A Bride for Jericho Bravo

by Christine Rimmer

  Finally, she had to cut in. “Grandpa, I—”

  “…and then Gina told me I had to be more patient with those boys and I said, ‘Don’t talk to me about patience, woman. If Brady and Craig don’t start behavin’ themselves, I can’t be responsible for what I might—’”

  “Grandpa!”

  “Eh? What? You say somethin’, gal? You speak up now, you hear?”

  “Grandpa, I need to get back to work now!”

  “What? Work? Well, why didn’t you say so? Okay, then. You take good care of yourself and your sister, and I’ll be talkin’ to you later.” He said goodbye and hung up, which made her smile. Her grandpa would blather on for hours. But he’d never been one to prolong a goodbye.

  She made it back to SA Choppers in plenty of time. The first thing she did when she got there was enter her new phone number in the employee database. And when Gus appeared, she wrote the number down for him personally, so if he needed to reach her, he could.

  Then she called Jericho up in his workshop. He didn’t answer. Probably had the welding torch going, with the rock and roll up good and high. She left him a message, telling him again what a great time she’d had that weekend, adding her new phone number at the end.

  He called her about five minutes after that. “Just checking to see if this new number works. How about tonight? Six. We could ride for an hour or two.”

  She said yes before he finished asking her.

  They rode until eight. In the deepening darkness, he followed her on his chopper to the guesthouse. She cooked a quick dinner for both of them and then took him to bed.

  It was so good, to have his big hands on her. When he was touching her, she could forget everything: Mark’s desperate, lonely voice on the phone, her fast-approaching return to California, where she had no idea what she was going to do with herself.

  Everything. All of it just…faded away. There was only the heat of him, the tenderness, the pleasure he brought.

  She must have fallen asleep afterward, because she woke up from a dream where she was trying to tell Mark, again, how it was over. Really over, and she didn’t want to see him.

  When she opened her eyes, Jericho was getting dressed, moving silently in the dark bedroom, already in his jeans, but still barefoot, his T-shirt gathered on his big arms as he straightened them overhead.

  “You’re going…” she whispered. She didn’t mean to sound wistful—but she supposed that she did.

  He dropped to the edge of the bed, the T-shirt still wadded, trapping his arms. And then he swore, a very bad word. He shoved the T-shirt down his arms and tossed it to the floor.

  She sat up and reached out, laying a tentative hand on his back, between his shoulder blades, right over the beautiful eagle tattoo. “What? What’s the matter?”

  He turned his lowered head to glance her way. “You been thinking about Mark a lot lately?”

  She blinked. And she knew her face had gone bright red, though maybe the room was dark enough that he couldn’t see the flush flooding upward over her cheeks.

  He said, “Tonight’s the second time you said his name in your sleep.”

  She groaned. “Oh, God. At the cabin…?”

  He grunted, turned his face away from her again—and nodded. “I gotta tell you. I understand, but still. It’s kind of a turnoff, you thinking of another guy when you’re in bed with me.”

  “But I don’t. I swear I don’t. When you’re touching me, there’s no one. No one in the world but you…”

  He laughed, a low, ironic sound, and shook his head. “Marnie. You say his name in your sleep.”

  She shoved the covers back and swung her bare feet over the edge, so she was sitting beside him. “I’ve known Mark since I was nine.”

  “What? That’s supposed to make it okay?”

  “No, no of course not. But most of my life, he was there, you know? At the cabin, I was dreaming of when we were kids, of something that really happened once. Mark slid down a hillside covered with shiny-leafed bushes and ended up in bed for two weeks with a really bad case of poison oak. In the dream, I was trying to call to him, to warn him to watch his step…” She couldn’t help it. She had to reach out again. She brushed her hand down Jericho’s heavily muscled arm.

  And her heart gave a glad little lurch when he let her take his hand.

  He said, “You got to admit. A shrink would have a field day with that dream.”

  “Maybe. I don’t know. But I do know I’m never going back to Mark, that it wasn’t right between us.”

