One More Kiss by Kim Amos

as borderline criminal,” Randall said, working to keep his voice even. “And certainly not the behavior of someone who sits on the board of this church. I need to ask you to resign immediately.”
    Valerie blinked rapidly. “Resign? For this?” She waved her hand at the crumpled signs as if they were nothing more than a few Post-its.
    “As I said, effective immediately.”
    She gave him a shaky smile. “Randall, this is all a misunderstanding. I care about you. I’m sorry if I didn’t express it correctly. But you have to know how I feel.”
    Randall felt a twinge of compassion for her then. He welcomed it. It was a reminder that no one was without sin and screwups. Especially not him.
    “I can appreciate that,” he said slowly, “and as I said, I’m flattered. But I don’t feel the same way.”
    “Because of her ,” Valerie said, her neck cords straining under her pearls. “Because of Betty.”
    “Yes. I’m in love with her.” It felt incredible to admit it out loud. “I love Betty Lindholm.”
    Valerie’s aquamarine eyes filled with tears. “I feel like I lose everything to her some days. Isn’t that silly? But I do. To a girl they used to call Bucky in high school. Did you know that? She was the beaver because of her teeth. They were awful. And Cole Anderson still picked her over me.”
    Randall’s heart plummeted. He didn’t know that at all. He clenched his fists, wishing he could have known Betty back then and could have told her how beautiful she was.
    “I know I shouldn’t be mad at her,” Valerie said, her voice choked, “but I can’t help it. She gets everything I want. Why is that? Because that’s a sermon I’d love to hear.”
    “Surely she doesn’t get everything you want,” Randall said. “Does she?”
    “No,” Valerie agreed, “it only feels that way sometimes.”
    “Maybe,” Randall said, taking a step forward, “something to consider is how Betty simply is who she is. No pretense, no filter. You know what you’re getting with her.”
    “What, and I’m some kind of enigma or something?”
    “No, but some days it does seem like you’re hiding behind a veneer of some sort. Like, what would happen if you didn’t wear lipstick, for example? Or you wore flip-flops instead of heels? Maybe folks might want to see that side of you. Does that make sense?”
    Valerie drew in a shaky breath. “I suppose it does,” she whispered, wiping a tear that had found its way down her cheek. “I think most days I’m just worried people won’t like me if they know who I really am. Like how I haven’t sold a house in a month, and I have a scar on my butt—seriously, right across both cheeks from a biking accident—and I have no idea what the difference is between a cabernet and a merlot. None. ”
    Randall grinned, unable to help himself. “That’s actually pretty endearing. I think that’s the kind of thing people want to hear more of. Not less.”
    Valerie wiped her nose. “Seriously?”
    “Well, I can’t guarantee anything, but just remember, everyone is thinking the exact same thing, okay? On some level we’re all insecure about who we are and what we feel.”
    “Even you?” she asked.
    “Especially me,” he admitted. And then, on a whim, he pulled up his sleeves. “I have tattoos,” he said. “I’ve always kept them hidden. But now I think maybe I’ll start showing them to people.”
    Valerie’s gaze was wide. “I had no clue.”
“Yep. That was the general idea.”
    She looked up at him with bleak remorse. “If I promise to be better—if I promise to try anyway—can I still be on the church board? I know I acted like a jerk with those signs, and I’m sorry. Truly. But I love this church. I really do.”
    Randall pressed his fingertips together. Time would tell if Valerie was serious. Which was fine, because he could give the situation as much time as it needed.
    “Let’s do this,” he said carefully. “Why don’t you take a leave of absence from