So had Tom.
Brooks liked his solitude.
So had Tom.
Rita had let herself be fooled by Tom’s charm, his brains, his charisma. She’d taken second place to his work, his fun and games, and then his embezzlement schemes.
Nope, she wasn’t looking for romance, not now. Her current efforts were best concentrated on raising her kids, keeping a semblance of order at home and striving to start a new business. That alone made her way too busy to contemplate silly things like fairy-tale endings with a guy who refused to darken the door of a church. While privacy wasn’t a bad thing, Brooks’ need for solitude sent warning signs flashing Do Not Enter!
“There are a couple of points I’d elaborate on a little more.”
“Such as?”
Brooks angled his chin toward their current project. “Let’s not discuss it now. Tomorrow night maybe? After the meeting? You’ve got Wednesday off, right?”
She did, but was surprised he remembered since her schedule changed weekly. Surprised and more than a little pleased. “Yes.”
“Then let’s talk about it after fellowship,” he suggested, his gray eyes thoughtful. “Have you considered where to apply?”
“I have. I’ll bring the list with me and we can go over it together.”
“Good.” He hesitated, his look saying he’d like to linger, his body language saying something else, although with a reluctance Rita didn’t often see. “I’ll head back to the workroom.”
Ah. He wanted to stay, be part of the action. Or maybe direct the action…
No, Rita decided, he just wanted to join in. Work with them. “Bunnies are next on our agenda. You ever painted a bunny, Brooks?”
Did he pale under that weathered skin?
“You’re kidding, right? Rabbits in my window? With the flowers?”
Rita shared a grin with Tootsie. “And birds,” Tootsie quipped. “You’ve read Bambi, Boss, right? All the little forest creatures hopping about, twitterpated.”
“Twitter-what? Never mind.” Brooks ran a big blunt hand through his hair and finished the action by rubbing the back of his neck, his face bemused. “You know where I am if you need me.”
Rita slanted a grin up to him.
The action stopped him. He contemplated her, his gaze a mix of rough and tender, sweet and strong, his eyes warming at her smile before he pulled himself away. He turned back at the door linking the clean room to the workroom. “Pepperoni and sausage?”
“Yum.”
Tootsie nodded, kind of, but Brooks didn’t catch her hesitation.
Rita did.
When Brooks had disappeared into his work area, Rita laid a hand along Tootsie’s arm. “What’s going on, Toots?”
“Nothing. Why?”
“Are you still feeling sick?”
“I’m fine.”
Her ducked chin told Rita otherwise. “You’re not. Have you seen a doctor? Seriously, honey, this has been going on too long. You’ve been sick off and on for the better part of a month.”
Tootsie swallowed hard, eyes down, then sighed. She averted her gaze, staring at nothing, then dragged her gaze back and met Rita’s eyes. “I saw Dr. Renson last week.”
One of the area’s busiest and most sought-after obstetricians.
Rita drew a breath, worked her jaw and reached out to clasp Tootsie’s hands. “When is the baby due?”
“December.”
“A Christmas baby.” Rita beamed, trying to lighten the moment, soften the situation. “The time for miracles, Toots.”
A tiny smile softened Tootsie’s worried features, but just for a moment. Worry redescended, pushing Rita to grab her in a hug. “It’ll be fine, honey. I promise. Does Matt know?”
Matt was Tootsie’s soldier fiancé, currently deployed to Iraq.
“No.”
“You haven’t told him?”
Tootsie paled. “No.”
“But why?” Rita wondered out loud, confused. “Toots, you’re engaged, it’s not the end of the world. Why haven’t you told him?”
Tootsie drew in a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “Because Matt hasn’t been home since last Thanksgiving.”
It didn’t take a rocket scientist to do the math. Rita sank back in her chair. “Oh, no.”
“Exactly.” Tears pooled in Tootsie’s bright brown eyes, their cinnamon tone matching hair of similar color, such a pretty combination. “I don’t know how to tell him what I’ve done. I’m so ashamed.”
“Does Brooks know?”
Tootsie shook her head. “Absolutely not. Brooks is a good guy and a stellar boss, but he’s a staunch conservative and big on faith and following the rules. He’d never understand how I could do such a thing.”
Rita shifted forward, concerned. “Tootsie, nothing is unforgivable. Do you remember the gospel story about the adulteress? How the Pharisees sentenced her to be stoned?”
Tootsie drew back, remorse twisting her features.
Rita gripped her hands and leaned forward. “Jesus told the crowd that those without sin should cast the first stone. And slowly, one by one, they dropped their stones and walked away because we’re all sinners, honey. Each and every one of us. And God forgives those sins. All we have to do is ask.” She gave Tootsie’s hands an encouraging squeeze, hoping her empathy rang true. “Things happen, Toots. God knows that. And you’ve got friends nearby, people who will stand by you. Help you.”
“No family.”
“We’ll be your family,” Rita insisted. Tootsie had been raised by a live-off-the-land aunt in a smaller-than-small town near Malone, but her aunt had moved to Arizona several years ago, leaving Tootsie dating Matt and working for Brooks. This new turn of events would most likely sever Tootsie’s ties to Matt’s family, leaving her abandoned. “You’ve got us, kiddo. I promise.”
Tootsie’s jaw quivered. She firmed it, straightened and set her shoulders back, determined. “It’ll be fine, I know. Eventually. I just dread telling Matt. And Brooks.”
“If you need me around when you do it, I’ll be glad to ride shotgun.”
“Planning a bank heist?” Liv crossed the room smiling, one brow hiked as she surveyed the bright promise of their painting efforts. A glimpse of Tootsie’s tear-streaked face blotted out her smile. “Toots, what’s up?”
Tootsie waved her away. “It’s nothing, I’m fine.”
Liv rolled her eyes. “Yeah and Gretzky’s just another hockey player.”
“Your mom can tell you later. Right now—” Tootsie repositioned herself, chin down, eyes on the first bunny “—I need to work.”
“All right.” Liv stepped back, worry shading her brow. A tiny head shake from Rita erased the frown. “These are perfect,” she exclaimed, eyeing the finished flowers. “Skeeter is helping me lay the matting. The glass images are done and drying. We actually might be able to get this done tonight.”
“Bunnies won’t be dry,” Rita warned her.
“That’s