Toss the Bouquet Read Online Free PDF Page B

can talk about dresses and bridal and walks in the park and faith and babies and why Billy Joel songs are still the best.
    He left, of course.
    Tara watched as he turned and headed south outside the door. She had to keep herself from chasing him down. Grabbing his hand. Gazing up into those deep, brown eyes and drawing him back inside.
    She needed to get a grip. Her goal here was to learn as much about Elena’s Bridal as she could. She took a deep breath, tugged her sweater closer, and studied the store from records to rooms, gauging what worked and what didn’t.
    By three forty-five Tara had done all she could. She texted Greg not to worry about her, closed up the store and set the alarm, and started home, thinking. The information she’d gleaned concerned her.
    Maria Elena had a brilliant eye for gowns and placement, but when it came to social media and Internet presence, she’d crashed. The sales numbers for the past eighteen months had gone into a slow freefall as a result.
    Tara had a love/hate relationship with numbers. She loved their objective ease, but when they added up to a serious downward trend like she saw at Elena’s Bridal, she disliked them immensely. Was this the end of independent bridal salons? Had corporate-owned chains pushed everyone to big-box settings?
    The rain and sleet had stopped, but the temperatures were dropping fast. She pulled her coat closer around her and walked a little faster.
    A car pulled up alongside her. It wasn’t dark yet, but the heavy cloud cover, coupled with the shortened days of mid-January, made it dusky. A woman alone needed to be careful. She averted her gaze and sped up even more, ready to duck into a still-open drugstore just ahead.
    â€œTara? Why are you walking home?”
    Her heart did a quick tumble when Greg called her name, one of those crazy things that shouldn’t and couldn’t happen because Greg was her boss and a ladder-climbing lawyer. “You’re supposed to be watching football.”
    He double-parked the car, got out, and met her on the sidewalk. “It’s freezing out here.”
    â€œWalking warms you up.” She said it with a bravado her chilled limbs didn’t feel.
    â€œReally?” His look said he wasn’t buying it. “Get in, the car’s warm. I’ll drive you.”
    â€œNo, Greg, really, I’m fine.”
    He made a doubtful face, took her arm, and led her across the quiet street. “Warm is better. I promise.”
    Warm was better. It was so much better that she could have done a little happy dance as the blast of hot air from thecar heater enveloped her. She held back on the dance, but just barely.
    â€œI went to the store and you were gone. I thought we had this all arranged.”
    â€œI texted you.” She indicated the cell phone sitting between them. “Didn’t you get it?”
    He picked up the phone, opened it, and grimaced. “I did, but didn’t realize it. Sorry.”
    â€œI decided there was no reason to interrupt your one day off with driving across the city just to make sure I locked up. It seemed wrong to interrupt a guy and his football.” She kept her gaze on the street ahead, because making eye contact with Greg made it tough to maintain a keep-your-distance mindset. “Besides, walking makes me hearty. It refreshes the soul.”

    Her sensible reasoning would have been great if Greg had been able to focus on football.
    He hadn’t.
    He’d spent the afternoon wondering how she was doing. Did she need help? Did she have questions? And then the one thing she did text him about, he hadn’t noticed. “I appreciate your consideration, but you’ve gone above and beyond trying to school yourself in a job where there’s no one around to train you. I feel bad about that.”
    She raised her backpack and pulled out a bridal magazine. “I’ve been schooling myself for years.”
    He laughed.