As if reading her thoughts, Josh said, “Roger kept it quiet. I doubt anyone else knew.”
“You did,” she said.
“Didi’s my friend.”
But she noted he didn’t say how good a friend the woman was.
“Does Roger know about the baby?” she asked, once she found her voice.
“No.” Josh shook his head.
“Is Didi going to tell him?”
Again Josh paused. “I don’t know. That decision is hers.”
She studied him, and wondered if he had been Didi’s lover, too. If so, she didn’t want to know about it.
His grip on her hand relaxed. “Come on, you look like you could use a cup of coffee.” He led her to a café on the main street and held the door for her. Although it was still early, the place was busy. With a majority of the tables occupied, Josh opted to sit at the counter. Once they were settled, he handed Gretchen a menu.
The harried waitress cast them an apologetic smile as she raced by, her arms loaded down with plates. “I’ll be with you folks as soon as I can.”
“We’re in no hurry,” Josh assured her.
The woman returned a few minutes later with the coffeepot. “The other waitress called in sick at the last minute, along with the dishwasher. Mighty convenient case of the flu, if you ask me,” she said as she filled their cups.
The cook slapped the bell and set two more plates on the shelf. The waitress glanced over her shoulder and grumbled under her breath. “I’ll be back to take your order in a minute. I don’t want those breakfasts to get cold.”
“No problem,” Gretchen said.
Josh helped himself to a couple of doughnuts from a plate beneath a plastic dome. He handed one to Gretchen.
As the waitress moved past, Josh said to her, “Listen, if you’re shorthanded, I can wash dishes.”
The waitress hesitated.
“All I want in exchange is a decent breakfast for me and my friend.”
“Harry,” the waitress called into the kitchen. “We got ourselves a volunteer. The guy claims he can wash dishes.” She looked at Gretchen. “What about you, honey? Did you ever wait tables?”
Gretchen could see that Josh was about to answer for her. “Sure,” she said quickly, although it was a bald-faced lie. She brushed the doughnut crumbs from her hands and slipped off the stool.
“There’s an apron and an order pad behind the counter.”
“Great,” Gretchen said. She wasn’t at all sure she would be able to pull it off, but she was willing to try. She tossed Josh a saucy grin as she tied the apron around her waist. Then he disappeared into the kitchen.
“If you’d do the coffee refills, I’d appreciate it,” the waitress said, swishing past her. “Those tables need to be cleaned, too.” She pointed at two that had just emptied. “By the way, my name’s Marge.”
“I’m Gretchen.” She reached for the glass coffeepot. It didn’t demand a lot of skill to refill coffee cups around the room. Once she’d finished that, she found a large square tub and hauled it over to the vacated tables, then dumped the dirty dishes inside. After she wiped the surface clean and handed Marge her tip money, she turned to discover the tables had already filled up with new customers.
By the time the breakfast crowd had thinned out, it was midmorning. Gretchen sat down and counted her tips. She had collected close to twenty bucks.
“Sure do appreciate the help,” Marge said, sitting down next to her at the counter.
“Glad I could do it.”
Josh appeared from the kitchen, drying his hands on a dish towel.
“I’m so hungry I could eat a cow,” Gretchen said.
Marge winked at Josh, then looked toward the kitchen. “Harry, cook me up a couple of our best steaks, and don’t be frying up any of those skinny breakfast ones, either. These kids deserve T-bones.”
Chapter 3
Gretchen couldn’t remember when she’d enjoyed a meal more, although she felt like a fraud accepting it. Her waitressing skills left a lot to be desired, and by the end of three hours her feet hurt, her back ached, and she had a new appreciation of the skills required to wait tables.
It was almost noon by the time they were back on the road. Unlike the previous day, when they’d ridden hour upon hour without a break, Josh stopped every ten or fifteen miles, wherever there was a scenic overlook. Gretchen had traveled down the Oregon coast any number of times and found the scenery breathtaking. But nothing compared to viewing the magnificence on a bright sunny day in June from the back of Josh’s Harley. It went a long way, in fact, to assuaging the ache in her heart.
She didn’t want to think about Roger or the wedding, and yet they filled every corner of her mind. She didn’t mention his name, not once, during any of their stops, but she talked about everything else without pausing for breath. Josh’s patience was nothing short of miraculous. She couldn’t remember ever being so talkative. She told him story upon story of growing up in San Francisco. She endlessly bragged about her older brother, and dragged out four or five pictures of her eighteen-month-old niece.
At each stop Josh would sit on the rock-wall railing with his back to the ocean and listen as if he’d never heard anything more fascinating. Gretchen wished she’d paid more attention in psychology class so she could appreciate what was happening to her. Could analyze it and stop this infernal chattering.
He rarely commented, just sat and listened, nodding and smiling now and again. Their last stop to view the scenery was Rockaway Beach. While standing in the glorious sunshine, looking out over the relentless surf, she started laughing as she told a story about her niece. She’d asked Jazmine to get her a pair of shoes, and the toddler had promptly delivered every pair Gretchen owned.
