Three Brides, No Groom

“I can’t,” he muttered. He rubbed his hand down his face and shook his head, as if to clear his thoughts.

“You wanted something?” she asked. She drew the sweater more tightly about her and was glad she’d thought to wear socks. Frowning, she thought she smelled beer on him.

He seemed to read her thoughts. “I figured it’d take a little fortification to say what needs to be said.”

“It’s that bad?”

“It’s about what happened,” he said.

“What happened?” She wasn’t playing dumb. She honestly didn’t know what he meant.

“Us, you know?”

“About us…kissing, you mean?”

“Yeah.” He buried his hands in his jeans pockets, and his gaze stubbornly refused to meet hers.

Gretchen had never seen Josh look so self-conscious or tense. She waited, deciding to let him speak without further coaxing from her. The seconds ticked by, and still he remained silent.

At last he met her gaze and said, “Don’t put any stock in those kisses, all right?” His words were stark and half-angry.

At first she didn’t respond, but then she couldn’t keep from asking, “Why not?”

“Because,” he said forcefully, “girls like you don’t get involved with guys like me, understand?”

“Josh—”

He raised a hand, stopping her. “Let me speak. You’ve had a miserable couple of days, and—”

“But I haven’t, not really, I—” His gaze narrowed at her interruption and she shut up.

“You’re no longer engaged to Junior Warbucks. You’re separated from your family at a time when you need their love and support most. It’s only natural for you to turn to me for comfort—natural, but not advisable.”

“You’re making me sound like a child.”

“Whatever,” he announced crisply. “Listen, Gretchen, don’t set your sights on me. I’m not your type.”

She opened her mouth to argue that he was quite possibly exactly the type of man she could love, but he stopped her once again, yanking the rug out from under her feet.

“And you’re not my type, either,” he growled. “I can’t say it any plainer than that, can I?”

His words smarted, and she instinctively jerked back, as if she’d taken a punch in the solar plexus. Every breath brought her pain.

“I don’t mean to hurt your feelings,” he said. “You’re a sweet kid, but it’s best to get this out in the open before you end up getting hurt.”

He thought of her as a kid! Worse, a sweet kid! He made it sound like she was in pigtails, skipping down the beach licking a rainbow lollipop.

“I don’t want there to be any misunderstanding between us,” he continued. “I’ll deliver you to your family, and that’ll be the end of it. So don’t be putting any weight on that kiss. It should never have happened—but I blame myself. Rest assured, nothing like that will happen again.”

“That was what you wanted to say?” she asked, as though exceedingly bored. She wrapped her dignity about her as tightly as she had the sweater.

His eyes registered his surprise at her easy acceptance. “Yeah.”

“Fine, then, you’ve said it.”

He blinked once. No doubt he’d anticipated an argument. Well, she wasn’t about to give him one. If that was the way he felt, she wasn’t going to force herself on him. After all, she still had a thin layer of pride, which was about all she’d managed to salvage after Roger. And what little remained she was determined to guard very carefully.

“If you don’t have anything more to say, I’d like to go to bed.” She forced a loud yawn. She would go to bed, all right, but she knew it would be one hell of a long time before she slept.

Josh turned abruptly and walked away.

Gretchen shut the door, closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against the cool wood. Her heart was heavy. Practically speaking, she had no choice but to accept him at his word. But he hadn’t fooled her. He was interested in her. Very interested.