The Bride, The Trucker And The Great Escape. Suzanne McMinn
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forehead as a sea of eyes took in her bridal garb.
Troy shot a look at Andie, seeing her smile evaporate into stunned embarrassment. Then she lifted her chin a notch, resolved, and headed for the one empty booth.
She could have turned tail and run, and he was impressed that she hadn’t. Either she had a lot of guts, or she was starving.
The booth was rounded into the corner and made to fit a good four or five people, so there was plenty of room. Andie slid onto one end of the orange vinyl bench, arranging her gown. Troy seated himself on the opposite side, leaving them separated by several feet of empty, curved bench. The one-sided plastic menus were propped between the napkin holder and the sugar.
Troy pulled out two and handed one to Andie. She immediately bent her head to study it. He noticed that her cheeks remained unnaturally rosy.
He glanced around and saw a number of truckers still staring rudely toward her, and he glowered at them one by one until they looked away. Just because he thought Andie was strange didn’t mean it was okay for anyone else to.
He was starting to feel very protective of her. The realization made him edgy.
“Well, well, if we don’t have some newlyweds!” a bright voice chirped. A middle-aged woman in a pink waitress uniform, filled out rather lumpily by her generous form, approached their booth. “I just love a June bride. And you’re a real pretty one, honey.”
She beamed at Andie over her order pad.
Andie looked up, startled. “I—” Words choked in her throat. “Thank you,” she mumbled.
“We’ll need a few minutes to decide.” Troy tried his best to ignore the waitress’s comments. “Why don’t you just bring us a couple of sodas for now.”
The woman—Marge, according to the name tag pinned to her ample bosom—didn’t budge.
“I think it’s so romantic, traveling on the road together.” Marge displayed a beatific smile. “My Em was a trucker. A long-hauler. I always traveled with him—from the day we married till the day the good Lord took him home.” Her small blue eyes, set back in her puffy face, went dewy for a minute. “It’s a great life, honey.”
“Really?” Andie’s desperate gaze clung to Troy. He merely arched an eyebrow at her. Andie poked her nose back into the menu.
“You just love your man, that’s all it takes,” Marge went on, undeterred by the lack of encouragement she was getting. “Now, how come you two are sitting so far apart, hmm?” Andie looked up to see Marge’s eyebrows knit together. “You lovebirds haven’t had a little quarrel already, have you?”
She gave a disapproving tsk-tsk.
Lovebirds? Andie seemed to have had enough. “You don’t understand. We’re not—I’m not—” She stopped. Troy could almost see her thoughts spinning. How could she explain she’d run away from her wedding, and that she and Troy were total strangers?
He noticed several patrons from nearby tables were listening. Andie’s mouth snapped shut in defeat. Her cheeks pinkened.
Troy could see that ignoring Marge wasn’t helping, and he wasn’t any more interested in explaining the truth to the nosy waitress than Andie apparently was.
“We’re just a little tired,” he said. He stabbed his menu back in between the napkins and the sugar, his mind working double time as he came up with the fastest way to get rid of the woman. “And we’ve got a long way to go tonight, so we’d better get started.” He settled on the path of least resistance and looked at Andie. “I think I’m ready to order now, after all. How about you, sweetheart?”
Andie’s eyes widened. She looked at Marge, then back at Troy.
She felt her cheeks grow hotter.
“Uh, sure, dumpling,” she said tightly, annoyed.
Marge pursed her lips. “Come on, you two,” she chided. She made little coaxing motions with her hands, waving Troy and Andie toward each other. “You can’t fool me. Kiss and make up before I take your order.”
Andie’s blood began a stampede in her chest. She was as eager to get Marge off their backs as anyone, but she wasn’t ready for this.
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