Free Crashing the Congressman’s Wedding (Crimson Romance) by Elley Arden Page B

control?
    Scenes from the church flashed in his head, and he ground his teeth to dull their impact. He hated what happened there, the drama, the speculation, the stress that no doubt led to his mother’s heart attack. But as much as he hated the mess and his mistakes made on display, he couldn’t imagine not walking away. What was the alternative? Marrying a liar and a cheat wasn’t worth a thousand plastics plants. Nope. No changes there.
    But the beach was a different story.
    He growled and pounded his foot on the brake pedal milliseconds before he blew through the only stop sign on this side of town. Yeah, he’d change a thing or two about the beach. For starters, he wouldn’t have gone. He would’ve stayed in town, consoled his mother, and taken care of business. Instead, he dragged Alice to the beach and …
    Memories flickering in his head heated his face. He told himself to think of something else. His mother. The plastics plant. His reelection. Anything but Alice. He’d driven eleven hours without acknowledging what happened in that bed. He’d be damned if he gave it credence now. Bottom line, the longer he went without acknowledging it, the closer he’d be to forgetting it.
    Justin hit the gas again, spewing gravel in his wake, taking his eyes off the road for a moment to watch the plume of dirt in the mirror. When he looked forward again, he saw the one car he didn’t want to see. Morgan’s car sped past. There was no mistaking the vehicle; there was only one convertible Jaguar in Harmony Falls. And there was no mistaking Morgan’s destination; the road behind him dead-ended fifty feet from Alice’s house. He gripped the wheel, torn between the need to turn around and manage the confrontation and the need to move ahead and see his mother.
    Morgan turned around instead. Justin watched her pull a donut in the middle of the dirt road. She closed the gap between them in a matter of seconds. The closer her car got to his car, the tighter his hands wrapped around the wheel and the harder the muscles in his face clenched. More than once, his right foot twitched on a fleeting thought to slam the brakes. But at this speed, on these roads, someone would get hurt. Not that they weren’t already damaged.
    His cell phone rumbled in the cup holder beside him, and he glanced at the caller ID. Of course she’d call to demand he stop. Too bad for her he wasn’t going to answer. Looking in the rearview mirror, he saw her glaring, one hand on the wheel, the other gripping her phone. Nope. He wasn’t going to answer, and he wasn’t going to stop. If she wanted to talk to him, she was going to have to follow him. Not to the hospital. No, he wanted to avoid another scene. He would lead her to his house, lure her away from Alice, and say his piece in private.
    It seemed like a reasonable plan, but one block into town, Morgan turned right and disappeared. Panic pricked a path along his skin, and he locked his jaw, stifling the urge to turn around and follow her. He had to get a grip on this propensity to panic. The uncontrolled emotion led him to do stupid things. His mother needed to be his top concern. Like it or not, whatever was going to happen at the Cramer house was going to happen without him.
    His throat squeezed and his swallow turned painful against the blockage. Could he trust Alice to not make things worse? She had barely talked to him on the way home, preferring to sleep — or feign sleep. What words they did say were stilted and utilitarian. “Can you stop at the next rest area?” “I need gas.” “Mouse has to pee.”
    With a hand clammy from strangling the steering wheel, he lifted his cell phone and dialed Alice. The call went straight to voicemail.
    “Morgan may be headed your way,” he ground out after the beep. “Leave. Avoid the confrontation as long as possible, at least until we can go over what you should say.”
Stop telling me what to do,
she warned in his head.
But how could he when