Page 42 of Wrapped Up in Christmas Hope
But he kept thinking of Greyson’s invitation. Could he really disappoint the kid by not showing?
He looked at his watch. He’d either have to take Big Bertha or not go. He’d be late if he went to change, but he at least needed to swap jackets or he’d turn into an icicle on the short ride over to the church. He ran back into his house and got his jacket and helmet.
Donning his helmet, he straddled the Harley. “Looks like you’re going to church, Ole Girl.”
One kick start of his leg and her engine purred to life. Purred? More like roared to life. Guiding the motorcycle out onto Main Street, Andrew squeezed the handlebar, revving the engine and taking off toward the church.
Cold wind hit him in the face and cut through his clothes as he made short work of the distance between his place and the church. It wasn’t that far, and he knew he had enough time, but he still breathed a sigh of relief when the church’s steeple came into view.
No doubt Bertha’s roar meant that everyone inside the church building would know he was there even prior to his pulling into the parking lot.
So much for his making a good impression.
Had that been what he’d been trying to do? To make a good impression on Morgan? Well, at least, he was there. At church. Not early, but not late, either. That had to count for something, right?
Ben was a churchgoer and would be there. Sophie likely had a spot reserved for Cole in a near-the-front pew. They’d know that he was there, and they wouldn’t buy that he was there for Greyson. His friends would give him plenty of grief over this one, but he didn’t care.
This wasn’t about Ben or Cole, or even Morgan, really...although his pulse raced at the thought that he’d see her in a few minutes.
This morning was about Greyson.
Greyson had invited him, and the kid had had enough disappointments in life. Andrew wouldn’t be another.
Not over something as simple as giving the kid an hour of his time.
Chapter Eight
Greyson wiggled in his seat, turning to look at the back entrance yet again. Morgan wanted to tell him to face forward, but she didn’t. She understood why he was doing it. It was all she could do not to turn to look, as well.
Which was silly.
She didn’t really expect Andrew to come to church just because Greyson had invited him and they’d almost kissed...did she?
Immediately, she scolded her subconscious, because what did their almost-kiss have to do with anything? Hadn’t she decided during the long hours of the night that she was glad Greyson had interrupted them? The last thing she needed was to get further involved with Andrew.
Outside the sanctuary, a motorcycle thrummed. From the pew in front of where Morgan sat with her grandparents, Ruby turned, her eyes bright with excitement, and a big smile on her wrinkled face.
“Did you invite Andrew to church?”
The motorcycle was Andrew? Morgan’s breath caught. Of course, it was. Hadn’t Suzie mentioned that Andrew rode a motorcycle?
“I invited him. I hope he comes,” Greyson piped up from where he sat between Morgan and Grammy. He’d been telling an attentive Grammy about what he’d learned in Bible class that morning, but at the prospect of Andrew arriving, everything else was forgotten.
“Good job, Greyson,” Ruby beamed, looking as if she were about to pop with excitement, “because that sure sounded like Big Bertha.”
“Big Bertha?” Morgan asked.
“His motorcycle,” Andrew’s grandmother told her, an indulgent look on her face. “I don’t really approve of such things, but boys will be boys, and he’s always had a penchant for bikes.”
“Motorcycles are cool,” Greyson said from beside her.
Ruby laughed. Morgan didn’t.
Greyson practically jumped up and down in the pew he bounced so much as he waved toward the back of the auditorium.
“There he is. He’s here.” He turned and grinned at Morgan, then bounced and waved more. “Andrew, here we are!”
“Shhhh, Greyson, we’re in church. You can’t yell,” Morgan said, placing her hand on her son’s shoulder in hopes of calming him down a bit. Ha. She needed someone to calm her down a bit.