  Do you? That little voice in her head challenged. Do you really know you’ll never go back?

  She tuned out the voice, put it firmly on ignore.

  Jericho turned her hand over, lifted it, sank his teeth gently into the fleshy pad at the base of her thumb. It felt so good, she had to swallow a moan.

  “And tonight,” he said gruffly. “What were you dreaming about tonight?”

  “I don’t remember exactly. Mark was yelling at me. I was begging him to leave me alone.”

  “Did he leave you alone?”

  “It was all pretty fuzzy. I woke up with no…resolution, the way it usually is in a dream.”

  “Marnie. Come on. Give it to me straight.”

  She realized then that she wasn’t going to be able to just forget about Mark’s call yesterday. It wouldn’t be right, to leave Jericho in the dark about what was going on. Even if her relationship with him had a time limit on it, it still mattered to her. He mattered. A lot.

  “Okay,” she said. “I don’t know why I dreamed about him when we were at the cabin. But as for the dream tonight, well, he called me yesterday, after you dropped me off. He asked me to try again with him.”

  Jericho pulled his hand free of hers. “And you said?”

  “I said no. I said I wanted him to leave me alone. I said it very clearly. And then I hung up.”

  “Did he believe you?”

  “Give me your damn hand back, please.” She spoke through clenched teeth.

  He shocked the hell out of her by doing just that.

  She laced their fingers together and held on tight. “I have no idea what Mark believes. What he said is that he’s having second thoughts, having trouble accepting that it’s really over between us, that he…” She almost faltered. But no. It was better, just to get it all out. “…that he wanted to marry me.”

  Jericho said nothing for a moment. And then, finally, bleakly, “Marriage.”

  “Yeah. It’s pretty incredible that he’d do that, actually. When we were together, I wanted to get married and he was always putting it off.”

  “Maybe he’s seen the light.”

  “Yeah. Right.”

  “Maybe he doesn’t believe you really mean it when you tell him you’re through with him.”

  “But I do mean it. And I told him so, repeatedly. And then I hung up. I don’t see how much clearer I can make it.” She clutched his hand, hard, against her belly. “So. Can we forget about Mark now?”

  “I can. I don’t know about you.” He spoke flatly, but when he turned to her, she saw that the ghost of a smile haunted the corner of his mouth.

  She whispered, “What I do know. What I have zero doubt about, is that there is no man in the world I would rather be with right this minute than you. There is no man who does for me what you can do. There is no man, ever, who has given me so much pleasure. Such fun. Such…honesty. And such a damn fine time—all of it. Every minute with you is the best minute I ever had.” I wish it could go on forever, she thought, but didn’t quite have the guts to add.

  He said, “You sound like you mean that.”

  “Because I do.”

  He hooked his free hand around the back of her neck and pulled her close to him. “I guess I can hang around here a little while longer.”

  “Now you’re talkin’,” she whispered, as he covered her mouth with his.

  After Marnie told him about the ex’s phone call, about how the guy had begged h
er to take him back, Jericho knew it was only a matter of time before Mark Drury showed up in San Antonio. As he saw it, the only way that wouldn’t happen was if she left for California first.

  The End was coming much too fast.

  Jericho thought about how they should maybe call it quits now, that she probably could use a little time without him in her bed every night. Time to figure out what she really wanted. Time to have her answer ready when the ex showed up to plead his case.

  Yeah. Jericho thought about that.

  But he didn’t break it off with her. Screw the ex. Jericho had three more weeks with her. He wasn’t volunteering to give up a single day. Marnie would have to make that call.

  She didn’t. She came to work as usual Tuesday morning and he was in her bed Tuesday night. They took the choppers out for long rides after work twice more that week. He was having the time of his life and she seemed to be enjoying herself, too.

  Saturday morning, he and Gus drove the charity-ball chopper over to the five-star hotel where the big party was being set up. The ballroom was packed with catering people and organizers from the Texas State Endowment. Up on the stage at one end, technicians were doing sound checks and moving equipment around.