As she neared the end of the tale, her laughter altered and unexpected tears flooded into her eyes. “I…I don’t know why I’m going on like this,” she said when she found it impossible to hide what was happening.
“I know why.” He stood and gently placed his hands on her shoulders. Then, with a tenderness that made her want to weep even more, he pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. “It’s all right, Gretchen. Go ahead and cry. You’re hurting. The man you loved isn’t the person you thought he was.”
Like water through a burst dam, her sobs broke free. They seemed to surge upward from the deepest part of her, until it wasn’t only her shoulders that shook but her entire body. She tried to break away from Josh, but he wouldn’t allow it. He pressed her closer, murmuring words of comfort all the while.
She clung to him, burying her head against his shoulder, letting him absorb her anger and hurt. The roar of the ocean slamming against the rocks seemed to echo her pain.
Once her energy was spent and her sobs turned to sniffles, she eased away, keeping her head lowered in embarrassment. He would have none of it. He tucked his index finger beneath her chin, raised her head and met her eyes.
“It’s all right,” he said.
A slight smile trembled at the corners of her mouth, and she nodded.
“I give up.” The words were half whisper and half groan. As soon as he said them, he lowered his mouth to hers. The kiss was slow and deep, so deep she felt it all the way to her toes. Intense, yet incredibly tender.
After a moment Josh slid his fingers into her short hair, cupping the sides of her head as he angled his mouth over hers, urging her lips apart with the tip of his tongue. He sighed when, in a daze, she accepted his invitation and opened for him. Shyly her tongue met his, but gradually she gained confidence as the kissing continued. What had begun as a slow easy exercise quickly became demanding and urgent.
She wasn’t sure what would have happened if a car hadn’t pulled off the highway just then. Hearing the sound of wheels grinding against the gravel, Josh broke off contact. He studied her for a moment.
“You OK?” he asked, touching his forehead to hers while holding her face between his hands.
She nodded, not knowing how else to an
swer him. But she wasn’t OK. She’d been weeping for one man and kissing another. And liking it so much she hadn’t wanted to stop. She glared at the new arrivals, wishing they would leave, then realized how ridiculous she was being.
“We better get back on the road,” Josh said, steering her toward the Harley.
Although she followed him silently, her mind brewed with half-formed questions. First and foremost she wanted to know what had prompted him to kiss her. She didn’t want his pity, but at the same time, she knew she would be a fool to believe any part of that soul-stirring kiss had been because he felt sorry for her.
Once she was safely tucked behind him on the Harley, he started the bike and steered them back onto the road. The wind whipped against her face, and she closed her eyes. Josh was dangerous—that was what she’d always heard. Now she knew why. The danger wasn’t his arrogance, the way he challenged authority or defied danger. It was the effortless way he could make a woman feel desirable.
They didn’t stop again for what seemed like hours. The day before she had held herself away from Josh, her spine rigid, determined to minimize any physical contact. Not so now. Her grip around his waist was tight; she craved the physical reassurance of his solid body.
Josh stopped in Tillamook when they hit a red light. “You hungry?” he asked.
She realized, somewhat to her surprise, that she was. “Yeah, I guess I am.” Then, knowing their finances were limited, she asked, “What can we afford?”
“Cheese.”
“Cheese?” While she knew neither one of them had a lot of cash, she didn’t think they were in dire straits.
“Some of the best in the country. I’ll show you.”
Tillamook was home to a huge dairy-products factory. She smiled and flattened her cheek against his back, grateful to have him for a friend. It felt good and right to be this close to him. Her entire four years of college, she’d barely talked to him. By any reasonable measure they were little more than strangers, yet she felt closer to him after these two days together than she did to some of her sorority sisters with whom she’d lived for years.
Josh turned left at the next light and then pulled into a large bustling parking lot. The building was enormous, complete with gift shop, touring areas, and plenty of free samples of a surprisingly large selection of cheeses and ice cream. He purchased a box of crackers, some cheese and a bottle of red wine.
“For a picnic,” he explained, as they headed back to the bike. He smiled, and it was such a rare thing it caught her unawares.
“You should do that more often,” she said, as she fastened the strap of her helmet. At the question in his eyes, she said, “Smile.”
His response was to frown, drawing his thick eyebrows together and darkening his face. Not for the first time, she was struck by what an attractive man he was. She wasn’t alone, either. In the cheese factory, she had noticed a number of women openly assessing him. Apparently they liked what they saw. For his part, he appeared oblivious to the attention his looks generated.
Seeing him now, wearing that well-practiced scowl, she couldn’t help it, she laughed outright. It was all for show. Beneath that dark brooding exterior lay a man with a kind and generous heart. A man she was only beginning to know, yet already liked immensely.
“What?” he demanded.
“You. Let’s get moving, pal. I’m hungry.”
He grumbled something she couldn’t hear under his breath and climbed on the Harley. Without hesitation, she positioned herself behind him and automatically locked her arms around his middle. It felt so right and natural to be close to him. Less than twenty-four hours earlier she’d made the most daring move of her life by trusting him to deliver her home safely. And trust him she did, more with each passing hour.
