Still groggy from the late-night jamming—not to mention the kiss of his life—Caleb managed to find his phone on the nightstand and grab it. Checked the screen.
Pastor Arnie from Little Stone Bible Church.
He punched the screen, gave the man a froggy-sounding hello.
“Caleb, we’re in a jam. The big maple tree fell on the church and fellowship hall during the storm last night. We have two buildings full of water.”
Instantly wide awake, Caleb shoved back the sheet, sat up, and swung his feet out of the bed. “How can I help?”
“I heard you’ve opened the parlor wing again. Could we hold services there this morning?”
“Absolutely. What else?”
“Lead worship so Hosea can tarp the roofs? It’s supposed to start raining again at noon.”
Hosea Middleton—the thirtyish roofing contractor and fill-in worship leader since the regular leader moved away last month. “Guess I can, if you can’t find anyone else. I haven’t led a church worship service since high school.”
“I trust you, son.”
Even though Miss Dahlia didn’t. That still stung.
After he’d showered and dressed in gray trousers and a white collared shirt, Caleb headed toward the lobby, where Sarah arranged a dozen or so blue Island House Inn umbrellas in the stand next to the lobby door. A fresh mop and rolling bucket stood unobtrusively in a corner, ready for puddles.
“We have a reprieve before another storm hits,” he said. “Also, church is here this morning, Sarah.”
Her head shot up. “Here?”
“At ten o’clock, in the parlor.”
She recovered in a flash. “I’ll put a notice on the announcement screen and the sidewalk chalkboard sign.”
Good. He quick-stepped to the restaurant to ask the staff to bring coffee, hot tea, fruit, and pastries to the parlor before the service, then he raced to the makeshift sanctuary to rearrange furniture.
Ariel stood there in the gray light of the cloudy morning, gazing out at the dripping maples and cedars and the porch where he’d kissed her.
Seeing her there brought back the memory of that kiss in full force, and for a moment, he merely stood there, taking in her beauty, her sweetness. Maybe his timing had been off, but holding her, kissing her, had been right.
No matter what Dahlia Denton thought.
At any rate, this room looked way too dreary with no lights, and the weak sun didn’t do much either. He walked over and flipped on the lights.
Ariel turned to him. Her eyes grew wide, lips parted. A little smile, and she cast her gaze downward for a moment then raised it to meet his.
He held in a groan. What had he been thinking? He’d never been the kind of man to date recreationally or kiss casually. This morning, Ariel must think him a different kind of man than he was.
But the kiss hadn’t been casual to him. Expressive, breathtaking, heart-stopping, yes.
Casual—no.
“Caleb.” Her sweet, melodious voice sent warmth through him.
What was it about hearing his name spoken by the woman he’d bared his soul to in a kiss the night before?
“I’ve been praying, thinking about last night,” she said, that little half smile still on her lips, shredding his heart, as she crossed the room and met him at the piano.
“The rehearsal or the kiss?”
The kiss, judging from the pink hue growing in her cheeks.
