Third Time's a Charm

by Virginia Smith

  “Are you okay to drive?” she asked as they approached their cars.

  “Of course I am.” His eyebrows waggled and he leaned toward her. “Unless you want to take me home.”

  “Tempting, but no.” The smile she gave him was chilly, but he seemed not to notice. “But I can call you a taxi if you like.”

  He scoffed. “What for? I’m fine.”

  “Okay, if you say so.”

  She opened her purse and held it up to catch the glow from the streetlight so she could see inside for her keys. In the next instant, she found herself pressed against her car door, Mitch’s face inches from hers. On either side of her head was one of Mitch’s arms, elbows locked, his hands resting on the car window.

  “What are you doing, Mitch?”

  “Well, I was hoping for a goodnight kiss.”

  His eight-inch height advantage seemed to double as he loomed over her. Though he wasn’t nearly as muscular as Ryan, a jolt of fear shot through Tori as she realized her coworker was no weakling. And she, most definitely, was. He could probably overpower her without breaking a sweat.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Oh, but I do, Tori.”

  His whisper smelled strongly of alcohol, tainted with a hint of garlic. Her stomach gave a queasy lurch. She wasn’t afraid of the Mitch she knew from work, but alcohol made people do crazy things. She had to get control of the situation, quickly, and get out of here.

  “You have ten seconds to back off.” She poured steel into her tone. “Or else.”

  He leaned closer, his alcoholic breath nearly smothering her. “Or else, what?”

  “I have two knees, Mitch, and I know how to use them.”

  Surprised, he jerked backward, his palms held toward her. “Gee, Sanderson, no need to get hostile.”

  Relieved, she pressed a button on her remote by feel and heard a click as the doors unlocked. Without another word, she opened her door just wide enough to slip inside. Mitch backed up to lean against the hood of his car as she started her engine, shifted into gear, and pulled away. Only when he was no longer visible in her rearview mirror did she relax her clutch on the steering wheel.

  What a terrible night. At least she’d solved one question in her mind. A relationship with Mitch away from the office was not an option. It would probably take a while for her to feel comfortable working with him in the office after tonight.

  And what about when this competition was over, and one of them became the other’s boss?

  With a sinking feeling, Tori headed for home. Maybe she should check the want ads again before she started working on that analysis.

  14

  When Ryan entered the church building on Sunday morning, it was with a slow footstep. He’d driven through the rows in the parking lot looking for a white Toyota, but it wasn’t there. Maybe Tori was working again. Or maybe she was avoiding church because she didn’t want to see him. And maybe that was for the best.

  Every time he’d started to call her since their date Wednesday night, something stopped him. First, he told himself he didn’t want to appear too eager. She’d agreed to go out to the farm on Sunday, and that was soon enough to see her again. Second, what could he talk about? He couldn’t ask her out again for the simple fact that he had blown his food budget for the entire month on their two dates. He wouldn’t starve, not with Mom loading him up with leftover roast beef or chicken every time he stopped by the house, but he couldn’t very well ask Tori over to the cracker box he lived in for a dinner of his parents’ leftovers.

  But there was a deeper reason his hand froze every time he reached for the phone. The time he’d spent with her had confirmed what he’d known all along—Tori Sanderson and he lived in different worlds, no matter what her sisters and his sister-in-law said. She drove a nicer car. Lived in a much nicer place. Worked in a stylish office with professional men who had paychecks to match their egos. What did he have to offer?

  The church building bustled with activity this morning. Ryan sidestepped a laughing pair of preteen girls running up the stairs as he made his way to the basement, where most of the Sunday school rooms were. He nodded hello to Mrs. Bowers and Mrs. Penegor, on their way to the nursery with toddlers in tow. When he turned the corner toward his classroom, he heard his name.

  “Ryan, wait up.”

  No mistaking that voice. His stomach did a weird flip-flop as he turned to see Tori hurrying to catch up with him. The smile on her face lit the windowless hallway like a beacon, and as she neared, he looked into small pieces of summer sky framed by her delicate lashes.

  His resolve evaporated like mist in the sunshine of her smile. Maybe she wouldn’t mind leftover chicken so much.

