by JB Salsbury
“Yes! You’ve been tight-lipped about Pastor Langley all week. Why was he so eager to have you over there early on Monday, and please tell me you got a pic of him in sweatpants. Or pajama pants of any kind. Flannels?”
I hate lying to my best friend, but I can’t give her the info she wants, except… “Yes, he does wear sweatpants. No, I didn’t get a picture because that’s creepy and totally inappropriate.”
“Oh, come on! Not even one photo?”
“No, sicko! He’s a man of God, not a nude entertainer!”
“Nude entertainer?” She bursts out laughing. “You’re funny. You mean stripper? Porn star? Male escort?”
“Yes, all of those things. He’s not them.” I kick my legs over the bed and grab my phone from its charger. I open Instagram for the millionth time tonight and check Wyatt’s page, but there are no new updates.
I don’t know what’s worse: watching them together and knowing their every romantic move, or not having any information as to what they’re up to next?
“Moving on!” She caps the Pringles and rolls to her side, all her blond hair draped over my pillows. “Why did he want you to his house early?”
“Huh?” I pretend to scroll on my phone, sidetracked, until I can think of an excuse. I don’t lie! I’m horrible at it. And some part of me is angry that Pastor Langley has put me in a position that I have to.
“Oh my God, did he hit on you?”
I jerk my gaze up from my phone. “No! Ew. No way!”
“Ew?” Her eyebrows pop high. “Ben Langley and the word ‘ew’ don’t even fit in the same universe, let alone the same sentence.”
“No, I know, I just…” I shrug. “It was just some changes to Elliot’s schedule, that’s all he wanted to talk about.” I give her my back to keep her from seeing through me and knowing I’m a big fat liar who is going to burn in hell.
“Huh.” She’s silent for a few seconds.
“Well, I should get to bed. I’m exhausted.”
We say good night, and she goes to her room.
I crawl under my comforter with my phone in my palm and pull open Wyatt’s social media, then I go back to look at all our old photos he posted when we were together.
I fall asleep imagining we’re together again.
5
Bethany
The weekend went by quickly. Wyatt and Suzette were at church with his family on Sunday, but they must’ve come in through the door on the north side, so I didn’t get a chance to greet them.
The sermon was about… um… okay, well, I wasn’t really paying attention, but I do remember him saying something about going through trials and how God is with us or something like that. Sue me! I couldn’t take my eyes off of Wyatt, the way he’d whisper things into Suzette’s ear or hold her hand.
Ashleigh managed to drag me to our favorite froyo place before I burst into tears. I started my period that night, so I’m sure that’s all that was.
My eyes still feel a little puffy as I ride the bus to Elliot’s house. After my Wyatt-and-Suzette-filled weekend, I’m looking forward to seeing Pete RN for a good laugh—or at the very least, the ego boost his flirting gives me.
I step off the bus, and rather than check Wyatt’s social media, I hit Play on my music and pop in my ear buds. Linkin Park is on rotation, and with the mood I’m in, I turn it up and growl the lyrics all the way to Pastors house.
“Good morning,” I say when I let myself inside.
“Bethany!” Elliot comes racing down the hallway and throws her arms around my waist.
“Whoa! Someone woke up with some energy this morning.”
She pulls back and looks up at me through a tangle of dark curls. “I have an uncle!”
I look down the hallway toward the bedrooms then back at Elliot. “Yeah, you do.”
Is she just now learning she’s related to a rock god? She races back down the hallway to her bedroom. I drop my purse on the couch, next to the pillows and blankets folded neatly on the end.
“Hey.” Pastor Langley comes from the hallway dressed and ready for the day, his coffee mug in hand.
“Good morning.”
He rinses his cup and puts it in the dishwasher then turns toward me. “My brother is up and moving around, so you may see him today. He’s asleep still, but he has an appointment today. A man by the name of…” He reaches into his breast pocket and pulls out a business card. “Dr. Harry Ulrich.” He stuffs the card back into his pocket. “He’ll be here sometime this morning, if you could let him in?”
“Of course.”
