by Janice Sims
“Don’t gloat,” Devin said, limping up behind Malcolm. “You just got lucky. Next time—”
“Next time, we will beat your geriatric butts again!”
Both men laughed, and Renata joined in. Without thinking, she walked over and hugged Devin. Without hesitation, he embraced her. He was hot, sweaty, and smelled so intoxicatingly manly she had to pull away before she did something embarrassing, like stick her tongue down his throat in front of Malcolm and the entire Red Oaks congregation.
“I know I need a shower,” he said.
“And some strong safety lessons,” Malcolm said.
“Okay, mister not-so-gracious winner,” Renata said. “Ease up a bit, huh?”
Malcolm leaned against a tree, his T-shirt ripped on one side and soaked though with sweat on the other. “Do you think he would be easy on me if his team had won?”
Renata thought about that, gave Devin a quick peck on the cheek, and said, “You’re right, Malcolm. One more shot, and then let’s go get something to eat.”
Devin glanced at her and smirked. “Next time, I’d like to see you get out there and play some ball, Ms. Renata.”
Sadness closed coldly over her heart. “Next time,” she murmured. While Devin and Malcolm chuckled, she thought about those two words. She knew that Red Oaks planned a picnic like this every year, but with the end of Malcolm’s sponsorship only weeks away, she didn’t know if there would be a next time…for her.
“Stop bein’ antisocial, and come on over here with the rest of us!”
There was no mistaking Mother Maybelle’s voice. She stood halfway between the open area where the men had played football and the wooded area where Devin and Malcolm stood trading pot shots.
Just the perfect diversion, Renata thought. Eating would take her mind off of the uncertain future she’d been wondering about the past few days.
“Malcolm, you go on ahead. Let Mother Maybelle know we’ll be there directly,” Devin said.
“Okay,” he said, trotting off. “Twenty-eight to seven!” he shouted. “Remember that!”
Shrieks and squeals of glee ignited the air. The children scampered back from their time at the playground. Their happy sounds almost got through to Renata, but uncertainty siphoned off some of the happiness she’d felt only a few moments ago.
Devin breathed heavily, as if he was still tired from the game. “Let me talk to you for a minute,” he said, and led her to a wrought iron bench. They sat down, and Renata bolstered herself for the “Look, I love you, but I can’t get seriously involved with a woman unless she’s in church” speech.
Paranoia had Renata in its cold grasp. Whenever she’d spent time with Devin lately, she’d expected him to break the news to her. Even though her rational mind believed that it was highly unlikely that Devin would shatter her heart during the church picnic, she couldn’t stop her mind from going to that terrible place where all her fears lived. The agency contract with the outreach ministry was almost up. What glue would hold her and Devin together after that?
“Yes?” she said, forcing herself to look into his eyes.
“I wasn’t going to do this now,” he said.
Renata chewed the inside of her bottom lip. He was going to end their relationship here. She took a deep breath, raised her chin, squared her shoulders—prepared herself for the emotional blow.
“Look at you,” he said, lifting a lock of her hair with his fingertip and smoothing it back into place. “From the moment I first saw you, I never had a chance.”
“A chance for what?” Renata asked, searching for meaning.
“A chance to…look, Renata…,” he said, taking her hands. She tried to attribute the rise in her body temperature to the tiny sunrays peeking suddenly through the clouds, but it was more than that. It was the connection she felt with Devin McKenna spreading though her soul like a wildfire.
God, please, she prayed. Don’t let me lose him.
Devin turned toward her. The intensity of his gaze made her shudder with nervousness. Her hands trembled in his.
“I know you don’t feel comfortable being in a church just yet, but I’d like to ask you to go to church with me at least one more time.”
Devin stared adoringly into Renata’s eyes, and that’s when she knew that the kind of church service he was talking about involved flower girls and ring bearers.
Suddenly, the sun was inside her, not just on her skin. “Devin—”
“I know this is fast. Heck, I don’t even have a ring. You can think about it if you want. You can ask for a two-year engagement. You can even tell me I’m crazy. But please, whatever you do, don’t say no.”