  His mother was there, which he’d expected. Aleta Bravo was born with a silver spoon in her mouth and a Junior League membership card in her hand. For this event, she would be representing the sponsor, the family company, BravoCorp.

  She’d always had eyes in the back of her head. Maybe that came from raising nine kids and living to tell about it. She spotted them about forty seconds after they entered the ballroom. And she came right for them, weaving her way toward them through the crowd of setup people, his sister Zoe and a couple of Blue Hairs in tow.

  The Blue Hairs were charity ladies who worked for the Endowment. Zoe was there to set up her little slide show that went with the bike. His mother hugged him and then hugged Gus. She introduced them to the Blue Hairs. Finally, she turned them over to Zoe, who showed them the back entrance where they could roll in the chopper, and pointed the way to the high circular display stage smack in the center of the room. The chopper, as it turned out, was the auction’s main event.

  He saw all the other auction stuff, a lot of it pretty pricey-looking, arranged on tables that rimmed the ballroom, and felt a little sick to his stomach. Yeah, he’d joked with Marnie and Ash about getting six figures from some philanthropist with a yen for the wild side and very deep pockets. But come on. What were all these rich society types going to care about an SA Choppers bike?

  Then again, it was a little late to worry about that. He rolled the bike up the ramp, put the stand down, hugged his baby sister and he and Gus got the hell out of there.

  Ash had ordered a stretch limo for the night.

  The six of them, Ash, Tessa, Jericho, Marnie, Gus and Gabriella Santiago, the airbrush artist who also did all the shop’s graphics, would be going together. The long, black car waited in front of Ash and Tessa’s house when Jericho, Gus and Gabriella pulled up in Jericho’s whip. The limo driver gave them a wave as they started up the front walk.

  Ash answered the door. “Tessa’s still getting ready and Marnie’s still in the guesthouse. Drink?” He led them into his study and poured Maker’s Mark.

  He offered a toast. “Here’s to a better-than-average rubber chicken dinner.”

  “I’m for that,” said Gus, raising his glass, too. Gus was looking exceedingly smooth that night in a shadow-stripe tux. And Gabriella was stunning, as always, her long black hair flowing halfway down her bare back, her dress the changeable blue of peacock feathers.

  Jericho drank and set down his glass. “I’ll go check on Marnie, see if I can move things along….”

  She was on the path that wove around by the pond when he went out the back door, wearing a red dress that skimmed her slim figure and sparkled in the fading light of day. She had her hair up, with little curls of it loose against her slim white neck. When she saw him, she smiled and then twirled around on the walk, holding the skirt out—Cinderella in red.

  He went to her.

  She whistled and gave him the once-over. “You look so hot. I could do you right here by the fishpond.”

  “You know, I was thinking pretty much the same thing about you.”

  She put her hands on his shoulders and her little red bag tapped him on the back. And then she lifted on tiptoe to brush a quick kiss against his lips. When she stepped away again, he offered his arm and they walked side by side to the back door.

  Tessa was coming down the stairs when they got to the front of the house. Her long velvet dress was a deep green. Jericho thought she was almost as pretty as Marnie.

  Ash came out of the study and went to kiss Tessa and whisper something in her ear. She flushed and gave a happy laugh.

  “I think we’re ready,” Tessa announced.

  Ash nodded. “The limo’s waiting.”

  They sat at one of three big tables reserved for the family, close to the stage.

  Jericho felt good, really good, to have Marnie at his side. She was smart and fun and beautiful. And, for that night and a little while afterward, she was with him.

  He also felt good about Gus, felt that he had done his mentor proud. When Gus took him in after he got out, he had nothing to offer but a willingness to work and a talent with the machines he loved. Now, as SA Choppers’ reputation grew because of the bikes he built, Jericho actually saw that he was giving a little back to Gus, that together, they were building something that neither could have managed alone.

