back in their disgustingly lovey-dovey yet non-food-throwing stage in time for Valentine’s Day. He definitely didn’t want to deal with two heartbroken teenagers.
Jeremy’s eyes widened with panic. A frown dimpled Haley’s forehead. “Homemade? We can’t—”
“Dishrags are in the drawer beside the fridge. Better get to cleaning.” Andy sat in his chair, ducking his head and dismissing them as he pretended to shuffle through the youth calendar on his desk. He pursed his lips. If they didn’t leave now—
Footsteps sounded down the hall, Haley’s angry mutterings at Jeremy drifting in their wake. Andy palmed his hand over his mouth and finally released his laugh. What a couple. If those two made it down the aisle one day, he could only imagine the cake-feeding moment at the wedding reception.
Too bad Lori didn’t get to see their argument. Scratch that—she’d probably have started the food fight. But she’d left early from the youth service, abandoning her usual after-church chaperoning duty to meet Aunt Bella for a job interview.
Andy leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking in protest, and crossed his arms behind his head. Lori should be an easy hire—she’d be great at the position, and Aunt Bella was in a hurry to head north to her family. It seemed like a good match. Hopefully he’d know soon.
A knock sounded on his open office door. Senior Pastor Mike Kinsey held up one hand in a wave. “Andy. I’m glad you’re still here.”
Andy quickly stood. “Come on in, Pastor.” He motioned toward the empty chair across his desk. “Have a seat.”
“Those two…” Mike gestured toward the direction Haley and Jeremy had gone and shook his head with a slight smile. “They must keep you busy.”
“They still arguing out there?”
“Something about cakes versus brownies.” Mike sat.
Andy settled into his chair. “It’s a long, messy story.”
“I can imagine.” The smile slowly faded from Mike’s face, and his expression sobered. “Listen, Andy. There’s something I need to discuss with you.”
“That serious?”
Mike shrugged, but the crease between his brows gave him away.
Andy drew a steadying breath. Maybe one of the youth had gotten into some minor trouble. Or maybe the pastor was discouraged about the youth group’s sudden drop in attendance these past few weeks. One solemn conversation didn’t necessarily mean his job was on the line. He flexed his fingers in his lap.
“I take it you heard about the youth minister who was fired last week?”
Andy nodded. The incident had been on the news for days. A youth pastor at a church across town had been arrested for inappropriate conduct with a minor—one of his own youth-group members. The ordeal had made Andy sick.
“It’s created talk in our church.”
Andy raised one eyebrow. “Talk?”
“There’s no easy way to say this.” Mike tugged at his tie. The fluorescent light above their heads buzzed, nearly deafening in the sudden silence. Andy’s fingers found a pencil on his desktop, and he gripped it hard. Say it, just say it.
“Some of the parents of our youth have made comments about your single status.” Mike released his tie, and his hands fell limply to his lap.
“Comments?”
“They feel it creates a bad image. That you’d be a better minister if you were, well…married.”
“Married?” he couldn’t stop parroting. His own church doubted his integrity? The room darkened around the edges, and he sucked in a tight breath. “That’s…Sir, I—”
“It sounds harsher than they mean it. They just want to protect you.”
Andy’s throat constricted. “And their children.”
Mike’s shoulders drooped. “That, too.”
“They don’t trust me?” His stomach felt like he’d swallowed the mirrored paperweight on his desk.
“You’ve proven yourself to their kids over and over. They’re just paranoid right now. That scandal really stirred everyone up.”
Apparently. Andy pulled one arm across his chest in a stretch and tried to ignore the way the room closed in like a claustrophobic’s worst nightmare. Marriage. Like it was that easy to find the perfect woman with whom he wanted to spend the rest of his life.
His eyes drifted to the framed photo on his desk, taken last summer during youth camp in Baton Rouge. Lori stood front and center next to his gang of miscreants, all wearing big smiles and matching yellow tees. His eyes lingered on Lori’s image, then quickly darted back to Mike.
“With all due respect, sir, doesn’t the congregation realize that if it were so easy, I’d be married by now? It’s not like I particularly enjoy going home every night to hot dogs and reality TV reruns.”
“I can imagine. However…” Mike shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
Andy’s stomach rolled again. Something was up. He braced his elbows against the edge of the desk. “What are you really saying, Pastor?”
Mike twisted his gold wedding band around on his finger. “That the church board would like for you to get serious about finding a wife.” He cleared his throat, then met Andy’s gaze. “The sooner the better.”
Chapter Two
“What have I gotten myself into?” The whispered words drifted toward the pink-painted ceiling, riding the wake of a delicious chocolate aroma. Lori planted her hands on the glass display counter and eyed the cozy boutique. Black iron tables for two snuggled in various corners of the shop, inviting patrons to linger over their coffee and chocolate. Fresh roses offered a splash of pink in the center of each table, and the black-and-white tiled floor appeared freshly scrubbed. Bella had left the Chocolate Gator in pristine condition—Lori hoped she’d be able to return it in the same shape after nearly two months.
Nice as the New Orleans native was, Lori couldn’t help but wonder if Andy’s aunt Bella was slightly off her rocker. In her mid-fifties, she practically oozed grace and charm with a Southern flair—just like her boutique. But trusting a near stranger with her business, on the sole recommendation of her only nephew, seemed a bit crazy. Sure, there was a chef and a college student working part-time at the register a few days a week, and yes, Lori had often chatted with Bella while buying those signature chocolate crocodiles, but was that enough to merit such responsibility?
Lori strode to the front door and flipped the white cardboard sign to read Open. She shouldn’t complain. Less than a week ago she didn’t have a job, and now she was running one of the trendiest boutiques in New Orleans—not to mention total access to those yummy little milk chocolate and caramel crocodiles. She sneaked a glance at the chocolates arranged on doilies in the display case. Even with her discount, she just might end up eating her paycheck. Literally.
The swinging kitchen door splayed open, nearly
