Free Three Brides, No Groom by Debbie Macomber Page B

of her plight, her mother was sure to panic, and her father wouldn’t be
much better.
    Three days after her college graduation and she was on the
street, no better off than a bag lady. No, worse than a bag lady. Everything
she’d brought with her was packed on Josh’s Harley. She didn’t even have her
identification with her.
    She covered her face with both hands, questioning how she could
have done anything as stupid as walk away from her purse, all her funds and
clothes, and any chance she had of helping herself.
    Janet Mercer would help her, Gretchen realized, but she would
feel foolish asking, after rushing in and extolling Josh’s virtues to the
attorney earlier. Well, she had no one to blame but herself. She’d gotten
herself into this ridiculous mess, and by heaven, she would get herself out—one
way or another.
    The thought had no more filtered through her mind when she
heard the distinctive sound of a motorcycle. Her heart reacted with a wild surge
of hope, but that quickly died. Josh had made a point of telling her that he
wouldn’t chase after her, and she didn’t doubt for an instant that he’d meant
it.
    Nevertheless, it was Josh who slowly cruised past the park, his
eyes searching the grounds. The temptation to raise her arm and wave him over
was strong, but pride dictated that she do nothing. If he was really searching
for her, he would see her. Still, she had to practically sit on her hands to
keep from flagging him down.
    Josh saw her, Gretchen was certain, and she tilted her head
away, hoping to give the impression of royalty assessing her surroundings. But
he didn’t stop. Instead, he drove on past.
    Perhaps he was expecting her to come rushing after him and beg
him to take her home. Squeezing her eyes closed, she swallowed her
disappointment. Josh Morrow’s pride was legendary; he’d stood up to Dean
Williams and hadn’t flinched. He would have no problem walking away from
her.
    Just when she was ready to swallow her dignity and go to Janet
for help, she heard the motorcycle a second time. Her heart raced as she watched
Josh approach. Straightening her spine, she sat up, refusing to allow him to see
how distressed she actually was.
    He pulled into an empty parking slot at the tree-lined curb and
turned off the engine. He took his own sweet time removing his helmet and
climbing off the bike. Fascinated, she watched how every movement he made seemed
to be in slow motion. Not until he opened a saddlebag did she realize the reason
he’d come back. At least he had the decency to return her belongings.
    He approached her with all the enthusiasm of a man walking
toward the electric chair. He could have been a robot for all the emotion he
expressed. His gaze was as hard and unreadable as when she’d left him in front
of the courthouse. Wordlessly, he set the tote bag on the picnic table beside
her.
    “Thank you,” she mumbled. She bit her lower lip to keep from
saying more.
    “It was the electrical connector,” Josh told her. “It’d
vibrated loose.”
    She wanted to ask him if she’d somehow been responsible for
that, but resisted. Most likely he would be quick to blame her if she was and
reluctant to admit otherwise if not. His hesitation told her everything she
wanted to know.
    The words hung between them like a thick London fog.
    He glanced over his shoulder at the Harley, as if eager to
depart. Then he studied her for a moment. Was he assessing the damage his
carelessly flung accusations had done? At last he said, “I meant what I said. I
won’t beg you to come with me.”
    “I know.”
    He cracked a smile, not of amusement, but tempered with
chagrin. “You can be stubborn.”
    He hadn’t seen the half of it.
    He continued to study her; then his eyes softened. “Goodbye,
Gretchen.”
    He started back to his Harley, and she wound the straps of the
tote bag around her hand. “Josh!” she cried, leaping off the table.
    He turned back to face her.
    She wasn’t sure what she wanted