But that didn’t make her present dilemma any easier to deal with.
“It’s an impossible situation, Lauren. For at least a few more years, my base is in New York, and extended long-distance relationships are hard to sustain. Nor would it be fair to Isabel for me to pop in and out of her life.” She sighed. “So I’ll go to the wedding, but after that, I need to keep my distance.”
“You have to do what you have to do.” Her sister fluffed up thepillow on the chair and set the remote on the table beside it. “But remember, you’re in Hope Harbor. And in a town with a name like that, anything is possible. Sleep well.”
Quiet fell in the house after Lauren disappeared into her room, and Devyn stood. Stretched. Did a few shoulder rolls and neck turns.
For once her go-to tension remedy didn’t help. Thanks to her upcoming date with a hot lumber guy, whose muscled chest and strong hands and sexy aftershave would invade her personal space during the wedding dance.
However ... it was possible the sparks between them would sputter and die out with extended contact. Attraction based on hormones didn’t have much staying power.
Unfortunately, though, it appeared there was a whole lot to like about Aaron Steele beyond his well-developed pecs and impressive biceps and an enticing hint of five-o’clock shadow her fingertips itched to explore.
But she could be wrong. Maybe after a whole evening in his company, the sizzle would fizzle.
If it didn’t?
She was in big trouble.
Was thatbloodon the back of the priest’s arm?
“Father Murphy.” Diane touched his shoulder as the cast milled about before theOklahomasinging rehearsal on Tuesday night. “Did you cut yourself?”
He twisted the arm she indicated and examined it over his shoulder. Heaved a sigh. “No. That’s paint. I stopped by the high school this afternoon to lend a hand with the sets. I don’t think they trusted me with a hammer and nails, so they handed me a brush. I was supposed to paint a lantern red, but considering the smear on my arm, I’m not certain they should have trusted me with that job, either.”
“I’ll second that.” Reverend Baker joined them. “Brush-wieldingis not your forte, my friend. The electric switch plates you painted when you volunteered to help me spruce up my guest room are still peeling.”
“That wasn’t my fault. You didn’t tell me to sand them before I put on the primer.”
“Everyone knows you have to degloss plastic if you want paint to adhere.” The minister rolled his eyes. “Take my advice. Stick to gardening. You’re better with a spade than a paintbrush—or a golf club, for that matter.”
“Hey. I beat you last Thursday on the links, didn’t I?”
“I was under the weather.”
“Excuses, excuses.” He flipped a hand at the minister. “Did you come over here for a purpose, or just to harass me?”
“I came to say hello to Diane.” He shifted away from his fellow cleric and toward her. “Are you enjoying being part of the show?”
“Very much.” Not to mention the sideshow these two always put on whenever they were together.
“Excellent. I’m happy our paths are crossing more here and at church. We’ve missed you and Martin at Grace Christian. I was delighted to see him a week ago Sunday at the early service.”
Diane stared at him.
Martin had gone to church?
“I had a chance to chat with him this afternoon too, at the high school, when he dropped by to lend a hand with the set building. Caught him as he was preparing to jump into the fray. It was kind of him to donate the lumber.” Father Murphy clasped his hands behind his back and rocked forward, onto his toes.
What in the world...?
“You have paint on your arm.” Reverend Baker leaned closer to examine the long streak that began at the priest’s elbow.
“I know. Diane alerted me.”
“Let me get you a rag from the supply closet. If you dampen it in the men’s room and add a little soap, you should be able to clean up in a jiffy.”
“Thanks. Much appreciated.”
