of space created by the door and car body. “Yeah, I’m fine. Was just…thinking. Kind of waiting until after five so I wouldn’t bother anybody with the noise of the vacuum.” How slovenly she felt in her faded sweat suit next to him in his neat twill trousers and navy-blue polo shirt. The fabric lay smooth over his flat belly and was tucked into his pants. She couldn’t wear anything tucked in. And her tops couldn’t lay smooth because her belly wasn’t flat.
She jammed her hands into her pockets and tried to crisscross the open jacket tails over her stomach. The zipper halves overlapped, but that was it, leaving her feeling exposed and embarrassed. “Is everybody done for the day?”
“Brother and Sister Kraft went to visit a couple of members who recently moved into a retirement home. I doubt they’ll come back to the church after their visit. I can be done for the day if it’d be easier for you to do your work with me out of the way.”
Did he have to be so nice? He was kind. And good looking. Smart. A minister. He was perfect. Too perfect for her. Her head knew it. But how would she convince her heart? She opened her mouth to tell him yes, it would be easier to clean the place if she was by herself, but her traitorous tongue went rogue. “You can stay if you want to.”
“Good.” He bobbed his neatly bearded chin toward the front doors. “Let’s both go in, then, huh? It’s cold out here, and I wasn’t savvy enough to put on a jacket today.”
She stepped away from the car, and Jase pushed the door shut. Then he escorted her to the front double doors and opened one for her. Inside, he paused and turned a serious look on her. “Have you been sick?”
A squiggly strand of hair had come loose from her ponytail and tickled her cheek. She anchored it behind her ear, then returned her hand to her pocket. “Yeah. I was pretty sick on Sunday. A touch of the flu, I think.” Liar.
“Is that why you didn’t pop in and say hi when you were here cleaning on Tuesday?”
Did he have to give her the third degree? How was she supposed to answer? Honesty would make her look like a dolt. If she lied, the resulting guilt would send her diving headfirst into a pint—no, a quart—of ice cream. “Well…”
He smiled, his eyes sad. “I think I know why.”
Her heart went ka-wump. “Y-you do?”
“Yeah.” He slipped his hands into his trouser pockets and lowered his head, peering at her past the hank of red-brown hair flopping over his forehead. “I think I might have offended you by praying with Kenzie.”
What kind of person would take offense at a prayer? If he wanted to make her feel even more ashamed, he’d found the means.
“I’ve been thinking about it, and I can imagine what it looked like from your point of view when you came into the room. But honestly, all I did was hold her hand and pray. We weren’t doing anything sneaky behind your back.”
“That’s what Kenzie told me.” Hands in her pockets, she straightened her arms and stretched the fabric across her stomach. “And I believed her. She said she’d tell me what y’all”—had she really said y’all?—“were praying about, but she hasn’t had a chance yet. She and I, um, haven’t really been together much since I didn’t pick her up for church Sunday and my job here takes up some evenings.” She’d missed Kenzie, too. The past evenings had been as lonely as when she’d hidden away in her room during her teenage years.
Jase smiled, and the outer corners of his eyes crinkled. “Well, I hope y’all will get together now that you’re feeling better.” He paused and curiosity lit his face. “Say, speaking of Kenzie, do you know if she brought a pan of brownies by the church last week?”
Lori’s eyes bulged, and her frame went stiff. “What did she tell you?”
“She didn’t say anything. But one day when I was leaving the church, I smelled brownies. I think it was Monday.” He rolled his eyes upward. “Yeah, Monday, and I found brownies. I’m pretty sure they were made from Kenzie’s recipe. There’s something different about the way they smell. Richer. Darker, if you know what I mean.”
Lori knew what he meant. Her mouth went dry, and she felt as if her tongue fastened itself to the