  She hurried up to him, looking so happy to see him for one crazy moment Ryan thought she might kiss him on the cheek in a friendly greeting. She stopped just short of that, but her hand on his arm sent an army of goose bumps marching over his skin.

  “I tried to catch you in the parking lot, but I guess you didn’t hear me.”

  “N-no. Sorry.” He gulped. “I was hoping you’d be here this morning.”

  “Well, I should be working instead of listening to Mr. Carmichael’s captivating Sunday school lesson.” The grimace she gave him managed to be expressive and cute at the same time. “But I couldn’t face another day in that office. Besides, I’ve got plenty of work I can do from the comfort of my apartment later tonight.”

  “I’m afraid you’re out of luck if you were counting on one of Mr. Carmichael’s lessons.” He put a hand on her back while they walked toward their room. “His mother has been sick, so he’s spending a lot of weekends down in Knoxville.”

  “That’s too bad.” She grinned. “About his mother, I mean. Not about the lesson. So, who’s teaching in his place?”

  “Joan didn’t mention it?” They approached the door. “Ken.”

  “Oh. Well, he certainly knows the Bible.”

  Did he imagine it, or did she roll her eyes? Just what was it Tori had against her future brother-in-law? Ken was a great guy, caring and intelligent. Ryan liked hanging out with him in hopes that some of his solid faith would rub off. Maybe this afternoon he’d ask her about it.

  But at that moment, they entered the room and Tori was swept into her sister’s hug. Joan guided her to an empty pair of chairs. Ryan took the seat next to Tori, then looked up to the head of the table. Gordy Reynolds sat in the teacher’s place, his Bible and a Sunday school booklet opened in front of him. Ryan scanned the room and found Ken seated on the other side of Joan.

  “Hey, man, what are you doing up there?” he asked Gordy.

  Gordy sat taller in the chair. “I’m the substitute teacher, dude.”

  Of everyone in the class, Gordy was the last person Ryan thought would agree to step into Mr. Carmichael’s place. Not that his faith wasn’t sincere, but Gordy wasn’t exactly studious. He was better with a basketball than a Bible. Around the room, Ryan saw his own skepticism reflected on every face.

  Beside him, Tori’s eyes widened with disbelief. “You?”

  “Me.” Gordy’s lips twisted into a sheepish grin. “Go figure, huh?”

  Tori gave a small laugh. “Yeah. Go figure.”

  Ryan caught Ken’s eye and asked an unspoken question by lifting his eyebrows. Ken responded with a very slight shrug. His glance rested on Tori for a second, then his attention slid to Gordy. Ryan turned back around. For the first time, he noticed Gordy’s hair was sculpted spikier than normal, like he’d spent extra time on it. And his shirt wasn’t wrinkled, either.

  Gordy got up out of the chair. “Okay, everybody, let’s get started.” He closed the door and paced back to his place at the head of the table, but didn’t sit down. “Ken’s gonna pray, then I’ll teach.”

  Just before Ryan bowed his head, he caught a glimpse of Gordy’s hands clutching the back of the chair. They trembled. Poor guy was nervous.

  Ken’s prayer was short, and then Ryan turned toward Go
rdy. He’d made a mistake in the seating arrangements. Looking in this direction, Tori sat behind him. If he’d taken the other chair, he’d have her in his line of sight as he watched Gordy.

  Gordy picked up the booklet on the table in front of him. “Somebody want to look up the Bible verse? It’s John 13:12–17.” His glance scanned the room, and settled on Ryan. “What about you, dude?”

  Ryan shrugged. “Sure.” He leaned forward and picked up one of the Bibles scattered across the center of the table. The passage in John relayed Jesus’ words to His disciples right after He finished washing their feet. He read it, then closed the Bible.

  “That’s the one.” Gordy opened the booklet Mr. Carmichael usually taught from, glanced at it, and closed it again. He held it up for their inspection. “Now, the lesson in this book is good, but before we talk about washing dirty feet, I wanted to say something else. I’ve been thinking about this ever since Ken twisted my arm to teach today.” The class chuckled, and Gordy grinned in Ken’s direction. “Jesus said He set an example for us, and we’re supposed to do what He did.” His gaze fell on Ryan. “No offense, dude, but I’ve smelled your feet after an hour on the basketball court, and they’re rank.”

