Morning Cup of Murder by Vanessa Gray Bartal Page B

try and make me feel like a heel.”
    “No, sorry. It’s a pastor’s trick to try and make you feel like a heel.” His smile widened and he held out his hand to her. “I’m the new pastor at your grandmother’s church. I heard about her, uh, predicament, and came to offer my assistance.”
    Lacy put her hand in his while he pumped it a few times. “I don’t even know where to begin. Is it a sin to yell at a preacher?”
    “Depends on what you yell,” he said. “I don’t think you crossed any lines of eternal damnation, though. It sounds like you’ve had a bad day.”
    She shook her head. “Oh, no. Don’t be nice to me now. Please, please, please be an obnoxious jerk so I can feel somewhat vindicated for yelling at you.” She paused and bit her lip. “I don’t suppose you ran over a puppy on your way over here, or did anything else heinous enough to deserve what I just vented on you.”
    He shook his head, his expression somber. “I rescued a kitten from a burning building and bought out a lemonade stand to send an underprivileged child to camp.”
    “Now you’re just being cruel,” she said.
    He grinned at her and she realized he was still holding her hand. “Let me make it up to you; let’s go grab something to eat.”
    She stared up at him, realizing he was very tall and lanky. His hair was brown and slightly shaggy as if he were a couple of weeks overdue for a trim. His eyes were brown and kind. All in all he resembled a puppy--playful and sweet.
    Mistaking her inspection for reticence, he hurried on, “Think of it this way: I’m a pastor, and you need to talk. Plus, I’m new in town and hungry. You’d be doing me a favor.”
    “Okay,” she agreed, wondering if she was crazy for agreeing to have dinner with a total stranger. Still, he had the kind of warm brown eyes that drew people in and made him seem trustworthy. “Where do you want to go? I’ll meet you there.” At least she wouldn’t make the mistake of riding in a car with him.
    “You choose. I’ve only been in town three days.”
    “The diner. Have you seen it? It’s right off the highway on the edge of town.”
    He nodded. “I passed it on my way in, but I’ll follow you in case I get lost.” He stood aside, waiting for her to pass by him.
    She did, and then threw him one more searching look over her shoulder. Why was she doing this? It was unlike her to make up to someone so easily, especially someone who had just been witness to an embarrassing meltdown. Was she really so lonely?
    He smiled at her, and she had her answer. Yes, she was lonely, and tired, and stressed; she just wanted to spend the evening somewhere other than her grandmother’s lonely kitchen doing something other than eating leftovers and feeling sorry for herself.
    The drive to the restaurant was blessedly short, not allowing her the opportunity to change her mind. Although she’d had enough time to become nervous. What would she talk to this man about? How did she look after a day spent chasing down dead ends?
    A quick look in the mirror told her the result of her day wasn’t good. The outside humidity had caused her hair to frizz around her face, and what few traces of makeup she’d applied than morning had already melted off. She parked in the first available spot and ran a brush through her hair a few times, touched up her eye makeup, and blotted her sweaty face with some translucent powder. It wasn’t great, but it was a vast improvement so that by the time she met the guy at the door, she felt somewhat presentable.
    “I just realized I don’t know your name,” she blurted.
    Before he could answer, a hostess greeted them and led them to a conspicuous table in the center of the crowded restaurant. Lacy wanted to crawl under the table when she felt every eye turning to look at them. She knew many of the people who were looking at her, if not by name then by reputation. To make matters worse, many of them attended her grandmother’s church. What