  And then there was the chopper he’d created for tonight. In the center of the ballroom, up on its own private stage, that machine looked amazing. Gabriella had outdone herself with the paint. The bike was a study in metal-shot gold and amber, with touches of turquoise blue. It looked like a giant hornet, or maybe a mythical creature from some whacked-out druggie’s twisted nightmare, sleek and dangerous, shining in the spotlights, ready to roll.

  Maybe not the kind of machine anyone there that night would fork over serious bucks to claim. Maybe making it the centerpiece of the evening had been a mistake.

  But looking at it shining up there, Jericho almost didn’t care if it brought in a big chunk of change or not. He was so damn pleased with the way it had turned out, with the way it looked under those bright lights.

  After the main course, when the waiters ran back in again bearing dessert, the lights went down. Screens dropped from the ceiling, one on each wall.

  It was time for Zoe’s slide show. Jericho tried not to groan.

  But then, as it turned out, it was fine. It was good. It was really good. And not so much a slide show after all. Zoe had made a damn movie about SA Choppers, about the bikes that they built—the one in the middle of the ballroom, in particular. There was good music, loud and hard with a driving beat. And there was a clear thread-through, a little background on Jericho and Gus and Gabriella, too. And the story of the building of a special bike.

  He looked across the table at his mom and dad while Zoe’s little movie played—looked, and then looked again. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

  Tears shone in his dad’s eyes. Jericho blinked to make sure his own eyes weren’t playing tricks on him.

  But no. It was real. His dad glanced away at first, trying to hide the emotion. But then he gave it up. He turned his head back and stared straight at Jericho. He gave a slow nod.

  And Jericho saw that it had come out all right between them after all. He had Davis Bravo’s respect.

  More important, he was learning to respect himself.

  Zoe’s movie ended and the lights came up. He put his arm around Marnie. She leaned in close to him and he breathed in the rain-and-apples scent of her hair.

  She whispered in his ear. “That was really good. And the bike turned out so fine. I have a feeling you might get those six figures.”

  He chuckled. “We can hope.”

  They’d gotten some senator to play
master of ceremonies and auctioneer. Since the auction was a silent one, where people wrote their bids and their auction numbers on the sheet of paper by the item, the senator’s job was to charm everyone and spend a while delivering pitches about each of the prizes.

  Once that was over, there was dancing. Jericho held Marnie in his arms and thought about how he would take that red dress off her as soon as he got her back to the guesthouse.

  He joked with his brothers. He told Zoe she was a genius and she hugged him and said she was so glad he liked the movie she’d made. And he carefully avoided ever glancing at the auction sheet mounted beneath the chopper in the center of the dance floor.

  They closed the bidding at 1:00 a.m. And at one-thirty, the senator got back up on the stage. He pointed out the table by the door where the row of smiling ladies would be only too happy to take the winners’ money. And then, lowest to highest, he announced what each prize had brought.

  It took a really long time. Too long, in Jericho’s opinion. He and Marnie kept shooting each other will-this-ever-end glances. More than once, he saw her hide a yawn behind her hand.

  The bike was last, which was a hell of a relief to Jericho. At least it had brought in the most.

  “Stinger, by Jericho Bravo of San Antonio Choppers, airbrush art by Gabriella, is our top prize of the night,” the senator shouted. “Dax Girard of Great Escapes magazine claims our featured offering with his butt kickin’ bid of one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. That’s right, folks. One hundred fifty thousand! Let’s hear it for San Antonio Choppers and for Mr. Dax Girard!”

  Chapter Thirteen

  They had to hang around through the photos for the society rags, for pictures of Gus, Jericho and Gabriella alternately shaking Dax Girard’s hand in front of the auction bike, the senator beaming in the background, and Dax’s beauty-queen date trying to sneak into the frame.

  Jericho had heard of Dax, although this was the first time he’d actually met the man. Girard was the heir to the kind of fortune that made the Bravo money look like chump change. He’d spent years adventuring all over the world. And then he’d started Great Escapes, a glossy travel magazine.