The Bride, The Trucker And The Great Escape. Suzanne McMinn
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Troy’s brother’s wife near the due date for their first baby—Troy had had no choice but to take the trip himself.
He was on the first day of a tough ten-day haul, first to L.A., then down to San Diego and back to the East Coast. Not two miles into their trip, Dog had begun scratching and clawing at the door of the truck’s roomy sleeper cab, a sure sign he wanted to attend to nature’s call. Then the woman, in full bridal regalia, had appeared out of nowhere, running headlong into traffic—
The young woman scrambled off him then and knelt by his side, seemingly heedless of the fancy gown she wore. Beautiful, heavily lashed dark eyes, shocked and worried, met his.
“Are you all right?” she gasped. Her voice was soft, musical, lilting. Like an angel’s. Only, the thoughts she inspired weren’t exactly pious. In fact, they were just the opposite.
Troy blinked, swallowed, blinked again. Curly dark tendrils escaped the lacy headdress she wore, framing an oval-shaped face with a rosebud mouth and a pert little nose scattered with light freckles. Diamonds decorated the lobes of her small ears, and her slender neck led his eyes down to smooth skin and a tempting display of cleavage above her lace and satin bodice.
Speechless for a second, Troy realized he couldn’t be too badly hurt. The quickening in his groin told him that much.
“You saved my life!” The woman leaned over him. She smelled as sweet and wholesome as blueberries and cream. All he could think was how he wanted to taste her lips right there and then—
“Are you hurt?” she cried when he didn’t respond.
“No, no, I’m fine. Just a little stunned, that’s all.” Troy pulled himself together and sat up, finding everything apparently worked—except his common sense. He didn’t remember hitting his head, but he must have. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be having these irrational thoughts.
He was putting his new business first these days, not his personal life. He didn’t need any unnecessary distractions. And the woman in front of him was def-initely a distraction.
More than that, with those big eyes of hers, she could be a heartbreaker. And Troy had been down that road, all too recently.
“What about you?” he demanded more abruptly than he meant to. “You almost got yourself run down! Why didn’t you get out of the way?”
Dog kept circling and barking.
Andie stared at the man. Now he sounded as if he was about to start chastising her. That’s what her father would do.
“I wanted to get run down,” she snapped sarcastically. She jerked to a stand, bristling.
The man’s eyes widened, then narrowed. He drew himself up, one hand shooting to his back. She wondered if he’d injured himself rescuing her.
“Pardon me for getting in the way,” Troy grumbled.
Andie immediately felt guilty for lashing out at him. He’d just saved her life, for pity’s sake.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized quickly. “You didn’t deserve that.” She chewed her lip. “Thank you for pulling me out of the way. I guess I just froze when I saw that car coming. Are you sure you’re not hurt?”
The man was of average height, compactly built, and in her high heels, Andie didn’t have to look too far up to meet his gaze. With a quick, sweeping study, she noted the plain white T-shirt stretched over a broad chest, the slim waist, the lean legs encased in worn jeans. But what captured her, what sucked her in and wouldn’t let her go, were his eyes. They were light, hazel, perfectly complementing his dark blond hair, and her stomach pitched in a seesaw reaction that confused her and left her feeling oddly vulnerable.
“I’m just a bit sore, that’s all.” Troy frowned. “What about you? You’re the one running around in traffic in a wedding dress. Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“No.” Andie suddenly remembered what the near accident had temporarily knocked from her mind.
Phillip. Her father. The wedding. Her troubled gaze flicked to the church.
“So you always run around in the street in a wedding dress?”
“Huh?” Andie licked her lips, trying to focus on what the man was saying and casting about for some means of escape at the same time.
She still had the same problem she’d had five minutes ago—only now she’d lost valuable time.
A movement from the front of the church caught her attention.
It was her father! And Phillip!
“Oh, no!” Andie ducked back down between the cars.
She crept forward, hiding behind the parked vehicle.
Ahead lay the truck. Making a split-second decision, she dashed for it, leaping into the cab, dragging along the heavy train of her dress. Keeping low, she dived across the driver’s seat to the passenger side, sweeping a neatly stacked newspaper and a clipboard off the seat she intended to occupy. The newspaper and clipboard whooshed to the floor as she scrunched into the corner by the window.
The trucker followed her into the cab, his dog jumping in behind him and scrambling onto the floorboard between the seats. The animal stared at her and barked. The trucker brought the cab door shut with a bang.
“You want to tell me what’s going on?” He picked up his clipboard and slapped it onto the dash. He left the newspaper where it was.
Andie sank lower, watching her father and Phillip. More guests spilled out from the church, and they began fanning over the church grounds. The search was on!
She looked at the dog. He growled.
She had to think for a minute to decide who she was more scared of—Phillip and her father, or the dog.
“Drive,” she begged in a tiny, desperate voice, making up her mind.
“What?”
“Drive.”
“Not until you tell me what’s going on here. Are you running from somebody?” Troy watched her. She’d gone pale beneath her light makeup. Her eyes were huge, darting restlessly toward the church. He saw people spreading out, shouting.
“Yes,” she answered.
It wasn’t a big leap to figure they were looking for her, that she was fleeing her own wedding—no doubt breaking some poor slob’s heart. A dull thud echoed inside him.
“Who? And why?” He peppered the questions at her abruptly.
“Are you going to ask questions or are you going to drive?”
Troy arched an eyebrow. The dog growled again.
“I’m sorry. That was rude. I’m desperate.” Her voice cracked. “Please, I have to get away from here. Before they find me!”
Her plea arrowed straight to his heart. He was suddenly torn, and that made him angry. She’d just stomped all over some guy. He didn’t want to feel sorry for her, didn’t want to help her.
But he’d saved her life, and that made him feel responsible for her, whether he liked it or not. And he didn’t like it. Not one bit.
Irritated with the position he was in—and with her for putting him in it—he glanced out his rearview mirror, then whipped into traffic. The huge vehicle barreled down the avenue ten miles over the speed limit.
Neither one of them spoke for several minutes, then she rose and twisted around to peer at the church vanishing into the distance. Then she turned back around and smoothed her dress.
He didn’t know anything about fashion, but he’d bet the dress was a designer original. Something about it just dripped money.
“What’s your name?” he demanded. If he was going to figure out what to do with her, he had to start somewhere. A name