Page 19 of The Scent of Happiness

“Why?” Dixie asked. “Afraid she’s guilty too?”

Brooke pointed to her own chest. “I made the soap. It has nothing to do with her.”

“She sold it.” Dixie’s hair flew over her shoulder as she tossed her head. “I should name Riverside Gifts in my suit. That soap was the worst thing to ever happen to me.”

“The worst?” Theo asked. “Ever? In your whole life? One small rash?”

“I didn’t give her a rash.” Brooke sucked in air. Could Theo shut up already? “Do you have to argue with her right here?”

“I’m not arguing with her,” Theo said, his tone on the edge of patronizing. “But as long as Ms. Dawson keeps talking, I’m going to use everything she says against her.”

Dixie closed her mouth so forcefully that her lips puckered. But then she reconsidered. “You realize that I’m the plaintiff, yes?”

“For now,” Theo raised his eyebrows and waited.

“I don’t know why I even try to reason with you people.” Dixie cast one more pitying glance over Brooke’s table and moved down the line. She praised Abby’s knits and asked after Jada’s grandchildren, rearranged a few things on Betty’s table and then continued on until her voice was lost in the crowd.

Theo stood over Brooke’s table with his arms folded, looking at her display like he wanted to cross-examine it. He picked up a bar of Citrus Ginger and looked at the price tag. “Six-fifty?”

“Yes.”

“For one bar of soap?”

“For one bar of artisan soap made with high-quality ingredients, yes.”

Theo put the bar back. “Huh.”

Brooke plunked down on the folding chair the church committee had provided. She slumped over her table. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d drop in.”

“You just happened to visit a church you don’t attend on a random Saturday afternoon.”

“Something like that.”

Theo was dressed in jeans and a fleece jacket. It didn’t have the same effect as a well-tailored suit, but he was still the most handsome guy in the room.

Brooke was glad that she’d dressed better today, in slim black pants that lengthened her legs, a nice blouse, and her red-framed glasses. Not that it mattered what she was wearing. Just like it didn’t matter what Theo was wearing. Or not wearing.

Stop it, Brooke told herself. There would be no undressing of Theo in her imagination. None of that.

Theo touched his chin. “Yesterday, I didn’t fully grasp the situation.”

Brooke blinked up at him. Theo stared back. The truth came to her in a rush. “My mom called your mom, didn’t she?”

“Yes.”

Brooke closed her eyes. Wonderful. Mom had probably made the call last night before she even put away the leftover pot roast.

Brooke stood and circled the table. She took his arm, steering him toward the back corner, out of earshot of the other crafters, snatching up a bar of Pumpkin Spice on the way.

She kept her voice low. “It was nice of you to step in just now, pretending to be my lawyer, but you don’t have to do this.”

“I wasn’t pretending. I’d like to represent you and help you win this. Unless you’ve engaged another attorney?”

“Not yet.” In order to speak without being overheard, she had to stand practically toe-to-toe with him. She waved the Pumpkin Spice soap under her nose. She was not going to be discombobulated by Theo. Not today.

“I’ll take the case,” Theo said. “It will cost more hours than it would if you’d settle, but I’m willing to do that for you. I’ll charge you a flat fee.”