  Behind him, Tori’s giggle joined with several others. Ryan scowled at Gordy. Great. Announce to the woman I’m trying to impress that I have stinky feet.

  Gordy stepped away from the chair and paced a couple of steps to the side. “Now, I started thinking about that. Does Jesus really want me to get down on my knees and scrub the toe jam out of somebody’s stinking dogs?”

  “I think He does,” said Brittany Daniels, who was seated across from Ken. “Y’all remember I told you about a foot washing I went to in Lexington a few months ago.”

  “Yeah, but that’s supposed to stand for serving others. It’s, like, a symbol, you know?” Gordy held the Sunday school booklet aloft, shaking it for emphasis. “We’re gonna talk in a minute about how Jesus was telling us we were supposed to be servants. But first I want to tell you something I thought about. When I read that piece in the Bible, I couldn’t stop thinking about Jesus saying He set us an example. I mean, that’s large, you know? That’s like, Whoa, Dude. How am I supposed to do all the stuff You did, you know?” He looked around the table, his gaze coming to rest on Ryan. “So I got to thinking, what Jesus was telling us to do is like playing Guitar Hero.”

  Ryan ducked his head to hide his smile, and risked a glance at Tori. She was looking at their substitute teacher as though she couldn’t decide whether to laugh or scoff. Behind Tori, Joan let out an audible groan. But Ken nodded and said encouragingly, “Go on.”

  Gordy set the booklet on the table and held out his hands, palms up. “Now, I know it’s weird, but stay with me on this. When I’m on lead guitar and I play a song for the first time, I pretty much stink. Since we’re in church, let’s say I’m playing ‘Living on a Prayer’ by Bon Jovi.” He grinned, and pretended to hold a guitar, feet spread apart. “I know the song, but I’ve never played it, you know? So at first I bomb big time. I get booed off the stage. But I’m just learning. I’m watching the screen, watching the music, trying to act out what I’m seeing and hearing. And the more I practice, the better I get.”

  As he spoke, his hands strummed his air guitar, his weight shifting from one bent knee to the other. Then he threw back his head and broke into song, the Bon Jovi lyrics bouncing off the classroom walls.

  Laughing along with everyone else, Ryan caught Tori’s gaze. Amusement made her eyes twinkle.

  Gordy dropped his fictitious guitar and stood behind his chair. “I think that’s what Jesus is saying here. We’re the ones with the arms and legs and hands and feet. We’re the ones holding the guitar. But He’s the one who wrote the song. Unless we’re watching for Him to tell us what chords to play, we can stand up there and strum all we want, but we’re gonna crash and burn.” He lunged forward and grabbed his Bible. “And this is like our video screen. It’s got all the notes of His song already laid out. We’ve just got to read them, and then act them out.”

  He stopped and sent a stupid grin around the table. “So, what do you think?”

  Brittany shook her head. “I almost hate to say it, but that makes sense.”

  “It sure does.” Ken applauded, and a few people joined in. “Not bad, Gordy.”

  “Thank you.” Gordy took an elaborate bow before finally sitting in his chair. “Okay, now, here’s what the Sunday school lesson book had to say about the whole example thing.” He opened the book and started reading aloud.

  Tori leaned forward, and Ryan tilted his head to hear her whisper. “That actually did make sense.”

  Ryan laughed quietly and whispered back, “Scary, isn’t it? The Gospel according to Guitar Hero.”

  Her breath tickled his ear. “Mr. Carmichael would have a fit.”

  They exchanged a smile, and she settled back in her seat. Behind her, Joan was watching them with satisfaction etched on her face. She crossed her arms and gave Ryan a nod.

  The delicious aroma of Gram’s crock pot rump roast filled the house when Tori came through the front door.

  “Oh, yum.” She stopped just inside, eyes closed, nose held high. “I just want to stand here and breathe for a couple of hours.”

  Joan slipped in behind her. “Well, close the door first, because you’re letting out the a/c along with the good smells.”

