Felines and Flowers

By Stephanie J Grace

During high school, Warren was just Wendy’s youth pastor. All grown up and shepherding over her own flock of church kids, Wendy Miller turns to her old friend for help. Not that Warren is that old. In fact, the two have a lot more in common than Wendy would have ever thought.

After the death of his wife, Warren was sure he was finished with relationships. Wendy changes that forgone conclusion with her bright spirit and zest for life. Lining up their desires when they’re at very different points in their lives proves a challenge that might take a little divine intervention, or at least help from friends.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Decadent Publishing
• Release date: Jul 28, 2011
• ISBN: 9781613330098

Stephanie J Grace

Stephanie J Grace is the sweeter and more faith-based side of romance writer Stephanie Beck. With a genuine love for romance and building relationships, Stephanie found the sweeter side of her writing needed its own world to grow and that happens through Stephanie J Grace. With a growing family and growing writing career, Steph stays busy running around in real life and in her imagination, but between the sprints, she enjoys reading, knitting and crafting.

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Felines and Flowers

By

Stephanie J Grace

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2011 by Stephanie J Grace

ISBN: 978-1-61333-009-8

Cover art by Dara England

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC

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~DEDICATION~

For my wonderful friend Pam.

Chapter One

Is that a homeless person sleeping on the bench?

Warren waited for his boss to answer. Patience was the only way to approach the older man, and Warren’s supply of patience had grown in the last decade. Pastor Pete Evans was only a decade older than Warren’s forty-five, but in some ways, Pete was far more advanced. The art of silence, for example, was one of Pete’s greatest tools, and this time Warren didn’t mind the wait. His coffee was hot, his agenda for the day was reasonable, and the night before at the ninth grade retreat, the kids had been great so he’d managed to get a jumpstart on his paperwork. He had nothing but time.

When Pete finally turned, he was smiling—the kindly, grandfatherly look not so much mastered as simply a core piece of his personality. Homeless you say? I’m surprised you didn’t recognize her.

Recognize? Well, now you’ve got me curious. Warren retraced his steps to the narthex bench.

It wasn’t unheard of for people to crash at church when they needed a break from home or simply a quiet place. The sanctuary exuded peace, and though there wasn’t much serious poverty in their little town, the chapel had served as a temporary home in the past.

Warren reassessed the young woman on the short bench. She couldn’t be very tall to fit on the cramped space. Ducky pajama pants, a baby blue sweatshirt, fuzzy slippers, and an intense curly head of chocolate brown hair didn’t give many clues. She didn’t have the signs of someone homeless, but neither did she appear to be anyone he knew. Pete had said the woman should be familiar to him, but nothing about her rang any bells.

Excuse me, miss? Can I help you with anything?

Warren didn’t shake her shoulder, long ago learning from his wife that shaking a woman awake wasn’t the way to start a pleasant conversation. Some things stayed with a man, even after seven years of sleeping alone.

Oh heck, I fell asleep.

The voice was vaguely familiar but he couldn’t place the young woman until she sat up and faced him.

Wendy Miller.

Pastor Warren. Her warm tone made him feel the six-feet tall he sometimes claimed to be. Wendy. She’d been one of his most faithful camp counselors and a great kid, but that was years ago. Like so many of the kids who attended the community congregational events, she’d attended a different church and after graduation, she’d moved on to the next stage in her life. Other responsible, kind children had taken her place, but how he’d forgotten Wendy, Warren didn’t know.

It’s so good to see you, Wendy said, and although the hug she offered was far from inappropriate, for a second it felt too close. When he pulled back, a new tension grew in him.

You, too. So what brings you to St. Tom’s in your pajamas? He fought to stay casual. Something familiar fluttered in his gut, but for the life of him, he couldn’t place the emotion.

She blushed and laughed as she struck a little pose in her nightclothes. Can’t I visit my favorite Lutheran church on a random Thursday morning? Besides, this outfit is the latest in college grad wardrobe, you know. No, not really. We had a slumber party last night with the seventh and eighth graders. Since I was up and St. Tom’s was on my way home, I thought I’d try to catch you. The falling asleep part was completely unintentional.

She’d been a cute teenager, and eight years later, she retained the sweetness. Life away from home had a way of knocking the innocence and bright eyes out of some people, but seeing Wendy’s genuine smile gave him hope that she’d maintained some of her good nature. Not that he had any business noticing that sort of thing. Well, come on into my office and tell me what you’ve been up to the last few years. I always have time to catch up with a former student.

You wouldn’t happen to have any more coffee, would you? she asked, following him on slightly heavy feet. I have another few hours I need to get through and caffeine would be very welcome.

Of course. He motioned her to the coffee machine beside the receptionist’s desk. His assessment of her adult status was confirmed when she fixed her coffee like the old pro college had probably made her. We run on faith, coffee, and sugar around here.

"Aw, delightful. Over at the Methodist church they’re on