Third Time's a Charm (24 page)

Tori’s grip on the menu tightened. If he was trying to make her nervous, it wouldn’t work. Well, not much. “Good for you.”

He leaned forward and dropped his tone suggestively. “Tell you what. I’ll show you mine, if you’ll show me yours.”

Heat flared into Tori’s face. “That’s inappropriate, Mitch.”

“What’s the matter, Sanderson?” He straightened and picked up his glass. “I’m talking about our presentations.”

His eyes held hers over the rim of his glass as he drank deeply of the rich, red liquid. The ever-present smirk was starting to get on Tori’s nerves. He really would be handsome if he could manage to lose it every so often. Then maybe she could tell what he was actually thinking behind that mocking expression.

“I’m sure that’s what you mean, Mitch.” She smiled as sweetly as she could manage. “When I’m your boss, I’m all for a free exchange of ideas. Until then, I don’t care to discuss mine.”’

A slow grin slid across his lips. He drank again, then leaned forward and spoke in a low voice. “When I’m
your
boss, you’ll have to be nicer to me, won’t you?”

“Be careful, Mitch.” She didn’t bother to tone down her irritation. “Someone who didn’t know better might mistake your joking for harassment.”

“What a good thing you know better, huh, Sanderson?”

The waiter arrived, and Tori welcomed the interruption. The conversation was getting just a little too close to some sort of ill-defined boundary for her. The attraction she had for Mitch was rapidly fading and turning into something that wouldn’t be comfortable in the office. Maybe she’d been wrong to come here. Or maybe coming here with a co-worker was fine, but she definitely shouldn’t have worn this dress. She lifted her menu to form a shield and hitched the neckline high.

What was it he had said about speaking the same language? Yeah, right. She and Mitch
sooo
didn’t.

The evening accomplished one important thing—any secret attraction she’d felt for Mitch was completely eradicated. They might work in the same field, and he might be handsome and intelligent and experienced in her profession, but if there was one thing Tori couldn’t stand, it was a mean drunk. The longer the evening went on and the emptier that wine bottle became, the more cutting Mitch’s comments got. He never became sloppy, but he criticized everything—their clients, Kate, the partners, even the coworkers he spent all day flirting with. Every comment was delivered in the style that had become Mitch’s trademark, complimentary and nasty in equal parts, until Tori wanted to scream at him to
just shut up
!

She wrestled the bill away from him, left a sizable tip, and marched toward the exit, relief making her step light. The sooner this evening ended, the better. A long night curled up with her laptop and six months’ worth of traffic pattern data to analyze sounded almost heavenly compared to another ten minutes in Mitch’s tipsy presence.

He followed her across the parking lot, his long stride confident. Not even a wobble that would surely have made the restaurant staff wonder if he was okay to drive. Amazing, since he’d almost finished that whole bottle of wine by himself. It must be true that people built up a tolerance to alcohol. He’d apparently been working on immunity for years.

“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 Gordy. 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.”