The Bride Takes a Powder

by Jane Leopold Quinn

  "Mike." She smiled, nodded, and perched herself on a stool.

  "Want something to drink?" His heart thumped. He couldn't read her.

  "No, thanks. Looks like the rain let up for a bit."

  "Yeah, but it's supposed to start up again tonight. We can't take much more. The river's rising every day."

  "Do you think it'll flood the town?"

  He shrugged and frowned. "It very well could. About twenty years ago, the whole main square was flooded. Furniture and memorabilia in people's basements were destroyed. There was talk about building a flood wall along the river, but in the end the town decided to gamble that it wouldn't happen again."

  "That's not a good risk," she said.

  "They didn't want a wall to ruin the view of the river. Short-sighted, yeah."

  "I've seen a lot of sandbags stored up."

  He gave her a worried grimace. "At least there's some planning. Dad ordered sand. We'll see how it goes and fill the bags if we need to. How's your day so far?" He was tired of the river. He wanted to talk about her. It would be nice if there were a "them" to talk about. His belly tightened, and his cock thickened. Damn unruly bastard.

  "I ran into Phoebe this morning. She told me how she and Marc came to be living here. It sounded pretty sweet."

  He propped his hands on the bar. "I hadn't seen Marc for ten years after high school. It's great that he came back, finally, to live and even better that he brought Phoebe back. They both deserve happiness." Her lips smiled but her eyes held a wistful gaze. Something big must be up with her. A gorgeous successful woman like her… She was driving him crazy. Damn it, just ask her. "Are you running from something?" He made his voice low and gentle.

  Ignoring his question, she changed the subject. "Are you positive you don't plan to retain a lawyer to fight the allegations against you?"

  "You really think that's necessary?" This was the other last thing he wanted to talk about right now.

  "It's always better to have legal protection. Being Mr. Niceguy won't help you in every situation."

  He balanced a foot on the shelf behind the bar and rested an arm across his knee. "It's worked for thirty years. I'll be vindicated."

  "Well, if you're sure." She wrinkled her nose in doubt.

  "How do you know whether or not I'm a nice guy?"

  "What I know is that people are not to be trusted no matter how well you think you know them. You need to realize that before it's too late," she snapped.

  "What happened to you? Is that why you're here in B Falls? Did someone you trust betray you?"

  She gave him a cold look and before he could respond, a boisterous group threw open the door and barreled into the bar. He was quickly busy greeting customers and filling drink orders. Finally, he turned back to her place at the bar. She was gone.

  What in hell is going on with her?

  After that and for the rest of the afternoon and night, the bar was so busy he barely had a chance to catch his breath. Not that the work kept him from thinking about her though. He wanted, needed to see her again. Tomorrow he'd find out her story.

  When he finally rolled into bed well after the bar closed, he could think of little else but her and had to give himself a hand job in order to get to sleep. It certainly wasn't the same as sliding his ready cock inside her and feeling her hotly drenched pussy tightly engulfing him.

  It was her ass that he fantasized about. Sitting back on his heels on his bed, lubing his cock, he pictured her on all fours, her sweet round bottom hiked up high. He could see all of it, her pink sex spread wide, open for him. The scent of her juices dripping from her glistening hole would flood his mind. She'd groan, deep and wicked, begging him to fuck her. He'd grip his shaft, wet the tip by sliding it along her open cleft. Open and waiting. Wanting…

  One hand tightly squeezing the length of his lubed cock, the other cupping his balls, his eyes tightly closed, hips pumping, he fucked himself. Muttering low-voiced husky pleas to be inside her body, he spurted thick ropes of cum onto the bed and groaned her name. Now he bent over, ground his forehead into the bed and whimpered. Falling to his side, still grasping his sex, his last thought before sleep hit him like a sledgehammer was, Son of a bitch. Big wet gooey spot…

  ***

  Sunday morning came too quickly, too bright, and too fucking early. Mike groaned as he dragged himself out of bed, showered, and pulled on jeans and a t-shirt. He'd change the sheets later, but right now he needed coffee. "Damn it!" The moment his hand gripped the doorknob, he remembered his problems. First was the accusation against him. Proving his non-involvement should be easy, because he hadn't been involved in changing test answers, God damn it!