He smiles, but it’s sad. “Just show the doctor to my room and he’ll take care of the rest.”
I look around the pastor. “What about Pete?”
“Pete’s last day was yesterday.”
“What?”
“Yeah.” He frowns.
“That’s good, right? That means your brother is better?”
He nods solemnly and grabs his keys off the countertop. “Yeah, he is.”
He passes by me with a squeeze to my shoulder then disappears out the door.
Rather than sit and stare between the bedroom door and the front door, I go about my business. I pack Elliot’s lunch then wonder if she even ate breakfast. I pop my head into her room to find her happily engrossed in Barbies.
“Did you eat breakfast?”
“No. I want eggs.”
“What’s the magic word?”
Elliot looks up from her toys. “Please.”
I head back to the kitchen, making sure to keep my eyes pinned to the floor to avoid peeking at Jesse Lee’s door, and whip up scrambled eggs, proud I’ve avoided so much temptation today.
I drop butter in the hot pan as a door slams down the hallway. “Perfect timing.” I scramble the gooey eggs and turn toward the sound. “Your eggs will be ready in a…” I’m not met with the three-foot-something child, but rather a six-foot-something man staring right at me. I gulp. “Second.”
His glare tightens.
I try not to be obvious while taking him in. I only want to assure myself he’s not naked like he was the first time I saw him. Nope. Not naked. He’s wearing a gray T-shirt and a pair of worn-out jeans that are frayed around his bare feet. Convinced he’s fully clothed, my gaze bounces back to meet his. His eyes are similar to Ben’s, but more hazel than green. His hair is wet as if he’s fresh from a shower.
I clear my throat. “You, uh—” My voice shakes, so I clear it and wipe my hands on my shirt before stepping toward him and holding out my right hand. “You must be Jesse.”
His dark brows drop lower and he takes me in the same way I did him, but my guess is he’s not trying to convince himself I’m wearing clothes. Rather, I get the impression he’s trying to imagine what I’d look like out of them. From his curled upper lip, I’d say he’s not all that impressed.
My Pies and Pancakes polo and polyester black pants tend to do that to a man.
At the smell of my butter burning, I drop my hand and turn back to the stove. Clearly Mr. Poops Gold Records doesn’t feel the need to be polite to the peasants, so I’ll pretend he’s not here. Which is really hard to do when he steps into the small kitchen, invading my space. I drop the eggs into the pan and watch them bubble, ignoring his presence as I assume he gets himself a cup of coffee. I’m grateful when I feel him step away and hear the sliding glass door to the backyard open and close.
I exhale and scoop Elliot’s eggs onto a plastic Elsa plate, sprinkle on some cheese, and fill a matching Elsa cup with milk. “Elliot! Breakfast is ready!”
The thump of tiny feet sounds in the hallway, and she skids to a halt at the table before climbing into her booster seat.
I take the seat next to her and cut up the eggs a bit so they’ll cool faster. “Give them a minute so you don’t burn your mouth.”
Her gaze is cast forward, so I follow to see she’s staring at her uncle leaning against a wooden support beneath the patio overhang. He’s not looking at us, so I check out
the colorful tattoos that cover even the backs of his arms before disappearing under his T-shirt. His hair is short in the back and longer and messy on top and it’s the strangest color. Not brown or red but something in between—whoa! I duck my chin when he turns around abruptly.
“Eat up,” I say to Elliot, who doesn’t seem nearly as flustered at being caught staring.
The sliding glass door opens then closes, and I hold my breath until the seat across from me slides out and Jesse sits in it with a loud puff of air.
“Uncle Jesiah, want some eggs?” Elliot forks a bite and shoves it toward him.
I grin at her forwardness while simultaneously wondering about his name. Is Jesiah his real name or a nickname?
“No. I only eat organic.”
I pause at his tone—one I would expect between adults, but not from a grown man to a child.
Elliot’s face falls and she frowns at her eggs as if they’ve grown legs. “What’s organic?”
“It’s all right, just eat.” I shoot a quick glance at Jesse, only to see his eyes firmly planted in my direction. I do my best to ignore him when he’s making it nearly impossible to do so. “Drink your milk.”