“Brother McKenna, what’s wrong with your knees?” Mother Maybelle asked. Renata glanced over and saw that Mother Maybelle and Malcolm hadn’t joined everyone else. Instead, they’d come and stood next to the tree just near the bench.
“Nothing, Mother Maybelle. Nothing’s wrong with my knees,” Devin said without taking his eyes off of Renata.
Mother Maybelle put a hand to her hip. “Then you best get on one of them.”
Devin smiled. It was a smile Renata wanted in her life, from the man she wanted in her life…forever. He got down on one knee.
Renata’s hands stopped trembling. She took a deep breath and let loose a smile of her own.
“Well?” Malcolm said. His eyes were bright and his smile was bigger than hers and Devin’s put together.
“Say somethin’, sugar. Mother Maybelle is hungry,” the eldest among them said.
“Yes,” Renata said. “My answer is yes!”
In an instant, Devin was off of his knees and kissing her so passionately she let go of her earlier reservations and went where the sensation took her.
“It’s about time,” Mother Maybelle said.
“I’m sayin’,” Malcolm echoed.
“Come with me, young man. If we wait for them, we may never eat, and I dipped my toes in my pound cake if I do say so myself.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Malcolm said.
Devin and Renata ended their kiss and pulled away from each other slowly, reluctantly. Devin motioned to where the Red Oaks Christian Fellowship Church members were settling into their dinner.
“You wanna go grab something to eat?”
Renata snuggled close and couldn’t prevent herself from sounding like a love-struck teen. “I want to go anywhere you want to go.”
Devin’s eyebrow rose in a challenge.
Before he could open his mouth, Renata said, “Except to prayer meeting tonight. I think I’ve had enough fellowship for one day.”
They both laughed and headed hand in hand toward the picnic area.
Renata could not believe how content she felt. After the death of her brother, it was as if a feeling like this no longer existed for her. But with Devin in her life, and Malcolm too, she had to admit, she’d been changed.
She’d stopped believing in love and happiness for awhile, but now, as sunlight broke though the clouds like a mighty beacon and shined on her, she knew anything was possible.
A Love Like That
Natalie Dunbar
Dedication
This novella is dedicated to my husband, with all my love.
Natalie Dunbar
Acknowledgments
I want to acknowledge and thank my wonderful family for all of their patience, support, and love while I spent time writing this novella. Love you all!
Natalie
One
Children laughed and played in the sun-painted background, while adults lounged on the green carpet of grass and the scattered white lawn chairs. Busy helping with the Red Oaks Christian Fellowship Men’s Day picnic, Dominique Winston washed off the wooden picnic tables with an old dishrag.
Lately, she’d begun to think of moving to Atlanta, where the pace was faster, there was more to do, and there was none of the intense scrutiny that characterized a small town. Would she miss the close community and genuine caring the residents of the town e
njoyed? She didn’t know, but in Red Oaks, memories of the past and the need for peace in her life still held her back.
Dragging a clean towel from one of her bags, she carefully dried each table. She wet her lips and swallowed. She was thirsty. Glancing around, she saw that so far no one had thought to unload the rest of the bottled water and beverages from Reverend Avery’s truck. The garbage cans were half full of empty cans and bottles.
Tablecloths first, then make the lemonade, she reminded herself. She found the red plastic tablecloths in a large pack near the bench of one of the picnic tables. Drawing one cotton-backed cover out, she placed it on top of a picnic table and pulled it smooth.
She was smoothing a tablecloth onto another picnic table, when an infectious, good-hearted belly laugh caught her attention.
Looking up at the unfamiliar sound, she saw a tall, handsome man in an expensive white shorts outfit laughing and talking with Deacon Jones. Long lashes curled over his sexy brown eyes, trumpeting nose, and wide mouth. Shiny black hair waved back from a face carved out of brown velvet. It stole Dominique’s breath. That was one fine-looking man.
