“It’s Rosebud.”
He grinned, slipping a ten and a twenty from his wallet, regarding her for a moment. “I’m sorry, Ginger.” The confession came without much thought, without an agenda. He was free to flow where the moment took them.
She froze, reaching for his money, glancing up at him with gleaming hazel eyes. “You’re sorry?”
The front door pushed open and Ruby-Jane rushed in with the cold breeze, a large pizza box and three sodas in her arms, the aroma of hot tomato sauce and baked dough mingling with the paint fumes.
“I’m home, kids. Lunch in the back room. Tom, dude, awesome cut. Isn’t Ging the best?”
“She’s the maestro.” He smiled at Ginger, willing her to receive his apology.
“I told Anthony you were here in town and he said he’d heard you were starting a church. Is that true?” Ruby-Jane disappeared in the back room, emerging a moment later with a soft-looking cheesy bread stick. “Come on, y’all. It’s nice and hot. Help yourself, Tom.”
“Thank you, but I can’t stay.” Tom motioned to the front door, taking a step back. Besides, if Ginger’s stiff posture was any indication, he was not wanted. “I have a meeting. And yes, I’m back in town and starting a church. First service is a week from Sunday at the old First United Church on Mercy Road, northwest of town. You know the place.” He stepped toward the door. “Ginger, thanks for taking the time to cut my hair. I appreciate it. See you this weekend?”
She nodded. Once. “Guess so.”
As the door eased closed behind him, Tom stepped down the sidewalk and into the icy breeze. What was it about Ginger that awakened a longing in him? The ache to be her friend, to laugh with her, to share his heart, to listen to hers, to touch her scars and tell her everything would be all right?
To tell her she was beautiful.
But how could he ever be in a romantic relationship with her? What would his parents say?
Shake it off. He didn’t come back to Rosebud to win Ginger’s heart. He came to start work, to follow God’s call, and perhaps restore his family’s reputation and legacy. Not to remind people of his father’s failing. That he’d packed up his family and exited in the dark of night amid possible scandal, abandoning his church, his reputation, and for a brief moment, his faith.
Tom had to be more than aboveboard. In all of his dealings. For his new church plant to bloom.
But heaven help him, Ginger Winters was as beautiful as ever, if not as raw and wounded as when he last saw her. And as crazy as it sounded, somewhere deep inside him, beneath all the layers of propriety, beneath any trepidation, Tom longed to be the man in her life.
Just like he did the first time he laid eyes on her.
She felt bad treating him like toilet paper stuck to the bottom of her shoe, but Tom Wells? She’d have been more prepared for the Man in the Moon to walk in asking for a close buzz than him.
After Tom left the shop, Ginger sat up to the back room table, sorting out her feelings, eating pizza while Ruby-Jane talked. “Dang, I might have to recommit myself to Jesus and go to Tom’s church. I mean, mercy a-might girl, he’s gorgeous and a man of God—”
“Ruby-Jane, please, do not be bamboozled. You remember how the whole family snuck out of town, a scandal chasing after them?” Ginger took a small bite of pizza, her appetite a bit frosted by her own attitude toward Tom. “Like father, like son.”
“What was that all about, anyway?” Ruby-Jane said.
“Who knows? Who cares?” Ginger didn’t. At least she liked to think she didn’t. What kind of sane woman still carried pain about a boy standing her up over a decade ago?
“I care. My future husband might be Rosebud’s next big preacher.” Ruby-Jane slapped another slice of pizza on her plate. “Come on, don’t tell me you’re still mad at him for leaving town without telling you.”
“He didn’t just leave. He vanished.”
“Ging, they didn’t vanish. We heard they moved to Atlanta.”
“But not from him directly. I thought we were friends, you know? But not a peep out of him until twenty minutes ago when he walked in here.” Ginger pushed away from the table, sad she’d lost her appetite for Antony’s pizza. “Can we get back to painting?”
“So you are still mad.” Ruby-Jane wiped the corners of her mouth with a wadded-up napkin. “It was twelve years ago.”
“I’m not mad.” But she was and it bothered her to her core. “Come on, let’s get back to work. I want to get at least one wall painted before I leave on Friday.”
“You know he’s Eric’s best man. He’s going to be around allll weekend at this Maynard-James wedding extravaganza.”
“I heard. I was standing here when he said it. So what’s your point?”
“I think you’re into him. Still. And you’re mad at him. Still.”