A Bride for Jericho Bravo. Christine Rimmer

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СКАЧАТЬ You need a good night’s sleep.”

      “I think he hates me now.”

      “Of course he doesn’t.”

      “And I embarrassed Ash. And you.”

      “Marnie.”

      “What?”

      “Go to bed. It’ll all look better in the morning.”

      She blew out a hard sigh. “Yeah. I’m sure you’re right.” She got a last hug from her sister and left as she had entered, through the French doors, going around by the pond again, not as comforted by the chuckling fountain as she had been earlier.

      In the larger of the guesthouse bedrooms, she put on her sleep shirt and trudged into the bathroom to brush her teeth. She really looked awful, bags under her bloodshot eyes, her skin kind of splotchy. Way too pale. Even her hair seemed depressed. It hung limp as a dirty brown curtain to her shoulders.

      She made herself not look at the mirror again as she squirted toothpaste on her toothbrush and cleaned her teeth. Then it was back to the bedroom and the nice, fresh white sheets on the comfy bed. She climbed in and pulled the covers over her and shut her eyes.

      And remembered that she’d left her purse in the house.

      Why had she taken it over there, anyway? She had no idea. She hadn’t needed it then—and she didn’t really need it now.

      But then, it did have her phone in it. What if someone called her? Other than Mark. What if she needed to make a call?

      True, there was a landline on the nightstand—and no, she couldn’t think of a single person she wanted to call. And yet …

      Fine. She would get the damn purse.

      She shoved back the covers, pulled her jeans back on under the sleep shirt and stuck her feet in a pair of flip-flops. That time she went around in front of the garage to get to the back door, so she saw Jericho’s chopper parked in the turnaround area between the house and the garage. It was beautiful, big and black with metal-flake cobalt-blue trim and shiny chrome. Even in the shadows of twilight the gorgeous thing gleamed, its stretched front forks looking so dangerous—and fast.

      The sight of it made her throat clutch, brought a sharp pang of longing for home, where her dad ran the local garage, had since she was a kid. Sometimes bikers would bring their choppers in when something went wrong during a mountain ride.

      Once, before she and Mark started dating, when he was only her blood brother and very best friend, one of those bikers had taken her for a ride. It was thrilling and scary, rounding sharp mountain turns, the wind tearing at her, blowing her hair out from under her borrowed helmet, as the bike picked up speed.

      She remembered the biker’s laughter, blown back to her on the wind, the smell of road dust and pine forest all around, the engine roaring in her ears, vibrating through her body, making her feel a little afraid, stunningly alive. And utterly free.

      What happened to you? Mark’s voice. Filling her head, saying all the cruel things he’d said yesterday morning. Marnie, I hardly know you anymore. You used to take chances. You used to be willing to rise to any challenge, the bravest girl I ever knew. Where did that girl go? I think you need to find out. Marnie, I think that you and me, we’re not meant to be. Not in this way. I think you need to ask yourself. Where is your spark?

       Shut up, Mark.

      She shook herself and turned away from the beautiful bike, toward the main house again.

      Tessa wasn’t in the kitchen. The dishes they’d brought in from the dining room waited on the counter, just as they’d left them. Marnie went through the family room where the white cat still slept and down the hall to the foyer to get her purse from the entry table.

      The doors to the study were open. She could hear voices in there, male voices: Ash and his brother. She would have to cross the open doorway to get her purse. The thought of doing that, of having the two men see her and wonder what she was doing wandering around the main house without Tessa, made her nervous—which only proved Mark was right about her. She was scared of her own damn shadow.

      Where had her brave self gone?

      As she hovered there at the foot of the stairs, admitting how pitiful and silly she was being, she heard Jericho’s rough voice, painfully clear, from inside the study.

      “No, man. I mean really. You probably ought to get her to a shrink or something.”

      Ash said, “She’ll be fine. She’s had a rough couple of days, that’s all.”

      “She didn’t say a word through dinner. Just sat there, staring. Didn’t you notice?”

      “Rico. Come on.”

      “She got a drug problem, maybe?”

      “Her boyfriend dumped her and she drove all the way here from Santa Barbara. She’s beat and her life’s in chaos. And you scared her.”

      “I didn’t do crap. I was just standing there. That woman is not okay, I’m telling you. She needs—”

      Marnie didn’t stick around to hear what she needed—let alone, to get her purse. Her cheeks burning and her heart pounding hard and fast with shame and fury, she whirled to go back the way she had come, pausing only to yank off her flip-flops so neitherAsh nor his bigmouth butthead of a brother would hear her retreat.

      Barefoot, clutching her flip-flops in her fist, she took off down the hall, racing through the family room and the kitchen and, at last, out the French doors to the backyard. Once outside in the gathering dark, she stopped and sucked in a few deep breaths of the cool night air.

      The deep breaths didn’t help much. Her heart still knocked against her ribs like it wanted to break right through the wall of her chest. Her cheeks still flamed with humiliation. She started running again, not quite so fast now, jogging back the way she had come.

      The chopper was still waiting there, chrome shining, metal flake blue giving off a kind of sparkle even in the growing darkness. She slowed as she approached it and then veered toward it instead of running on by. A helmet waited on the seat.

      In her head, Jericho’s voice now warred with Mark’s.

       She got a drug problem, maybe?

       What happened to you?

       You probably ought to get her to a shrink or something.

       You used to take chances.

       That woman is not okay, I am telling you.

       … willing to rise to any challenge. The bravest girl I ever knew.

       … didn’t say a word through dinner.

       I think you have to ask yourself …

       Just sat there, staring …

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