Josh found them a quiet corner on a secluded section of beach. The afternoon was glorious. The ocean breeze was blessedly cool, and a thicket of tall grass rustled softly behind them.
They sat on the blanket, nibbling the cheese and crackers, and sipping the wine from plastic glasses. After a while, replete, Gretchen lay on her back and gazed at the sky. She was amazed by how tranquil, how at peace, she felt. Stretching her arms above her, she smiled lazily. All she could hear were the waves pounding the shore and the frantic cries of gulls.
The wine seemed to have loosened her inhibitions—at least that was what she blamed for the path her thoughts were traveling.
“Josh, can I ask you something?” she said.
An uncomfortable silence followed. Uncomfortable enough to cause her to turn her head and look at him. He was sitting with his arms braced behind him. “You don’t want me to ask you anything?” Surely he would want to know the question and then decide if he would answer it.
His frown was back, darker and more intimidating than ever. “Are you looking for me to apologize for kissing you?”
“No!” If he did, she would be offended. Her response to his kiss had been relegated to the far reaches of her mind. She needed time to analyze what had prompted her heady reaction, but she wasn’t up to a lengthy examination just yet.
“What, then?” He crossed his arms.
She closed her eyes and angled her face toward the sun rather than look at him. “Never mind,” she said, silently laughing at him. “It wasn’t important.”
“Ask me,” he barked.
She rolled onto her stomach and trained her gaze on the ocean. “It has to do with Didi Wilson.”
“What about her?”
Gretchen paused, unsure now that she wanted to proceed, but the need burned within her, and she knew she wouldn’t be completely at peace until she discovered the answer. Besides, at this point she couldn’t walk away from the subject gracefully. She inhaled and held her breath momentarily. “I realize it’s none of my business…”
“Listen, if it has to do with Didi and Roger, I’d rather not—”
“No,” she said, interrupting him. “Not them. This has to do with Didi and you.” Her words were like a hatchet coming down on a chopping block.
His gaze pinned her. She exhaled sharply and blurted, “Have you…did you and Didi…you know…do that?” She couldn’t make herself say the words. Make love. Did you make love to Didi? Her heart was laid open, exposed, revealing everything. Over the past six months she’d frequently seen Didi riding through the campus on the back of Josh’s Harley. Her arms had squeezed him, her ample assets pressed against his back.
Now she knew that Josh hadn’t been Didi’s only love interest. With a shock, she realized that while the news of Didi and Roger had shattered her world, if she learned that Josh had been Didi’s lover, as well, she would be devastated. She should have known better than to ask a question when she was afraid of the answer.
“I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to know,” she said hurriedly, then leaped to her feet, kicked off her shoes and raced toward the surf. Her face burned with humiliation, but she had no one to blame but herself. She raced into the ocean, gasping at how cold it was. The surf surged against her thighs before she stopped running. Her pulse pounded in her temple.
“Gretchen!”
She heard Josh call, but she ignored him. The lunch that had made her feel so pleasantly replete now felt like a rock-hard lump in the pit of her stomach.
“Come on, Gretchen, would you listen to me?” He stood at the water’s edge, glaring at her.
“I shouldn’t have asked,” she said. “It was none of my business. Please, I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” She pranced about in the shallows, trying to make him think she was having the time of her life.
“Stop that right now.” It was the same tone of voice her father used to employ with her when she was a child and misbehaving. A tone full of authority she didn’t challenge.
She stopped playing in the surf and faced him.
“Didi’s my friend,” he said. “Nothing more. Never has been and never will be. Understand?”
She nodded miserably.
Josh ext
ended his hand to her in much the same way he had the day before, when he’d invited her to climb onto the back of his motorcycle. “Come here before you’re completely drenched.”
The water was so cold her feet had gone numb. Mustering every shred of dignity she possessed, she remained where she was, her chin angled high and proud. How desperately she longed to believe him!
“Don’t make me come in after you.”
“Would you?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Yes, but trust me, you’d regret it.”
The threat was as bold as the man himself. “Really?” She reached down and with feigned nonchalance dangled her fingers in the water.
The challenge was there, bold as ever. The confidence he’d exuded didn’t waver as he lowered himself onto the hot sand and removed his boots one at a time. Then he stood and unfastened his belt.
“Josh.” She watched, fascinated.
“I’m not getting these jeans wet. It’s uncomfortable riding in wet pants.” He peeled down the zipper and hooked his thumbs through the belt loops, clearly prepared to remove both his jeans and his underwear.
“Okay, okay. You win.” She raced out of the surf and onto the beach, heading for the blanket. She heard him chuckle and call her a coward as she passed him.
His taunts evolved into a sexy smile as he followed her back to the blanket. It had been a childish thing to do, she thought, challenging him that way. Especially when the outcome had already been decided. Josh would win because he always won.
Soon they were back on the road again, breezing down the highway, soaking up the sunshine and scenery. And she realized he was right. It was uncomfortable riding in wet jeans.
The sun was just beginning to set by the time they reached Newport. Dozens of mammoth kites of various colors and designs battled the wind, rising and plummeting on the fickle fancy of the currents. Campfires flickered here and there along the beach, competing in color with the setting sun.