  Tori did as she was told. Just before the door clicked shut, she noticed Ken striding across the front lawn toward his house. “Is he going to change clothes?”

  “Yes.” Joan’s voice floated up from her downstairs bedroom.

  Tori followed her and flopped onto her sister’s bed while Joan slipped out of her church clothes and into a pair of jeans.

  “Are you wearing that to meet Ryan’s parents?” Joan nodded toward Tori’s summer dress before she slipped her arms and head into a T-shirt.

  “No, I have a change of clothes in the car.” She kicked her shoes off and stretched her legs out on the bed. “Joan, Ryan told me Ken has been filling in for Mr. Carmichael recently.”

  “Mmm hmm.” Joan’s head emerged from the collar of her shirt.

  “Why didn’t he do it today?”

  Her sister paused in the act of finger-combing her hair. “The truth?”

  “Of course.”

  “I told him you’d probably be here this morning, and he didn’t want to teach in front of you.”

  Tori sat straight up. “Why not?”

  Joan dropped to the mattress beside her. “Because you think he’s a fanatic, and he didn’t want to perpetuate the idea.” She put a hand on Tori’s arm. “He really wants you to like him.”

  So now she was some sort of anti-religious witch? Tori drew her mouth into a pout. “He doesn’t have to walk on eggshells around me. Now I feel like a jerk.”

  “Don’t. Just be yourself.” Joan’s grin grew shrewd. “It seems to be working well with Ryan.”

  Tori looked away. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Her evasion earned her a punch on the arm. “Gimme a break. You two have a Thing going, don’t you? Why else would he want to introduce you to his parents?”

  She raised her nose. “I’ll have you know, I’m not going to the farm to meet his parents. I’m going to meet his pigs.”

  For a fraction of a second, Joan’s stare held disbelief. Then she dissolved into laughter. “No way.”

  “Yes way. He told me he’s going to show me a real farm.” She grinned. “But I know the parents are part of it.”

  “And you’re okay with that?”

  Tori plucked a fuzzy from Joan’s blanket off her dress and didn’t answer. She didn’t know exactly what she felt about Ryan. They’d had a good time together Tuesday and Wednesday. Looking at the pictures of Daddy had been so much easier with him beside her, and he’d seemed to understand her hesitancy even though he came from a normal family. And there was no doubt she was attracted to him physically. But she’d also b
een attracted to Mitch until last night’s disastrous “research trip.”

  Joan nudged her with a shoulder. “Still not sure, huh?”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Has he kissed you yet?”

  Tori shook her head.

  Joan’s smile was loaded with secret knowledge. “When he does, you’ll know.”

  Tori rolled her eyes. “Oh, puh-lease. I’ve kissed guys before who turned out to be real jerks, and liked it.” She arched her eyebrows. “And so have you. Remember Clyde Cummins?”

  Bringing up Joan’s first crush was a dirty trick, but Tori didn’t hesitate. What were sisters for, anyway?

  “Aaah!” Joan threw herself backward into the pillows. “I can’t believe you’re throwing Clyde in my face. I was in seventh grade! Nobody has good boy-sense in seventh grade.”

  Tori laughed. “You sure didn’t.”

  “Well, I have no defense for the Clyde crush. All I can say is kissing him and any other guy I may have kissed in my past just gave me a basis for comparison.”

  “Even Roger?” Tori hesitated to bring up Joan’s longtime boyfriend who dumped her last year. The whole family had been really worried about Joan when Roger broke her heart by marrying a co-worker not long after the breakup.

  But there was no sadness in Joan’s face as she gave a decisive nod. “Even Roger.” She snatched up a tube-shaped decorative pillow and hugged it, sighing happily. “You know what the song says. The only way to tell if a guy really loves you is in his kiss. ”

  Tori asked dryly, “You’re not going to go jump up and start playing air guitar, are you?”

  Laughter bubbled from Joan’s throat. “That was hysterical. Leave it to Gordy. I’m glad you were there to witness the spectacle.”

  “You know what?” Tori settled back into the pillows and tilted her head sideways to lean on her sister’s shoulder. “Me too.”