“Here. I don’t want to leave.”
“Why not? You got people here?”
“Lots of people. No family, though.”
“No boyfriend?”
I stiffened up. Boyfriends were forbidden territory. I’d avoided having one since the last, and only, disastrous one. I never told anyone about how I’d almost lost myself to a two-timing Casanova. Not even Clarice.
There was a reason I hadn’t dated since my seventeenth birthday.
“No,” I said tightly. “I’m single.”
“That’s a shame,” he said, but he was smiling like he was glad to hear that I was single.
Oh, God, I groaned inwardly. This is definitely a date.
But part of me wasn’t that upset about it. Part of me was . . . curious to see what he had in mind. He was an older man. Much, much older. Preacher was unlike anyone I’d ever known.
My cheeks warmed up as we were served our food. I hadn’t been on a date . . . well, ever, really. Usually, I avoided men who expressed interest in me. Ever since Zach. He was the local hot shot, a star athlete and on his way to the NBA now, from what I heard. None of that mattered. What mattered was that I had loved him, really loved him, and he’d been messing around with my best friend.
Ex-best friend.
Both of them had begged for forgiveness. I still got a text once in a while from her. He was fond of getting drunk and trying to get me back with grand gestures and late-night phone calls.
Yes, all these years later.
They had both left the neighborhood far behind and me with it.
But I couldn’t avoid Preacher. I couldn’t hide the fact that he drew me in as much as he made me want to smack him. I would just hold him at arm’s length, I decided. There was no way I was going to get into a thing with some guy who planned on being out of here in a couple of weeks, anyway. Especially one who looked like he could tear a wild animal apart with his bare hands.
I had a feeling that when Preacher went into the forest, the animals were afraid of him.
I shivered, but it wasn’t because I was cold.
He smiled at me and took a massive bite of his steak. A carnivore through and through. I felt another shiver go through me at the way he looked at me.
This time, it definitely wasn’t because I was cold.
I took a bite of my quiche and stabbed a few pieces of arugula before dabbing into the sauce to make it interesting. I had a thing about getting a perfectly balanced taste of everything on the fork for each bite.
“You try and get it all,” Preacher observed.
“And you just go for what you want,” I threw back.
He smiled slowly, his gaze traveling over my face to rest on my lips.
“Not always.”
I gasped at the implication. He wasn’t even hiding it now. Preacher wanted me.
And God help me, I was excited by it.
You are a dumbass, Cynthia. Bad boys don’t play nice. And Preacher is the definition of a bad boy.
A bad man, I corrected myself. Although truthfully, from what I knew of Preacher so far, he wasn’t bad. He wasn’t exactly good, either. He was . . . interesting. He paid attention to the people around him. He seemed to care about them, too. And he was doing his best to play by the rules I had set him. I watched him finish his wine and shake off the offer of another glass. I knew if I weren’t here, he would be cozied up to the whole bottle, or maybe even just drinking straight liquor. He was doing that for me, I was sure. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.
Bad. Very bad. Do not even think about it, Cynthia.
But I was. I was thinking about it. A delicious warmth was spreading through my body.
It was hard to believe, but I was crushing on Preacher.
Chapter Eleven
Preacher
“No dessert?”
Cynthia shook her head softly, patting her lips with her napkin. She was such a proper little lady. It made me want to defile her even more. Gently, of course. At least at first.
I wanted to do filthy, dirty things to her. Things that would make her whole body blush.
I smiled and took the check before it even hit the table. I slid a hundred and the bill into the waiter’s hand.
“You ready?”
Cynthia nodded, her eyes wide. Maybe she thought all dirtbag backroad ministers were poor. I was not. And I would be damned if I wouldn’t spoil a pretty lady if she let me. This pretty lady. Only her.
I’d never wanted to wine and dine a woman before. Beer and tacos, sure, but only because I was hungry at the time. But this was different. I wanted to watch Cynthia eat every damn day. Three times. Maybe more.
Hell, I wanted to make pancakes for the woman and serve them to her in bed.
It was nuts, but I hadn’t thought of or even looked at a woman in passing since I met her. I was always a hound, especially since giving up any semblance of trying to be good. I loved women and they usually loved me. All kinds. And if the lady was good looking, I usually ended up in bed with her.
But Cynthia was something else. I was starting to understand Lucky’s obsession with his wife and how he called her ‘Angel’.
Except Cynthia was a little too spicy to be an angel. She was something else altogether. A stone-cold fox. Or a goddess.
I held the door for her and walked her the last few blocks home.
“The food is great.”
She nodded proudly.
“Mike and Doris opened it up last year. It really changed the tone of the area. Especially when the outdoor cafe is open.”
I resisted the urge to take her hand and squeeze it. Down, boy. She still thinks you are a Godless criminal, remember? If you want something to happen, you’re going to have to work for it. Hard.
I was a criminal. But not Godless. No matter how mad I got at the Big Guy, I still held him in my heart.
“We need more places like that. To keep people out and happy. It will make the crime drop.”
She gave me a look.
“We?”
