Read Online Three Brides, No Groom by Debbie Macomber - Free Book Online
Authors: Debbie Macomber
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to the clerk for
confirmation.
“He owes me eight bucks for gas,” the man said.
“I’ll pay for the stupid gas!” Her heart hammered as she paced
in front of the police officer. Josh was now sitting in the patrol car, his eyes
closed as if he was mentally removing himself from the ugly scene.
“Do you have a license to drive that bike?” the patrolman asked
her.
She glanced over her shoulder at the Harley. Josh’s pride and
joy. The symbol of his rebellion. “Yes, I’ve got a license,” she lied, knowing
that if she didn’t, the police would impound the bike. Heaven only knew how long
it would be before Josh got it back, and she couldn’t risk that.
“You’ll take care of it, then?”
Although she knew it was pointless to protest, she did anyway.
“Look. Josh didn’t commit a robbery. He was with me all morning. We left Newport
Beach at seven. You can call the motel and they’ll verify…” She trailed off,
remembering that she was the one who’d registered for the room, not Josh. He
hadn’t spent the night with her. She couldn’t account for his whereabouts every
minute of the night. But in her heart, she knew he would never rob anyone.
“Leave it,” Josh said, his voice low and tight, sharp with
frustration.
Gretchen clenched her hands into fists, finding it impossible
to stand by and do nothing. She was the only one who appreciated how humiliating
this was for him. How difficult. The pain in his eyes when he’d told her about
his father being in prison haunted her. Now to face jail himself for something
he couldn’t have done, wouldn’t have done…
“Please,” she whispered, feeling helpless and small. She wasn’t
even sure who she was asking for help.
“We were in Newport Beach last night,” she said, so fast the
words ran together. She was willing to say anything, do anything, that would
convince the officer he had the wrong man.
A sly smile lit the patrolman’s face. “Yes, I know.”
She clamped her mouth shut, determined not to offer any more
unsolicited information. She wanted to help, not hurt, Josh’s cause. Her chest
tightened painfully, and she found it impossible to stand still.
The patrolman opened the driver’s door and climbed into the
vehicle. She planted her palms against the passenger window. “Josh!” she cried,
wanting somehow to reassure him.
He turned his head toward her. Afraid she was about to erupt
into sobs, she covered her mouth with her hand. Josh’s eyes steadily held hers,
and then he smiled. Through his anger, frustration and humiliation, he reached
out to her. He was the one reassuring her.
Gretchen bit her lower lip so hard she tasted blood.
“Miss, miss.” The clerk took hold of her shoulders and pulled
her away from the cruiser. She stood back helplessly as Josh was driven away,
her gaze following the car until it was no longer in sight.
The clerk waited an impatient moment while she composed
herself, then asked, “You going to pay for that gas or not?”
“Yes,” she murmured, and stepped back into the store.
When she was back outside, she crossed to the Harley, donned
Josh’s leather jacket, dark glasses and helmet, and swung one leg over the seat,
pretending she knew what she was doing. Not only did she not have a motorcycle
license, she hadn’t so much as twisted the key in the ignition before. She felt
like weeping.
Dragging in a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and
decided then and there that she would find a way not only to start the bike, but
ride it. She had to do it for Josh.
He’d been there for her when she’d needed him, hadn’t he? He’d
taught her so much about herself in the past couple of days. She’d felt helpless
and lost when they’d started out together. But he’d believed in her, restored
her faith in herself. She wasn’t going to let him down.
The bike felt enormous between her legs, a monster ready to
overpower her. Her grip tightened on the handlebars. She refused to give in
confirmation.
“He owes me eight bucks for gas,” the man said.
“I’ll pay for the stupid gas!” Her heart hammered as she paced
in front of the police officer. Josh was now sitting in the patrol car, his eyes
closed as if he was mentally removing himself from the ugly scene.
“Do you have a license to drive that bike?” the patrolman asked
her.
She glanced over her shoulder at the Harley. Josh’s pride and
joy. The symbol of his rebellion. “Yes, I’ve got a license,” she lied, knowing
that if she didn’t, the police would impound the bike. Heaven only knew how long
it would be before Josh got it back, and she couldn’t risk that.
“You’ll take care of it, then?”
Although she knew it was pointless to protest, she did anyway.
“Look. Josh didn’t commit a robbery. He was with me all morning. We left Newport
Beach at seven. You can call the motel and they’ll verify…” She trailed off,
remembering that she was the one who’d registered for the room, not Josh. He
hadn’t spent the night with her. She couldn’t account for his whereabouts every
minute of the night. But in her heart, she knew he would never rob anyone.
“Leave it,” Josh said, his voice low and tight, sharp with
frustration.
Gretchen clenched her hands into fists, finding it impossible
to stand by and do nothing. She was the only one who appreciated how humiliating
this was for him. How difficult. The pain in his eyes when he’d told her about
his father being in prison haunted her. Now to face jail himself for something
he couldn’t have done, wouldn’t have done…
“Please,” she whispered, feeling helpless and small. She wasn’t
even sure who she was asking for help.
“We were in Newport Beach last night,” she said, so fast the
words ran together. She was willing to say anything, do anything, that would
convince the officer he had the wrong man.
A sly smile lit the patrolman’s face. “Yes, I know.”
She clamped her mouth shut, determined not to offer any more
unsolicited information. She wanted to help, not hurt, Josh’s cause. Her chest
tightened painfully, and she found it impossible to stand still.
The patrolman opened the driver’s door and climbed into the
vehicle. She planted her palms against the passenger window. “Josh!” she cried,
wanting somehow to reassure him.
He turned his head toward her. Afraid she was about to erupt
into sobs, she covered her mouth with her hand. Josh’s eyes steadily held hers,
and then he smiled. Through his anger, frustration and humiliation, he reached
out to her. He was the one reassuring her.
Gretchen bit her lower lip so hard she tasted blood.
“Miss, miss.” The clerk took hold of her shoulders and pulled
her away from the cruiser. She stood back helplessly as Josh was driven away,
her gaze following the car until it was no longer in sight.
The clerk waited an impatient moment while she composed
herself, then asked, “You going to pay for that gas or not?”
“Yes,” she murmured, and stepped back into the store.
When she was back outside, she crossed to the Harley, donned
Josh’s leather jacket, dark glasses and helmet, and swung one leg over the seat,
pretending she knew what she was doing. Not only did she not have a motorcycle
license, she hadn’t so much as twisted the key in the ignition before. She felt
like weeping.
Dragging in a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and
decided then and there that she would find a way not only to start the bike, but
ride it. She had to do it for Josh.
He’d been there for her when she’d needed him, hadn’t he? He’d
taught her so much about herself in the past couple of days. She’d felt helpless
and lost when they’d started out together. But he’d believed in her, restored
her faith in herself. She wasn’t going to let him down.
The bike felt enormous between her legs, a monster ready to
overpower her. Her grip tightened on the handlebars. She refused to give in
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