  Second was his raging hots for Norah Ballard. To the guys at school, she'd appeared unobtainable. Beautiful, sophisticated, intelligent at nineteen and all we could do was slobber after her, lusting in our hearts. Now she's in your backyard. Take!

  Downstairs his parents sat at a table in front of the big screen TV mounted on the wall next to the bar. He greeted them with a wave before ambling back into the kitchen for breakfast. His dad had left a big pan of scrambled eggs, sausage, and home fries in the warming oven. He was hungry as usual, but all his stomach could handle this morning was coffee and a piece of toast.

  "That's all you're going to have, sweetie?" the ultimate mother, asked.

  "For now, yeah, Mom." He focused his gaze back on the TV, not wanting to talk. They munched companionably and watched the morning news out of Chicago.

  "Prominent Chicago attorney disappears though no foul play is suspected. Almost a week ago, Norah Ballard left her home and hasn't been seen since. Her parents deny she's missing and insist that she's fine and not in any danger. Her fiancé, attorney Garrett Dunleith, a principle at Dunleith & Dunleith, claims he does not know her whereabouts. Ms. Ballard disappeared on the morning she and Dunleith were to be married."

  Mike's mouth dropped in surprise, his gaze narrowed, and shifted to his folks, their mouths also agape at what they'd just heard.

  "Is that…?" Bernice and Ollie said at the same time.

  Mike was stunned. He'd kissed, very thoroughly kissed and more, a woman who'd run out on her wedding? On the very day of the wedding? "What the hell!"

  "Did you know this, Mike?" his dad asked.

  "No." That was all he could say, aloud anyway. She hadn't said a word, and he hadn't asked her about Garrett. Hadn't wanted to. He didn't give a shit about Dunleith. Now question after question battered his mind. Why had she run away? What was going on? Her parents say she's not missing, but he does?

  She'd urged him to fight his own problems but had run away from hers. A cold wave of anger mixed with anxiety rolled over him. He'd been a fool to fall for her. Shut it! You didn't fall for her! What game was she playing? Was she using him as…

  "I'm going to find out what's going on." He took his dirty dishes into the kitchen, placing them in the stainless steel sink.

  Ollie followed him in. "Are you sure you want to get involved in whatever this woman's problems are?"

  Mike didn't turn around, his hands still in the sink with his dirty plate. "I'm already involved, Dad." A huge mistake. Damn it, I'm not the same shy nerd I was in college.

  "Have you slept with her?"

  He chuckled drily at how dismayed his dad sounded. "I didn't tell you but I knew her in college. Slightly. We didn't run in the same circles."

  "I'm sorry, son. It's none of my business. I'm not sure, though, that you know what the hell's going on with her."

  "I don't and no, I haven't slept with her." Spinning around, he met Ollie's gaze with a slight smile.

  "But you want to." It wasn't a question. "Mike, I know you're a sensible guy. I just don't want you to get hurt. She could very well go back to the fiancé."

  "Yeah. I know that." Mike took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a brief moment. "Thanks, Dad, but I have to take my chances on this one." Ollie patted him on the shoulder as he headed for the back door.
r />   It was really none of his business. She was none of his business, but he wanted the truth from her. Heading toward the McMillan House he automatically checked the river as he stalked past. It wasn't going down, that was for sure.

  Norah and Jan were on the porch, Norah in the swing, Jan in the rocking chair. She was a nice woman. The last thing he wanted to do was air his anger and confusion in front of her. Forcing his face out of the scowl he'd built up on his way here, he placed a foot on the first step and leaned forward, balancing an arm on his thigh. "Morning, ladies."

  "Mornin', Mike. Would you like to join us for some coffee?" Jan asked.

  "No thanks, Jan. I've had enough." That was an understatement since his stomach churned, and his heart raced as if he'd had too much caffeine. He wondered if she'd heard the TV news report, or maybe she already knew the whole story.