I shrugged, not saying anything. What could I say? I wasn’t missing being drunk all day as much as I had thought I would. I wasn’t missing being shiftless and carefree. As much as I dreaded standing up to give a sermon on Sunday, as much as I had kicked and screamed the whole way up here, I was starting to really care about the people here.
One in particular.
There was no way I could say any of that. Not yet. Probably not ever.
We stopped at her stoop again. I held my hand out. She stared at it.
“I can’t get a goodnight handshake?”
She laughed and gave me her hand. I felt an actual shock at the contact. I tugged her a little closer until we were face to face.
“Goodnight, darlin’,” I murmured huskily.
“I told you not to call me that,” she said, her voice nearly breathless. But she didn’t pull away.
“All right,” I said, smiling slowly. “Goodnight, hellcat.”
She cracked a smile at that.
“Goodnight, Preacher.”
I let go of her hand and waited until she was inside. She looked a little flustered, truth be told. Nothing could have pleased me more than watching Miss Cynthia fumbling with her keys.
I was smiling the whole way home.
Chapter Twelve
Cynthia
The church was filling up fast. I glanced around, seeing no sign of Preacher. I knew he was nervous about giving his first sermon. He’d been quiet for days. He hadn’t even gotten cheeky on our nightly walks home the past few nights.
And now he was . . . not here. I stepped outside, deciding I’d better check on him. I saw the door to the parsonage was open to the courtyard. I stepped closer and saw him at the kitchen table, his head in his hands.
“Preacher? It’s time. Are you ready?”
He raised his head and stared at me. I was struck by the powerful emotions in his eyes. He stood up and crossed the room. I gasped as h
is strong arms pulled me inside and flat against his warm, broad chest. His mouth smashed down on mine, making my knees go weak.
His lips were firm and soft. His hands were possessive as he gripped me firmly. His body gave off a tremendous heat. His mouth slanted over mine, coaxing my lips to open. Without thinking, I parted my lips and the kiss went wild. The room tilted as his hands slid over my back, touching me gently, pressing me closer to him. I felt his cock rising up against me and whimpered at the primal feeling it invoked, somehow making me feel strong and soft at the same time.
He was big. Really big.
Preacher was hung like a horse.
He lifted me off my feet and pressed me into the wall so that our bodies lined up. His hardness continued to grow, seeking and finding the sensitive place between my legs. I gripped his shoulders, unable to do more than hold on for dear life.
And then it was over. He lifted his head, staring down at me. His gaze was possessive. Hot and satisfied. His lips twisted into a smirk that made me want to smack him.
“I am now,” he said, setting me gently back on my feet. It took a full minute before I realized he was answering my question from before.
He adjusted himself, still staring at my mouth. With a wry twist of his lips, he stepped back and reached for the door.
“You aren’t wearing robes?”
“That’s not me, hellcat.”
I squinted my eyes at him, still not ready to admit that I had just sucked face with Preacher. Sucked face and liked it.
I’d liked it a lot.
My whole body was awake and alive. I was tingling, for goodness’ sake. I had never, ever felt anything like it before. It was like fireworks and Christmas and a cool breeze on a hot day, all at once.
My goosebumps had goosebumps. I felt amazing and very, very concerned at the same time. I stepped outside, crossing my arms to cover my suddenly hard nipples.
He locked the door, and we walked silently across the courtyard and around the side of the church. He waited for me to go in first and take my seat. I did so in a daze, ignoring the questioning look on Clarice’s face. Preacher stalked through the suddenly silent church, his heavy motorcycle boots echoing in the rafters.
He stepped behind the pulpit and stared out at the congregation.
“I see you. I see your faces today, and I see you in the neighborhood trying to live your lives. Trying to be good. I want you to know that God sees you. He believes in you. He believes in your goodness. And so do I.”
My mouth opened. This was not what I had been expecting at all. There was no bible lesson here. Although, to be fair, he was just getting started.
“So, let’s talk about what it means to be good—not perfect, just good. Good to each other and good to ourselves. Let’s talk about how to heal this community and heal our hearts. We’ve all had heartbreak. Sometimes, we might even blame God for allowing terrible things to happen. I don’t believe God is up there spinning a web where everything that happens has a purpose. We are the purpose.”
He stepped out from behind the pulpit and walked down the steps.
“The courage is in facing those things and still believing that doing good matters. Still taking risks. Still loving each other and ourselves and the Lord. He is not perfect. He was never perfect. If we are made in his image, how could he be?”
I could have sworn he looked at me when he talked about love. I was struggling to get a deep breath. Preacher was not who I thought he was. Not even close.
The man was deep.
“Now, if you want to believe in some perfect old man in white in heaven, you are still welcome here. If you think God is a woman, you are smarter than most, and you are welcome here. If you think God wears a tutu and eats Captain Crunch, you are welcome here. If you have done bad things but want to atone, you are especially welcome here.”
He walked through the church, making eye contact with everyone. Shaking hands. Touching shoulders. I gave him a tremulous smile when he came to our row.
