Toss the Bouquet Read Online Free PDF Page A

into Greg Elizondo’s big brown eyes for oh, say, forever?
    She couldn’t risk it.
    She’d be kind, friendly, and compassionate because the guy had been through a grievous loss, but that’s where she’d draw the line. Greg’s professional record and competitive nature put him in the “Danger Zone” category. She glanced at the clock and hurried out the door to catch the midmorning service in the two-towered church around the corner.
    With God comes joy.
    Bells chimed happiness around the City of Brotherly Love every Sunday morning, their call a reminder of what built this great nation: the longing for religious freedom.
    She slipped into the church, loving the brass-trimmed old lighting, the ornate wooden panels, and the carved balustrade wrapping the choir loft.
    A blue-robed woman waved from above. Her friend Truly Dixon.
    Tara waved back as the gospel group began a harmonized hum before breaking into the opening song of praise.
    Tara left the church an hour later feeling energized, ready to walk the one-point-five miles to the bridal store.
    Ice-cold, wind-driven rain changed her mind. She waited in the covered entry of the church for a bus, dashed across the road when she saw it approaching, and took a full-on splash from a careless driver heading in the opposite direction.
    A few minutes later Tara arrived at the store—nearly an hour before she was scheduled to meet Greg. She sighed,scanning her options. The full-frontal drenching had put a damper on her church-inspired hope.
    A nearby coffee shop smelled marvelous and looked warm.
    She succumbed to the temptation, grabbed a plain coffee, and doctored it up with mocha powder, cream, and a dash of vanilla. It wasn’t fancy, but it was tasty and cheap, and these days, that was her rule of thumb.

    The church bells woke Greg, as they always did on Sunday morning. Bright, vibrant, ringing in the new day with a gusto that should be reserved for classic movies.
    Make a joyful noise unto the Lord.
    One of Maria Elena’s favorite verses nudged him. She’d have been there this morning, singing. Praising. Praying.
    And he’d have rolled his eyes, turned over, and gone back to sleep. But the bell’s tolling seemed even more enthusiastic than usual.
    Rain drummed overhead.
    Sleet beat against his back window.
    Clearly the bell’s excitement wasn’t weather related.
    Tara.
    He jumped up, scanned the clock, and panicked. Those were the noon service bells, not the early ones. He’d promised to meet Tara at noon, and apparently he had slept through the first bells and was already late. He threw on some clothes, grabbed his coat, and jogged toward the shopping district.
    The miserable weather magnified his guilt as he passedthe mission and hooked a left. She was trying to do him a good turn, learn the business he was in danger of losing, and now he’d kept her waiting. Talk about a first-class jerk.
    He reached the shop and headed for the door, then heard his name and turned. Tara was hailing him from the coffee shop across the street with a look of . . . welcome expectation? Her kindness pushed him undeservedly into the “hero” category.
    â€œGood morning.” Gladness brightened her face as he crossed the road. “I got here early and grabbed coffee.”
    Greg tapped his watch apologetically. “Technically afternoon, my bad, and coffee sounds like an excellent idea.” He grinned down at her and fought the sweet swell of emotion growing within. Her forthright smile was absolutely contagious. He eyed her empty cup. “Can I get you another?”
    She shook her head.
    â€œYou might want one later, and you can’t leave the store with the doors open,” he reminded her. “Although you could always lock up and run over. And you had no problem making me buy you food last night,” he added. “So I would think a Sunday coffee would fall within the parameters of compensation