  Jan's gaze shifted between them. She sensed something was going on and she rose. "I've got some things to do. I'll see you both later."

  "You don't have to go," he said perfunctorily.

  "I think you two have something to talk about."

  His mouth tight, he replied, "Thank you, Jan." When the screen door slammed, he climbed the last step to the porch and balanced his butt on the railing.

  "I suppose you're here with that expression on your face because you saw the report about me on TV." Her gaze flitted toward him then away.

  "Yeah, I did."

  "I didn't want anyone to know."

  Her jaw was as clenched as his. He almost felt sorry for her. How humiliating this had to be for someone as arrogant as she was, which was how he remembered her. "I wouldn't think so." He couldn't sit still on the railing and took to pacing back and forth from one end of the porch to the other. From the farthest away from her he could get, he gathered his temper and said, "Would you mind telling me what the hell is going on?"

  "Wasn't it all on TV?"

  "Not nearly, I'm sure. What the hell is going on?" he repeated. "You told me not to trust anyone, not people I've known my whole life. You advised me to fight the charges."

  "All true."

  "But you didn't fight. You ran away."

  "Everyone has something to hide," she snapped.

  "I'm not hiding anything."

  "Right." She sighed, squeezing the bridge of her nose. "I am," she said in an undertone.

  "What happened?"

  Leaning her head back on the swing, she closed her eyes. "It's not long but it's ugly."

  "Yeah, I remember Dunleith."

  Drawing a deep, shaky breath, she continued, "I thought we'd be happy. We were supposed to be married, gee, what was it—less than a week ago? It seems like a decade. At the church, dressed in my wedding gown, we saw it all on TV. The asshole and his brother were outside a strip club, drunk as skunks, their shirts off, and they were yelling profanities at the cameras. There was no way in hell I could marry that shithead after humiliating me the way he had."

  He shook his head, quirking a little smile at her profanities. "No, I guess not."

  "I made an announcement in the church, changed clothes, and um—" She hesitated. "I took the first train out of town, fell asleep, and woke up in Birchwood Falls."

  "And it magically appeared to you?" He'd moved closer and balanced his butt back on the railing.

  She gave him a wry smile. "And I saw the billboard?"

  "Yeah. Birchwood Falls — You've Come Home."

  "It spoke to me." She shrugged. "I guess it was as good a place as anywhere else."

  "So what do you think of it?"

  She rolled her neck as if loosening some kinks. "It's a different life than what I had. Slower. You all know each other, are friends."

  "We have our problems too," he reminded, shaking his head in annoyance.

  "I'm seeing that. I'm sorry. I guess there are backstabbers everywhere."

  "Yeah. Do you regret getting off the train?" That was a loaded question. He caught her gaze and held it, the memory of their kisses fresh. He hadn't gotten nearly enough of her. His palms itched with wanting to touch, to make love, fuck her, have sex. He wanted this woman more than he'd ever wanted anyone. Added to that, he'd never been this confused about a woman. His dad was right. She could very well go back to Dunleith.

  He held her gaze without blinking. He forgot his question. Oh, yeah. Did she regret getting off the train?

  In a whisper, she said, "No, Mike, I don't regret it."

  Norah couldn't read his expression. She wasn't even sure how she felt about it. Well, confused is how she felt. A day had passed since they'd traded kisses that had rocked her life. No matter what happened now, Garrett was out of the picture. But don't jump into another man's arms so fast. You made one mistake. Don't make another.

  Mike pushed off the railing and scuffling his feet, he said, "Would you like to go for a drive? Out into the country?"

  A ride. Did people actually still do that? Just drive around for fun? "You have a car?" It was the only thing she could think of to say.

  He frowned in mock irritation. "Of course I do. What do you think? That I hitchhike to work?"

  "Well, it's a small town."

  "Not that small. Sometimes I like to put on my big boy pants and…well…" His face turned a cute beet red, but he bravely held her gaze.

  "I'm sorry. I don't know…" I don't know what the hell I'm saying.

  Waving a hand, batting at the air, he said, "Forget it. Yes, I have a car. I can get it and pick you up in a little while."

