  He automatically held out a hand, as if expecting to receive a note in return for his own.

  She took hold of his fingers. Holding them tightly, using them to draw him closer as the distance between them shrank into nothing. Her lips pressed against his own, not with hesitation but with force.

  The motion deepened, her hands cradling his face tenderly.

  Riley’s bags slid to the ground. His arms twining round her shoulders, holding her tightly in response. When he pulled away, his dark brown eyes searched hers as if seeking proof that what just happened was real.

  “I thought you loved him," he said. "I thought you loved Jason–I mean, that night by the pond–”

  “I did,” she answered. “Thirteen years ago, when I kept that note. And a part of me still did, until I knew that his heart really belonged to someone else. And that–" her voice trembled, "–and that mine was falling for someone else, too."

  Her fingers interlaced with his own again, one arm still around his neck. "You were right. Destiny should take its own course.” Her gaze explored his own, hoping he would read the same feelings as the ones in his note. “Some things are bound to happen no matter what you do.”

  A faint smile began to form on his lips, a look of wonder and surprise like the one she had seen moments after Hammond closed the deal.

  "So you actually chased me down?" he asked. "You did that–for me?" His eyes returned to the bike as Val dangled the keys in a question.

  “Need a ride?” she asked. Lips curving upward in a warm smile. “It comes with two helmets.”

  “Sounds like destiny to me,” he answered.

  Leaning down, he let his lips brush her own, her skin tingling
with anticipation of the kiss. Behind them, a breeze rattled the motorbike’s tin cans, the poster board placard that said “Just Married" fluttering like a celebratory banner.

  Excerpt from the bestselling, lighthearted romance Late to the Wedding

  Rain drops speckled the car’s dusty hood, a blip of lightening flashing in the distance. “How do you moderate this thing?” Evelyn asked, studying the faded labels for the temperature selections. “Is there a secret code, a special rotation, like a safe?”

  The only answer was the wind whistling loudly against the windows, which seemed helpless to block any kind of noise from the outside. She glanced over to find her driver seemingly oblivious, eyes narrowed at the dark scenery ahead. “How do you work the air?” she repeated, this time at a volume he couldn’t possibly miss.

  “Not by screaming in my ear, when I can already hear every word you say. Including the one’s you murmured in your sleep this afternoon. His name’s Jared, right?”

  She gasped, losing her grip on the map laying across her knees. “That–that’s eavesdropping! And everyone knows dreams don’t mean anything, anyway.” Her face was flaming as she turned back to the dashboard. “Are you going to help me with the air, or should I roll the window down?”

  “Stop fiddling with it,” he said, batting her fingers away from the knobs. “You’ll make it worse. I know all the car’s quirks, and you’re only confusing its system by changing the settings every two seconds.”

  “But it’s freezing in here.” She inched the switch towards the heating side, a worn red stripe giving a clue to its purpose. “I keep expecting to see my breath.”

  “Quit exaggerating.” A blast of wind jerked the car to the side, edging it over the center of the road. “Besides,” he added, “I’ve got a jacket in the trunk if you’re really that cold. The next time we stop I’ll get it out.”

  Lightening crackled, the old Sedan struggling to regain its correct lane. “C’mon,” Brian muttered, spinning the wheel around. His foot tapping against the brake as a sizable tree branch blew across the road a few yards ahead.

  Evelyn waved her hands in front of the vent system. “I think it’s working. Or maybe it’s just getting weaker.”

  “Turn it off, alright? You’re gonna burn us up putting on the heater and I don’t–”

  Whump!

  The sound of a dead chicken hitting the windshield.

  Their screams were simultaneous, with Evelyn digging her fingernails into his arm, as the car swerved towards the ditch. It skidded back onto the road seconds later in a wild U-turn motion, Brian whipping the steering wheel hard against the force of the ever-increasing wind. The motor picked up speed in time for a sudden downpour of hail, which dinged against the metal vehicle like a torrent of ping pong balls.

  For the next few minutes, they tore along the dirt road at sixty miles per hour, the car’s rickety frame bouncing off gravel and groups of rocks. “Maybe you should try aiming for the potholes instead,” Evelyn yelled above the roar of hail and thunder, clinging for dear life to the door handle.

  “Hang on!” he called. “We’ve got to outrun this storm. I think it must have rotation or something.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut, mouthing a prayer. Her deep breathing exercises from yoga sessions forgotten, as a tight feeling gripped her chest, her heart pounding out of control. She couldn’t die like this–trapped in a car with a guy she barely knew, stranded on a stretch of forgotten roadway. All while the love of her life prepared to say ‘til death’ with someone else.

  Something seized hold of the Sedan, spinning it in swift jerks like a giant child's hand operating a top. With a scream, Evelyn seized the door's arm rest and held onto it tightly; beside her, Brian gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles were white, face set with grim determination. She was aware that he was no longer controlling the car, but that another force was–the same force that tossed a tree trunk across the road, dissolved the barn in the field ahead like a cloud of debris swept away.

  The car spun towards the ditch, Evelyn's eyes closing as protection against dizziness. She felt the thud of impact as the tires struck dirt, jerking her body forward in her seat.

  A hand touched her arm. “It’s okay,” Brian’s voice was muffled, the words barely audible above the roar of the wind. It died to a gentle murmur after a moment, along with the roar and crackle of the storm. Brian's free hand rested upon the steering wheel.

  "What was that?" Her voice was weak. It was a long moment before Brian spoke again, his face noticeably pale.

  "I think that was a tornado," he answered.

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