You’ve been bored for years. Here is a man to shake up your life and this town too! Dominique shook off the thought as she forced her gaze back to the tablecloth. There wasn’t a wrinkle on it. She glanced around quickly to see if anyone had noticed her staring. Everyone’s attention was otherwise engaged, except for Mother Maybelle, who winked at her.
No. Not again. Turning away, Dominique bent over to pull catsup, mustard, and pickle relish from the cardboard box at her feet and set them on the table. The brother looked like a player anyway, and she’d had more than her share of that kind of man five years ago, when she married Phil Crater, wealthy Red Oaks ladies’ man. The marriage had lasted less than a year.
She’d been crazy about Phil and thrilled when he proposed, picking her from the crowded field of women eager to please him any way they could. There’d been hints that he might have been keeping to some of his old habits, but Dominique had remained blissfully ignorant until she came home unexpectedly early one day and caught him in bed with Lainey Mikelson, a hussy who’d been an ex-girlfriend and after him from the very beginning.
Slamming the jar of pickles onto the table, Dominique caught herself. The past was the past and she’d learned her lesson real well. She wasn’t about to repeat those mistakes.
Stacking the empty box with the others, she looked around for something else to do. Though several men had shown up to work the picnic, they weren’t working very efficiently, and most of the women were lounging in lawn chairs.
Dominique prided herself on efficiency. She found a box of lemons and powdered lemonade mix, washed her hands, and went to work. Soon, she was immersed in the task and forgot all about Mister Tall, Dark, and Handsome.
Ten-year-old Carmen, one of Reverend Avery’s kids, appeared at her elbow. “Ms. Winston, Mother Maybelle says she’s dying for something to drink. Is the lemonade ready?”
Dominique paused to smile at her. “No, it isn’t, sugar. It’ll be a few more minutes. Go check your daddy’s van for some of that bottled water.”
While the child trekked off to the van with her braids flopping, Dominique cut more lemons and pressed them into the juicer. She could hear Deacon Jones and his friend laughing and talking with Mother Maybelle. With a swift, casual glance, she saw Mother Maybelle getting a big hug and kiss from Mister Tall, Dark, and Handsome. They obviously knew each other.
Finishing with the lemons, she poured the juice into the big cooler of water the Men’s Day committee had brought and added sugar and some of the powdered mix. Stirring the concoction until everything blended, she cut the lemon hulls into pieces and put them on top.
“Dominique.”
She glanced up at the sound of Mother Maybelle’s voice, nodded, and looked around for Carmen. The child was nowhere around. “I’ll be right there.” Dominique got a glass, added ice from a bucket, and filled it with lemonade.
“I can get that for you, Mrs. Carmichael,” the stranger offered, his eyes brightening at the sight of Dominique.
“I’ve got it,” Dominique said confidently, lifting the glass and heading for Mother Maybelle. Just the feel of the man’s gaze on her had her insides buzzing like a nest of bees. She worked hard to appear unaffected.
“Thank you, honey.” The older woman accepted the glass with a thin, delicate hand graced with an enormous emerald-cut diamond that flashed outrageously. “Now, honey, I want you to meet Blair Thomas. I’ve known his momma, daddy, and granddaddy for years and he’s like a son to me. Blair, this is Dominique Winston, one of the brightest angels in our church. If something’s going on, Dominique’s right there in the middle of it.”
Blair and Dominique stared at each other for a moment, and then responded to each other with friendly smiles. Dominique felt the warmth of Blair’s smile clear down to her bones. She shifted her feet, attempting to hide her shaking knees.
Blair held her hand several moments longer than necessary. His big hands were warm. “I’m real pleased to meet you, Ms. Winston.”
“It’s good to meet you, too.” She thought she would fall into those cocoa-brown eyes as her heart beat in her chest like a bass drum. The last time she’d been affected like this was when Phil Crater focused all his charm on her.
