Three Brides, No Groom. Debbie Macomber

day in June from the back of Josh’s Harley. It went a long way, in fact, to assuaging the ache in her heart.

      She didn’t want to think about Roger or the wedding, and yet they filled every corner of her mind. She didn’t mention his name, not once, during any of their stops, but she talked about everything else without pausing for breath. Josh’s patience was nothing short of miraculous. She couldn’t remember ever being so talkative. She told him story upon story of growing up in San Francisco. She endlessly bragged about her older brother, and dragged out four or five pictures of her eighteen-month-old niece.

      At each stop Josh would sit on the rock-wall railing with his back to the ocean and listen as if he’d never heard anything more fascinating. Gretchen wished she’d paid more attention in psychology class so she could appreciate what was happening to her. Could analyze it and stop this infernal chattering.

      He rarely commented, just sat and listened, nodding and smiling now and again. Their last stop to view the scenery was Rockaway Beach. While standing in the glorious sunshine, looking out over the relentless surf, she started laughing as she told a story about her niece. She’d asked Jazmine to get her a pair of shoes, and the toddler had promptly delivered every pair Gretchen owned.

      As she neared the end of the tale, her laughter altered and unexpected tears flooded into her eyes. “I…I don’t know why I’m going on like this,” she said when she found it impossible to hide what was happening.

      “I know why.” He stood and gently placed his hands on her shoulders. Then, with a tenderness that made her want to weep even more, he pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. “It’s all right, Gretchen. Go ahead and cry. You’re hurting. The man you loved isn’t the person you thought he was.”

      Like water through a burst dam, her sobs broke free. They seemed to surge upward from the deepest part of her, until it wasn’t only her shoulders that shook but her entire body. She tried to break away from Josh, but he wouldn’t allow it. He pressed her closer, murmuring words of comfort all the while.

      She clung to him, burying her head against his shoulder, letting him absorb her anger and hurt. The roar of the ocean slamming against the rocks seemed to echo her pain.

      Once her energy was spent and her sobs turned to sniffles, she eased away, keeping her head lowered in embarrassment. He would have none of it. He tucked his index finger beneath her chin, raised her head and met her eyes.

      “It’s all right,” he said.

      A slight smile trembled at the corners of her mouth, and she nodded.

      “I give up.” The words were half whisper and half groan. As soon as he said them, he lowered his mouth to hers. The kiss was slow and deep, so deep she felt it all the way to her toes. Intense, yet incredibly tender.

      After a moment Josh slid his fingers into her short hair, cupping the sides of her head as he angled his mouth over hers, urging her lips apart with the tip of his tongue. He sighed when, in a daze, she accepted his invitation and opened for him. Shyly her tongue met his, but gradually she gained confidence as the kissing continued. What had begun as a slow easy exercise quickly became demanding and urgent.

      She wasn’t sure what would have happened if a car hadn’t pulled off the highway just then. Hearing the sound of wheels grinding against the gravel, Josh broke off contact. He studied her for a moment.

      “You OK?” he asked, touching his forehead to hers while holding her face between his hands.

      She nodded, not knowing how else to answer him. But she wasn’t OK. She’d been weeping for one man and kissing another. And liking it so much she hadn’t wanted to stop. She glared at the new arrivals, wishing they would leave, then realized how ridiculous she was being.

      “We better get back on the road,” Josh said, steering her toward the Harley.

      Although she followed him silently, her mind brewed with half-formed questions. First and foremost she wanted to know what had prompted him to kiss her. She didn’t want his pity, but at the same time, she knew she would be a fool to believe any part of that soul-stirring kiss had been because he felt sorry for her.

      Once she was safely tucked behind him on the Harley, he started the bike and steered them back onto the road. The wind whipped against her face, and she closed her eyes. Josh was dangerous—that was what she’d always heard. Now she knew why. The danger wasn’t his arrogance, the way he challenged authority or defied danger. It was the effortless way he could make a woman feel desirable.

      They didn’t stop again for what seemed like hours. The day before she had held herself away from Josh, her spine rigid, determined to minimize any physical contact. Not so now. Her grip around his waist was tight; she craved the physical reassurance of his solid body.

      Josh stopped in Tillamook when they hit a red light. “You hungry?” he asked.

      She realized, somewhat to her surprise, that she was. “Yeah, I guess I am.” Then, knowing their finances were limited, she asked, “What can we afford?”

      “Cheese.”

      “Cheese?” While she knew neither one of them had a lot of cash, she didn’t think they were in dire straits.

      “Some of the best in the country. I’ll show you.”

      Tillamook was home to a huge dairy-products factory. She smiled and flattened her cheek against his back, grateful to have him for a friend. It felt good and right to be this close to him. Her entire four years of college, she’d barely talked to him. By any reasonable measure they were little more than strangers, yet she felt closer to him after these two days together than she did to some of her sorority sisters with whom she’d lived for years.

      Josh turned left at the next light and then pulled into a large bustling parking lot. The building was enormous, complete with gift shop, touring areas, and plenty of free samples of a surprisingly large selection of cheeses and ice cream. He purchased a box of crackers, some cheese and a bottle of red wine.

      “For a picnic,” he explained, as they headed back to the bike. He smiled, and it was such a rare thing it caught her unawares.

      “You should do that more often,” she said, as she fastened the strap of her helmet. At the question in his eyes, she said, “Smile.”

      His response was to frown, drawing his thick eyebrows together and darkening his face. Not for the first time, she was struck by what an attractive man he was. She wasn’t alone, either. In the cheese factory, she had noticed a number of women openly assessing him. Apparently they liked what they saw. For his part, he appeared oblivious to the attention his looks generated.

      Seeing him now, wearing that well-practiced scowl, she couldn’t help it, she laughed outright. It was all for show. Beneath that dark brooding exterior lay a man with a kind and generous heart. A man she was only beginning to know, yet already liked immensely.

      “What?” he demanded.

      “You. Let’s get moving, pal. I’m hungry.”

      He grumbled something she couldn’t hear under his breath and climbed on the Harley. Without hesitation, she positioned herself behind him and automatically locked her arms around his middle. It felt so right and natural to be close to him. Less than twenty-four hours earlier she’d made the most daring move of her life by trusting him to deliver her home safely. And trust him she did, more with each passing hour.

      Josh found them a quiet corner on a secluded section of beach. The afternoon was glorious. The ocean breeze was blessedly cool, and a thicket of tall grass rustled softly behind them.

      They sat on the blanket, nibbling the cheese and crackers, and sipping the wine from plastic glasses. After a while, replete, Gretchen lay on her back and gazed at the sky. She was amazed by how tranquil, how at peace, she felt. Stretching her arms above her, she smiled lazily. All she could hear were the waves pounding the shore and the frantic cries of gulls.

      The wine seemed to have loosened her inhibitions—at least that was what she