Page 52 of The Friend Game

The kids all start screaming, jumping off Luke and hurrying out of range of Scary Miss Sherry. Luke gets to his feet, holding his arms up and she immediately stops spraying.

“Pastor Abbott,” she exclaims in surprise. “I didn’t see you there.”

“No problem, Miss Sherry,” Luke tells her. He’s dripping wet and covered in paint, but still manages to look completely at ease as he talks to her. “Sorry to have disturbed your afternoon.”

She adjusts her grip on her hose. “You need me to spray those hooligans again?”

“I do not. But thank you for your willingness,” he adds diplomatically. Her gaze swings my way. I’m sure I look like a deer caught in headlights. The kids have all gathered behind me like I can protect them, effectively turning me into their partner in crime.

“Hi.” I wave at her. “Miss Sherry was it?” I paste on my friendliest smile. “I’m Hannah Garza, the art teacher at Grace Canyon.”

“You left that note on my door,” she accuses.

“Yup.” I make my smile even wider. My cheeks hurt from the stretching. “That was me. Thanks for letting us paint your oranges.”

She just grunts.

Which honestly, is a better response than say spraying us all with that hose of hers again.

“Well, we should go,” I say, clapping my hands together.

“Nah, let me see those paintings,” she says, dropping her hose and stepping forward. The kids all shrink back, but then she adds. “I could get everyone some freshly-squeezed orange juice. Maybe some cookies?”

There’s a beat of surprised silence, then Caroline cheers. “Yay! Cookies!” All of the other kids join in, and just like that the legend of Scary Miss Sherry goes up in flames.

Chapter 20

“SO HOW WAS your dinner with the Lamba family,” I ask Luke the next night as I finish loading my dinner dishes into the dishwasher.

“Funny you should ask,” he says wryly, “because I was going to tell you that it turns out there was an ulterior motive to Mary-Anne Lamba’s dinner invitation. Her niece was also a dinner guest and she was most eager for us to meet.”

I shut my dishwasher with a bang, completely forgetting to roll the rack in first. The dishes clang together loudly as the tray is forced into place.

“Uh, Hannah, you okay over there?” Luke asks in response to the ruckus.

“I’m fine,” I say at a pitch that would make an opera singer jealous. “So it was a set-up? Huh? Little meet-cute at the deacon’s dinner table?”

Gosh, do I sound jealous? Or crazy? Or…possibly even crazy jealous? Not good, Hannah. Not good at all. I settle by butt against my counter and inhale deeply.

Everything is fine. My favorite mantra; best repeated when everything is sonotfine.

“Definitely a set-up,” he confirms, “which was odd, considering that, as you said, Dave Lamba is a deacon. He helped make the decision about putting the dating stipulation in my contract. Then again, when Mary-Anne gave me a hug as I was leaving she whispered to me, ‘Just trying to get you ready for March, Pastor Abbott.’”

I do not like this Mary-Anne woman.

That’s not true. I’m sure she’s perfectly lovely. Niece brokering aside.

“Oh,” I respond brilliantly.

“Of course I told her that unfortunately I already had plans of my own for March,” he goes on.

“Wait, you did?” I squeak, pushing off my counter to do a little celebration dance. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Luke confirms. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

“I don’t know,” I say with a shrug. “I guess because we’ve been keeping our friendship under wraps. Trying not to start rumors and whatnot.”

“True,” he agrees. “But seeing as I’ve made my intentions clear to you, namely that I want to take you out when my contract ends, I had nochoice but to make it clear to the Lambas that I’m not available now or in March.”

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