Going to the Chapel Read Free Page A

of
nature as the sun climbed higher above the distant treetops. The
car suddenly dipped sharply to the right. Surprised confusion
momentarily clouded her brain. Moving . The car was moving. She must
have knocked the gearshift into neutral.
    She could fix that. Another
dip and the car started to roll down the hill. Dropping her glass,
she scrambled to rearrange her legs back into the proper position
beneath the steering wheel. But the confines of the little sports
car and the suddenly magnified-by-fear effects of the alcohol made
quick maneuvering impossible.
    The car pitched forward as
it gained momentum on a smoother downhill grade beyond the tall
grass.
    The brake! She needed to
hit the brake. Panic gushed through Caroline’s veins, instantly
sobering her. She grasped the steering wheel to navigate away from
the chapel looming in her path. The steering column was locked. She
grabbed for the keys in the ignition.
    There wasn’t even time to
scream. Before she could find and depress the brake the whole world
exploded around her. The air bag inflated, hurling her back against
the seat and obscuring her vision.
    Then everything stilled.
Caroline gasped for air. Her chest felt numb from the sudden,
forceful pressure of the now-deflating air bag. She blinked and
took stock of her surroundings. Lavender and rose colored balloons
floated heavenward around her. She frowned. What the...? Streamers
fluttered overhead from the rafters of the cathedral
ceiling.
    The
chapel .
    She had crashed into the
chapel, which was obviously decorated for a wedding that was likely
scheduled for this very day. And Caroline had ruined everything. As
if to punctuate her thought, a cluster of decorative silver wedding
bells collapsed onto the floor.
     
    ~*~
     
    Chase Garrett didn’t often
see strange things in these parts. The occasional drunken brawl or
teenage joy rider was about as exciting as things got around Lucy’s
Branch. But this, he had to admit, was damned strange. A brand new
cherry red Porsche with out of state license plates had all but
demolished one wall of the county’s historic wedding
chapel.
    He shook his head at the
unbelievable damage one compact car could wreak. Of course, the
building was vulnerable with age. Julie McGill sure as hell
wouldn’t be getting married today. Not here anyway. He wondered
briefly if he should call her mamma himself before word got out
about the accident.
    And to make matters worse,
Chase added, his mouth forming a grim line, the driver turned out
to be the one woman on the planet he never expected to see
again.
    Caroline .
    Chase shifted and ran the
fingers of one hand through his hair. Eight years was a long time.
Yet, in some ways, not long enough. His jaw hardened at the
memories surfacing like the images of a video on forward search.
The Caroline Gregory standing in front of him now in no way
resembled the girl he had known, known well, all those years ago.
Chase’s gaze swung from the tow truck hooking to the Porsche to the
trembling woman being examined by a paramedic. Caroline had
insisted that she was fine, but she had looked a little shocky and
a lot shaky to Chase.
    The short black dress and
spiked heels made Chase’s mouth go as dry as a plowed field in
August. When she had reached into her car to retrieve her purse,
Chase hadn’t missed the glimpse of black lacy garters holding up
those wicked stockings. The Caroline Gregory he remembered would
never have dressed like that. Not in a million years.
    But that mane of thick
black hair that hung around her small shoulders like a curtain of
silk, and those eyes, like translucent silver, he remembered all
too well. And then there was that mouth. He closed his eyes to
savor the memory of how it felt to kiss those lips. The natural
red, pouty kind that never needed enhancing with cosmetics, and
lush enough to make a preacher look at least twice.
    Chase’s body stirred in
response to the memories he had tried for the better part of a
decade