  It might be fun and good to get away for a bit, forget about their problems, take advantage of a beautiful day. "Okay, Mike." She smiled, nodding her head in agreement.

  "Great." He grinned boyishly. "Twenty minutes." Then he took off jogging back toward Ollie's.

  She ran up the stairs to check her makeup and grab a jacket. Her phone rang. The screen showed Garrett's number. Damn. This was the worst moment for him to call. Just get it over with. "Garrett."

  "It's about time you answered. Where are you?"

  "Hello to you too. I'm busy and don't have time to talk right now. But I will tell you that I'm being tested for STDs. You'd better hope you didn't give me anything."

  "Nor…"

  "Yeah, I didn't think you'd have much to say about that." Very aware that Mike could be outside waiting for her, she wanted to get off the phone as soon as she could. "There's really nothing more to say to each other, Garrett. I could never trust you to be faithful. Don't call again." After a moment of quiet, she said, "Goodbye." Shivering, she sat on her couch trying to recover. In her mind, she'd known her old life was over, but she knew she wasn't finished with Garrett. They had more to talk about. But not yet.

  When she got back down to the porch, Mike was already out front leaning against a black Ford SUV and looking pretty proud of himself. She couldn't help a bark of laughter, not sure what kind of car she'd expected to see. "It's gorgeous." Really. It's not like he's just a farm boy with a battered pickup.

  "Thanks. You look like this isn't what you expected." He quirked a grin.

  He echoed her thoughts. Damn him. She laughed at herself. So much for having a dispassionate expression, a lawyer's expression.

  Opening the passenger door, he ushered her inside, closed the door with a robust thump, and then climbed in his side. "Ready?"

  She nodded and they drove off down the highway. Very quickly they were out of town, and he opened it up. The sun was out, peeking through the trees, their branches filling out, green leaves trembling in the breeze. He handled the car well as they streaked along. She'd never been to this area of the country and found she loved the rolling hills and curves of the narrow two-lane roadway.

  "It's so pretty here, but what must the early pioneers have thought when they first saw it. It couldn't have been easy to drive covered wagons up and down the roads, if there even were roads."

  "Hardy people. There were probably narrow Indian tracks."

  "You know I've read that the women walked all the wa
y west. Men drove the wagons, and women walked alongside. Thank you very much." She laughed.

  "As I said. Hardy women." He flicked a glance in her direction then back to the curvy road. "You knew Garrett in college. Why did it take you so long to decide to get married?"

  For a long moment she glared at him, at his profile. He seemed to be watching the road very carefully, but his question had aimed for the jugular. "How long have you wanted to ask that?"

  He chuckled and shrugged. "We're both in our thirties and out of school a long time."

  "Why aren't you married yet?" she challenged.

  "You first."

  She watched him handle the steering wheel and shift lever with skill. She'd barely known him years ago, and he'd seemed a bit geeky. But now that she really looked at him, his profile was perfect. His nose was nice, well a little wide at the bridge which made his eyes wide-set. She was finally seeing his blue eyes that matched the color of the day's clear sky. His mouth was smooth and firm, and she bit at her lips as she well remembered the way he kissed her. And that long, strong chin was killer with a healthy hint of beard. That and the midnight black hair on his head probably meant he'd be pretty hairy all over. Heat flushed her cheeks, and she turned her head to look out the side window not wanting him to realize she was taking stock of his features.

  Okay, there was one more thing. She imagined a dark downy chest. Ah, another—a trail of hair from his bellybutton down… Stop it!

  "Norah? Why the wait?"

  Oh, damn. Now all she could think of was his… Rolling her eyes in consternation at her wayward thoughts, she collected herself. "I wanted us to be well established in our careers."

  "What did Garrett want?"

  What indeed. "He wanted it too." Then she felt sick. Had he been going out drinking and to strip clubs all along? "I don't know anymore." Her voice drifted low. "Maybe he was cheating on me all that time."

  Mike put the blinker on and pulled off the road at an overlook. Turning the car off, he shifted in his seat to face her. "You didn't suspect anything?"