“We need a plan in this community. We need more businesses like Mike and Doris’s bistro.” He nodded to them as he passed. “I could quote scripture until the cows come home, but I don’t want to do that. I want to talk about practical things. I want to hear your ideas. I want a revolution.”
He came back to the pulpit.
“I need volunteers to come up with a plan. We need a neighborhood watch program. We need a pipeline to spread information. We need to keep each other safe.” He smirked. “Well, don’t worry about me, but I want the rest of you safe. I want to put together a committee to raise money to fund small businesses. Maybe we can only launch one a year. I don’t know what we can do. But we won’t know until we start.”
He looked out at the rapt crowd. He had them in the palm of his hand. He had me in the palm of his hand.
“You can call me Preacher, by the way,” he added with a wry smile.
The tension broke as the entire congregation laughed. He had charmed them. He had shown them he believed in them. He had ideas and he wanted to hear our ideas. I was floored.
“I’ve talked long enough. Anyone have any questions?”
Arms shot up. I watched in awe as Preacher worked the crowd, taking time to consider everyone’s ideas. He moved them seamlessly into the courtyard for coffee and cake. I watched him puff on his cigar as he continued talking to everybody. Then I hustled downstairs to get the kids into Sunday school.
I was in a daze as we went through our lessons. The kids were very curious about Preacher. I told them I didn’t know the answers to most of their questions and realized it was true. I didn’t know anything about Preacher.
I knew he was caring and chivalrous.
I knew he was dangerously sexy.
I knew he made my pulse race.
I knew he was scrupulously honest about his unconventional faith and his extremely unconventional values.
•I knew he was, or at least had been, a criminal.
•I knew he had kissed me in a way that was so possessive and consuming it felt like I had been branded.
None of that changed the fact that he was beyond disreputable and far too old for me. But when I was with him, it didn’t seem to matter.
I pressed my fingertips to my lips and handed out coloring pages about plants. I couldn’t focus on the lesson, anyway. Besides, we were trying to get everyone excited about planting the community garden in the empty lot across the street. Even the kids.
Hopefully, when they took home their artwork, they would get their parents excited enough to show up and help. It was a big job and we needed all the help we could get.
When I came upstairs, Preacher was still surrounded by people sitting in folding chairs in a cluster around him. His eyes caught and held mine. And just like that, I could feel him kissing me all over again. My cheeks were very pink as the memory of his cock pressed into me flooded back in. I exhaled shakily and forced myself to turn away before we made a spectacle of ourselves.
Well, I was the only one in danger of attracting attention. Preacher looked cool as a cucumber. Only his eyes were hot.
There was still work to do, things to clean up. But I was feeling cowardly.
I decided to text Clarice and ask her to close up the annex for the day.
I grabbed my stuff, resolving to do my homework at home. I couldn’t face him after that kiss. I needed to sort through my feelings. I hadn’t been looking for a romantic entanglement. I didn’t know what to do.
The whole walk home, I felt like I’d done something dishonest. Like I’d snuck out on him. I felt guilty for disappointing a man who’d driven me crazy only a few days ago.
Now he was still driving me crazy, but in a completely different way.
Chapter Thirteen
Preacher
The sun was shining as a crew of hard-working neighborhood folk pulled weeds and pulled broken glass and rubble from the hard-packed soil. The abandoned lot had officially been given to the church for a neighbo
rhood garden. This was something that Paul and Cynthia had set in motion months ago. Today, it was finally coming to fruition.
“Save the bricks,” I reminded them as I pushed a wheelbarrow of garbage toward the front of the lot. I planned to build a grill with the bricks. Or a low wall for people to sit on. Raised planters. The possibilities were endless.
We had rented a dumpster, one of the few outlays the church had made. The volunteers had brought their own tools, and even some pots and pans and cuttings taken from their own yards and nurtured in anticipation of this day.
I saw a shapely form over by the snack table and made an abrupt turn, abandoning my wheelbarrow for the moment. I stared hungrily at her. From any angle, she was a feast for the eyes. Cynthia looked sinfully sweet in her cut off shorts, workbooks, and a slouchy tee that did nothing to hide her curves. I stared at her throat as she tipped back her head to chug a glass of fresh lemonade Clarice had brought earlier, winking at me and whispering, “Tastes even better with vodka in it.”
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
Her eyes widened as she wiped the excess lemonade from her mouth with the back of her hand. For a split second, she looked like a little girl who’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. She shook her head.
“Just busy with school.”
“That’s why you come in at dawn and leave before the birds start singing?”
She had barely been in her office all week. Not while I was there, anyway. I’d checked. Cynthia was just showing up to run the evening events. She’d even been skipping her yoga classes. I’d been going out of my mind for a glimpse of her. My only respite was our nightly walks, though she was blatantly ignoring me during those too.
“I can work from home,” she said with a shrug.
“I’m not going to apologize for kissing you.” I gave her a heated look. “Especially when you enjoyed it so much.”
“I did not!” She frowned, looking around to see if anyone could hear us. “I just haven’t been kissed in a very long time. You surprised me.”
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