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The Bridal Swap
The Bridal Swap
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The Bridal Swap

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“I know he’s not a common laborer, like me. What does he do? Or rather, what does his family do? He probably hasn’t worked a day in his life.” He couldn’t disguise the bitterness in his voice.

I’m sorry, God. I can’t help envying the guy. He got the girl, and I’m left here to pick up the pieces.

Indignation flashed in her eyes. “There’s nothing common about you. My sister chose flash and glamour over depth and substance. She made a foolish decision.”

Her words sparked an odd pang in his chest. He couldn’t figure out why she was defending him. She didn’t know him. Not really. Except, she had listened to his letters and glimpsed into his soul without his consent.

“Don’t get me wrong,” she hastened to add, “I love my sister. It’s just that we each have our own opinions of what’s important in life.”

He found that difficult to believe. They might disagree on specifics, but their outlook couldn’t be all that different. They shared the same upbringing, the same advantages.

Proposing marriage to a woman so far above his station had been a colossal mistake. He should’ve realized from the beginning that their worlds were too far apart.

“I just don’t get it,” he wondered aloud. “Why not break off the engagement the moment she decided to patch things up with him?”

She edged closer to the water, stepping on a smooth, slanted rock scattered with orange leaves. “I wish I had an answer for you. Her behavior is as much a mystery to me as it is to you.”

“The two of you aren’t close?”

She frowned. “No.”

He wanted to question her further, to ask why her parents hadn’t invited her to join them in Europe, but it was none of his business. Soon she’d be gone and he wouldn’t have to spare another thought on the Morgan family.

She pointed to a rounded shell bobbing above the surface. “Do you know what kind of turtle that is?”

“Can’t rightly say, but there are a number of painted box turtles hereabouts.”

“A pity it moves too quickly for my camera.”

His eyes on the turtle, he hadn’t noticed her getting closer to the rock’s edge.

“Be careful,” he warned, holding out a hand. “Those rocks can be slippery—”

“All I want is a closer look.”

One moment she was standing, bent at the hip with hands braced against her knees. An instant later, she was facedown in the stream.

Dropping his pole, Josh strode through the thigh-deep water. Wrapping his arm around her, his hand curled around her waist, he helped her stand. “Are you hurt?”

A bubble of laughter escaped as she wiped the moisture from her eyes. Her mouth a breath away from his ear, the soft, husky sound shot liquid fire through his veins.

“I’m fine.” Taking stock of her sodden clothing, she grimaced. “My pride is a bit bruised, however. You did warn me, didn’t you?”

Josh couldn’t stop his smile. “Did you get that closer look you wanted?”

“No. I guess he didn’t want to stick around for all the excitement.”

A shiver coursed through her body. Though it was a warm September day, the water was cool. And she was wet from head to toe, the layers of clothing clinging to her petite yet womanly frame. Water dripped from her hair onto his shirt.


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