I hope whatever fascination Jesse has with the side of my face ends soon, because my cheeks feel as if they’re going to burst into flames. He sips his coffee, not once taking his eyes off me, and Elliot finishes her eggs, leaves her milk, and asks to be excused to her room. Desperate for a reason to get away from the table, I let her go, snag the dishes, and hop up as quickly as I can—only to trip on the chair leg. My face ignites in a red-hot blush.
I scurry to the sink and rinse off the dishes, hoping that when I turn back, he’ll be gone. No such luck. He’s still slouched at the table, his legs wide beneath it, his hazel eyes latched firmly on me.
I open my mouth to say, “What!” but he beats me to it.
“What’s your name?” He’s not smiling. His expression is as casual as someone who asked for the time.
“Bethany?”
He tilts his head as if questioning my answer then leans forward with his forearms on the table. He nods at the seat across from him, and my body automatically jumps at his silent command, my brain only questioning it once I’ve sat down across from him. His eyes bore into mine and I’m forced, after a few seconds, to look away.
One thing about Jesse Lee? It’s impossible to absorb his attention head-on for too long. Small doses only.
“You wanna fuck?”
My gaze snaps to his. Did he just say…? As his words register, I push back from the table as if the piece of furniture has become a bedrock for immoral sex acts.
For the first time this morning, the man shows a hint of a smile. A smirk, really. “Not here. The bedroom. And make sure the kid doesn’t bother us.” He stands, leaving his empty coffee mug on the table. “Hurry before I change my mind.”
He doesn’t even look at me as he walks away and disappears into his bedroom.
With my jaw in my hand and my other hand on my racing heart, I’m left sitting at the table, wondering what the hell just happened.
Jesse
The more time that passes, the more I’m convinced sex is exactly what I need.
I knew Dave would surround me with men—Pete, Dr. Harry, a men’s recovery group. My manager doesn’t have to say it to send the message loud and clear. NO PUSSY!
How he let the homely little nanny slip under his radar is beyond me. Maybe he figured she wasn’t my type. He was right. She’s so ordinary, she practically blends in with the eggshell-colored walls. But I remember the sound of her sweet gasp, and I imagine all the other sounds I could get her to make while she’s wrapped around my hips.
Blood rushes like rockets through my veins to between my legs. Getting hard when I’m sober is such a different experience. The numbness from the booze and coke is gone and my brain is dry. Sex is going to feel phenomenal. I pop the button of my jeans and slip my hand beneath my boxers with a groan.
The little nanny better hurry up or I might finish myself off before she gets here.
I imagine her eyes were as wide when she caught me jacking off as they were this morning when she saw me in the kitchen. Big, innocent, I knew immediately she recognized me despite my brother’s insistence that he wasn’t telling anyone who I am. Fine by me.
I pull up the image of nanny whatsherface—fuck, what was her name? No matter. Her skinny legs, flat chest, and makeup-free face shouldn’t do it for me, but what can I say? I’m desperate. She’s female. And in that ridiculous outfit that does nothing for her already non-existent curves? Fuck, how is this shit keeping me hard?
My head lolls to the side and I check the clock. Twenty minutes have passed since I propositioned her and she’s still not here? Maybe she’s putting on a movie for the kid? I’ll give her a few more minutes.
With my eyes closed, I keep myself on the edge, building and building only to pull back right at the cusp of a mind-blowing orgasm. I groan. Damn, I ache.
There’s a soft knock at the door, and the sound alone almost sends me spiraling. I picture her walking in in some everyday cotton panties and piece of crap sports bra and I’ll be damned, I’m still anxious to get at her. “Come in.”
The door clicks open, and I expect to feel the heat of her thighs as she straddle my hips.
Instead, I hear the clearing of a throat.
A masculine throat.
I blink open my eyes and stare at the ceiling.
“Mr. Langley, am I interrupting something?”
I roll my head to the side to find a gray-haired man in a suit with a leather folder in his hand. “Yes.”