That thought freed her from the daze. Tugging her hand, she managed to free it. She smiled brightly to lessen the effect of what she’d done. “Well, I’m going to get back to work. Enjoy our picnic, Mr. Thomas.”
“Please, call me Blair,” he corrected in a mellow voice that caressed her ears.
“Blair,” she repeated, letting her mouth shape the name. Then she remembered her manners and acknowledged Deacon Jones. He simply smiled and nodded.
Dominique felt hot as she walked back to the picnic table, the weight of Blair’s gaze still on her. Hadn’t she been wishing for a more exciting life? Somehow this was more than she’d hoped for. She forced air through her lungs. All these thrills and turmoil over a man were unnecessary.
Blair tried to keep his wandering gaze off Ms. Dominique Winston, but it strayed back time and again to the tall, slim beauty in the tailored blue shorts and top. He usually liked his women more voluptuous, but something about her had his hormones leaping. Was it the strength and grace in the way she carried herself and the ring of confidence in her smoky Southern drawl? Or the way her shoulder-length auburn hair framed the masterpiece of her face and her sherry-brown eyes seemed to size him up? She was someone he definitely wanted to talk to, and he sensed interest on her part, but he also sensed a problem. “What’s up with Dominique?” he asked Scooter.
Known to the group as Deacon Jones, Scooter pulled him aside. “Man, she’s single now, but she used to be married to the town player. She went through a lot with him. I’m not going into the dirty details. Let’s just say that she’s been super cautious every since. And who could blame her?”
“Hmmm.” Blair stroked his chin with a thumb and forefinger. “Maybe you could help a brother out. Fill her in on me and tell her that I’m one of the good guys.”
Scooter chuckled. “Brother, I know you’re a man of your word, but you love the ladies, too. I’ve never heard you talk about settling down.”
“Is that what Dominique is looking for?” Blair asked, watching her set the plastic cups on the picnic table.
“I can’t speak for her,” Scooter told him, “but I did detect a little energy when you two met and shook hands. If you’re honest with her, she can make her own decision about whether she wants to see you or not. I’ll see what I can do for you.”
They shook hands on it.
Blair watched Scooter work the crowd as he helped with the picnic but grew impatient waiting for his friend to talk to Dominique. He saw that she’d left the lemonade table and was busy cutting the barbecued ribs into manageable pieces. Too anxious to wait, he decided to go and talk to her.
He usually knew what to say
to women to get their attention, but his mouth was dry as he approached Dominique.
“Can I help you? Get you something?” she offered, an intense look in her eyes.
A spark of sensual awareness sizzled between them. Blair flashed her a warm, flattering smile. “Actually, I was hoping I could help you. I’d like to talk to you, get to know you.”
She stiffened, the warmth in her smile cooling. “I don’t really need any help.”
He stood there awkwardly, her statement hanging in the air. Had he misinterpreted the vibes? She obviously didn’t want to be bothered. He started thinking of graceful ways to walk away.
Blinking, she wet her soft, kissable lips. “Excuse me,” she said, some of the warmth seeping back in her voice. “I didn’t mean to sound so rude. What did you want to talk about?”
“I’d like to know more about you, but we can talk about me and what I do.”
“Let’s talk about you,” she drawled softly. “How do you know Deacon Jones and Mother Maybelle?”
Blair relaxed as he began to describe how he knew his friends. “Deacon Jones was my roommate at Grambling State, and Mrs. Carmichael used to visit the people down the street from my parents all the time. I used to live in Rally, Georgia.”
“Small world, huh?” She continued to cut the meat and place it in a large pan. Her glance met his for just a moment and sent a charge rushing through him. “What about you, Blair? What brings you to Red Oaks?”
“I’m taking a little break from work. I design and race cars. Sometimes I even win. I’ve been so deep into my work that I haven’t had a vacation for some time. Scooter came to my last race and invited me down to spend some time with y’all.”
Dominique’s eyes widened. “Scooter?”
Blair grinned. “Deacon Jones.”
She laughed, a light, musical sound that he could listen to all day. “I’m going to have to remember that one.”