Georgia Sweethearts. Missy Tippens

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      A plan began to take shape. He couldn’t imagine her wanting to deal with the renovation on her own. “It wouldn’t be too difficult to make the basement functional.”

      “Looks dreary to me,” she said. “Lots of work to make it livable.”

      He squatted down to check for moisture on a crack in the cement floor. “I’ve been on several mission trips. This is a piece of cake compared to what I’ve worked on.”

      “We still plan to hold classes down here at some point. I wouldn’t want the space tied up indefinitely.” She rubbed her hands up and down her arms as if trying to warm herself.

      With the winter cold outside, he’d have to beef up the heating system, as well. “If ‘indefinitely’ is the problem, we can put an end date on the contract. And maybe work out a way to share the space so you can hold classes if you’re ready sooner than expected.”

      Surely, he’d tempted her with his offer.

      She looked around the room, her hazel eyes more brown than green in the dim lighting. Dark, mysterious eyes...beautiful. Beauty wasn’t what drew him to her, though. He’d like to get to know her better and, since they’d gotten off on the wrong foot, to make her change her mind about him.

      She shivered. “This business ownership is all very new. I’m still looking at my aunt’s records, figuring out the financials. I’d like time to look through her paperwork to see if she mentioned the agreement.”

      “Let’s go upstairs. It’s too cold to talk down here.”

      When they got to the heated area, she rubbed her hands together and the tension eased out of her shoulders.

      The warmth made him relax, as well. Though the seating area was small and had those rickety folding chairs, she’d done a nice job making it as homey and comfortable as possible. That, and the rainbow of colors from the wall of yarn, made it a place customers would enjoy spending time. And money.

      Should he bring up his second list, his suggestions for marketing?

      She shivered again. “Ooh. Goodness.”

      “Having trouble getting rid of the damp chill?” He pulled off his jacket and placed it around her shoulders. “There. Maybe that’ll help.”

      Before he knew it, he was lost in her eyes. He could hardly breathe as she stared back at him.

      Confusion clouded her expression, then she looked away...and retreated behind the sales counter. The solid wood structure served as a firm boundary, Lilly wielding it like a shield.

      She smiled. An impersonal, dismissive thing. For some reason, he wanted to make her smile for real. Like the first day they met, before he started talking business.

      “Well, Daniel, you’ve seen the basement now. Are you sure you still want to lease it?”

      “It’ll fit our needs nicely.”

      “You’ve made a generous offer. I’ll need to discuss it with Jenna. And I don’t want to make any decisions until I meet with Aunt Talitha’s accountant tomorrow. Is there anything else you need today?”

      “Would you go to dinner with me?” Heat blasted from his neck up to his face. Had he really said that out loud?

      The shocked look on her face confirmed it.

      “To discuss some ideas I’ve had,” he added quickly. “About marketing your shop. It’s what I do...did.” He snapped his mouth shut before he embarrassed himself further.

      “I’m sorry, but I can’t.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder. Gloriously wavy, brown hair that trailed halfway down her back. “Thank you, though. It’s that...well...life’s a little hectic right now...”

      He’d flustered her. Probably messed up everything. He had to do damage control, and quick. “How about coming to our service on Sunday? Meet some folks. I think you’ll find we’d be good tenants.”

      If he’d thought she was tense earlier, at the mention of the church service she turned into marble. Whether she physically moved or not, he wasn’t sure, but she’d definitely distanced herself. Had put up a wall.

      “Um, no thank you. I help my sister with my nephew whenever I’m not working. Sunday is our day to clean the house.”

      Even though he sensed it wouldn’t do any good, he had to try. Maybe if he took away her excuses, she’d tell him the real reason. “We have a nursery worker who watches the younger children. Bring both of them and come.”

      She looked all around the room as if searching for an escape route. “Look, you need to know you shouldn’t waste your time preaching to me. What little childhood faith Jenna and I had got crushed out of us by our parents.”

      Anger burned in his gut. But he tamped it down. “Were your parents abusive?”

      She glanced away. Shook her head. “I pretty much raised Jenna. We were too busy getting by to go to church regularly.”

      “I’m sorry.” This time he really meant the words. He hated to think of her and Jenna suffering. “I hope, now that you’re adults, you’ll give worship a try. We have small group meetings, Bible studies and—”

      A forced laugh burst out of her, as if she was trying to blow off the painful glimpse of her childhood. “Now I feel like one of your projects.”

      The ease with which she dismissed his concern spoke volumes. She was an expert at covering the hurt.

      This wasn’t the time to talk business or marketing. “Just know the invitation stands. We’d love to have you anytime. We meet at ten o’clock Sunday mornings at Frank’s Pizza Place, downtown Corinthia.”

      “At a restaurant?”

      “Yeah. Frank’s a member of the congregation and offered the space. But it’s a tight fit. That, and the noise in the kitchen while they prep for lunch can be distracting.”

      A tentative smile revealed a little dimple forming at the left corner of her mouth. She pulled her lips back over her teeth, almost self-consciously. “I imagine growling stomachs distract, as well.”

      “Especially mine.”

      When she laughed, his heart squeezed in his chest. He suddenly wished...what? That he could keep making her laugh?

      She grabbed a cloth at the end of the counter and swiped it over the wooden surface, her dimple still in place. “I can’t keep up with the dust.”

      He had no business wanting to make her laugh. He should pray for her, for God to heal her painful past. “I appreciate you showing me around. Hope to see you on Sunday.”

      The moment of friendliness ended as she reestablished the barrier, eyes cooling, smile tempering. “Thank you for the information on the church services.”

      Her insinuation? Thanks, but no thanks. He suspected she blamed God for her rough childhood. If so, would she ever agree to rent the space to a church?

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