He lifts a bushy white brow. “We have an appointment. You’ll have to finish that up later.” He steps inside and closes the door.
I slip my hand from my jeans and curse the nanny. I have the worst case of blue balls in the history of the male species, and it’s all her fault.
6
Bethany
My stomach is in knots.
With each mile, the pain in my gut increases until the driver slows at my stop. I turn my phone over in my hand, my eyes glued to the brown roof of Pastor Langley’s house, and I can’t get my feet to move me off the bus.
“Bethany?” Darrell, the bus driver, calls. “You okay?”
I shake my head and gather my things. “Fine, thank you.” I sling my purse over my shoulder and smile at him before heading down the three steps, stopping short on the last.
Since my encounter with Jesse yesterday, I’ve been on edge. After he told me to meet him in his room, I got Elliot ready and we went to the park before school. The psychiatrist showed up as we were walking out the door, so I was able to let him in before jogging away. I couldn’t sleep all night as I replayed Jesse’s cold stare, his emotionless proposition, and his answering smirk.
One word throbs in my head at the thought of Jesse Lee—predator.
He reminds me of those sharks that chase down the rubber seals behind boats then sneak up from underneath them. That makes me the rubber seal.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Darrell says from behind me.
I stare at my feet and force them off the bus. “Yes. Thanks.”
The air brakes announce my fate as the bus leaves me a few houses away from Pastor Ben’s. During my obsessing last night, I wondered if I should talk to Ben about what happened. I even considered quitting as an option, but I need the money if I’m ever going to put my mistakes behind me once and for all.
“One depressing thought at a time there,” I whisper and square my shoulders.
Jesse Lee is just a man, and at twenty-four-years-old, I need to be comfortable standing up for myself. With a shove of courage, I walk toward the house, and as I approach, I notice a sleek black car in the driveway. The rims are chrome, and I can see my reflection in them. The windows are tinted so dark, I can’t tell if anyone is sitting inside.
I head to the house and knock twice before walking in, pausing in the doorway
with my hand on the doorknob. The fight-or-flight instinct roars through my veins when a pair of bored and indifferent hazel eyes meet mine. They quickly morph to thin, angry slits, forcing my gaze away and into safer waters. It’s not too late to turn around and run.
“Hi,” I say to Pastor Ben, who smiles warmly.
“Bethany, come on in.”
I step inside, feeling Jesse’s eyes on me the whole time as I drop my purse on the couch. He’s sitting at the kitchen table, next to a man I’ve never seen. I search for Elliot, but she’s not in the living room, so I head back to her bedroom, needing the distance from Jesse before I pass out from lack of oxygen.
“Oh, hang on,” Ben says. “Can we talk to you for a second?”
I wonder if maybe Ben found out about what happened yesterday and is going to fire me or lecture me on—God, Bethany! Stop it! You’re the victim here. You didn’t do anything wrong.
“Sure.” I move toward the seat farthest from Jesse only to see Ben take it. The only other seat that’s not less than a foot away from Jesse has Elliot’s booster strapped into it. I lower myself to the seat right next to Jesse, but I keep my butt cheek on the edge farthest from him. “What’s up?”
I risk a peek at Jesse, who has intensified his glare by tilting his head. Thankfully Ben speaks up and I give Jesse my back, or as much as I’m able while balancing on my left butt cheek.
“First off, I wanted you to meet my brother,” Ben says, motioning to the man behind me. When I don’t turn around, Ben frowns.
“We met.”
Ben’s eyes dart to the new guy, who then glares at Jesse.
“What?” Jesse barks.
Ben seems to shake off something. “Right, okay, good, so Jesiah, you’ve met Elliot’s nanny, Bethany Parks.” He doesn’t allow too much silence after his statement. “This is Dave Mann, Jesiah’s manager.”
That explains the fancy car. The guy looks to be in his late thirties, dirty-blond hair, super blue eyes, but the set of his jaw tells me his boy-next-door look is a façade and he doesn’t take crap from anyone—not even a spoiled rotten and rude rock star. “Bethany, it’s nice to meet you.”