“The men who hung on crosses next to Jesus were criminals, and one even came to faith. Jesus told him He would see him in paradise. If Jesus didn’t give up on a criminal why should we?”
I hadn’t thought of it that way before. “I don’t know. It just seems like some of them aren’t worthy.”
“None of us are worthy. That’s the whole point of the gospel. Jesus died because of our sin, and the Bible says that all have sinned. Not one of us can take ourselves out of that equation.”
“I agree with that, but some sin more than others.”
“The Lord is able to redeem even the vilest sinner, and He calls us to reach the lost, the ones everyone else has given up on.” His eyes were lit from within as he spoke, as if this had been his passion all along, and I was just now seeing it.
“I suppose that’s true.” I brought my gaze to my meal, not sure what to say to all of that. While I agreed with him technically, I still didn’t think I would want to talk to a hardened criminal.
“Prison ministry is only one of the things we do. Street ministry probably takes up more of our time.”
“What does that mean…street ministry?”
“A group of us from church go to Skid Row in downtown L.A. where there’s a large homeless population. We bring food, share the gospel, pray with people and offer whatever resources we can.”
“Wow. That must be difficult.”
“It is. It’s hard to see people suffer, but it’s even worse to turn a blind eye.”
I felt cut to the quick by that statement. It was as if the words were tiny lights, exposing the darker parts of my heart, the parts that didn’t reach beyond myself to help my fellow man. My sheltered world included me, my parents, and our small church. There wasn’t room for anyone else, and it hurt to see myself that way—as that kind of person. The feeling of remorse was so strong, tears blurred my vision, and I had to stare down at my plate to hide how deep those words had burrowed into my soul.
“Tizzy? Are you okay? I’m probably going on and on about this. We can talk about something else if it makes you uncomfortable.”
I shook my head, still unwilling to look up at him, to meet those eyes that were full of passion. “No, I want to hear more.” I blinked back the tears and took a sip of water. “Tell me more.”
“What did I do? I don’t want to upset you again.”
I finally met his gaze. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I just feel... I never…” Clearing my throat, I glanced away. “I don’t do anything like that. I rarely reach out to people outside my church. And now that I think about it more, I’m ashamed that I’ve been so passive.”
He reached across the table and clasped my hand. “Maybe God is leading you to join us.”
I blinked. What? No. Absolutely not. I couldn’t go to Skid Row. I felt bad…I really did, but that didn’t mean I should join them. “Oh, I don’t think so.”
“There are other things you can do. The church has a hospital ministry visiting sick children. It’s not as if street ministry is the only way to serve.”
“I know.” My stomach churned, not because the food wasn’t good, but because he had basically held up a mirror, and I didn’t like what I saw. But even after having that image, I wasn’t sure if I had what it took to move forward.
“Tell me about some of your hobbies,” Dex said, changing the subject. He must have sensed my discomfort.
I breathed in and let it out. “I enjoy sewing.”
“That’s a lost art these days. Or so I hear.”
“It really is. Most people prefer to buy their clothes at the store, but Mom taught me to make my own at a young age.”
I told him about the sewing projects I’d started before I got the news I had to move to California, and we talked about a lot of other things, though my mind kept wandering to our earlier conversation. When our break was nearly over, Dex paid the bill, and we returned to the shop. It was strange how one lunch could shake me up that much and make me question everything.
When I got home after work, I went to my room and spent some time alone reading and praying. I sensed God’s hand on me, pruning me in some way, taking out the weeds that were holding back new growth.
Each day I read a chapter in my Bible, and I’d been in the book of Matthew for a while now. I turned to chapter twenty-five where I’d left off. As I opened the page I’d bookmarked and began to read, I felt God pulling on my heart the way He had during lunch with Dex. The same way He had during that sermon at church when Pastor Chamberlain said to love our neighbor.
And then I came to a passage that rocked my world.
Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me.’ Then the righteous will answer him, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?’ And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.’
The floodgates opened up, and tears spilled down my cheeks. Dex had asked me two questions the night we sat outside by the firepit, two questions that had stayed with me ever since. He’d wanted to know if the Lord was the passion of my heart—if He was the driving force of my life.
While it was true that I loved Him, I hadn’t given Him my all, and I certainly hadn’t loved others the way He wanted me to. As I bowed my head to pray, I knew the Lord didn’t want me to hold back.
Oh, Lord, by neglecting those who need You, I’ve essentially pushed You away. I am so sorry, and my heart is breaking right now because I’ve lived in a bubble all these years. It wasn’t a bubble of my own making, but I’m still responsible for my actions or lack of them. Help me to love You so much that I’m willing to do whatever you ask.
***
The next day, I rose and made a large breakfast of biscuits, eggs, and bacon. Throughout the week, Grandpa had insisted on simple meals since we had limited time before we had to drive to L.A., but I think he was just trying to make things easier on me.
I had an extra bounce to my step this morning as I scurried around the kitchen. That conversation with Dex had weighed heavily on me, but I’d made a decision. I wanted to serve the Lord in some way whether it was in street ministry or something else. The previous night, I’d prayed that God would open the door and show me what He wanted me to do, and I trusted that He would.
“It smells delicious in here,” Grandpa said. “What did I do to deserve this?”
“There are too many things to list.” I laughed softly. “I should be doing this every morning.”
Grandpa’s eyes widened. “While I’d like to take you up on it, my cholesterol might disagree. My doctor said my numbers are a bit high right now, so I have to watch what I eat.”
I frowned. “Oh, I didn’t know that. I’m sorry. Did I just make it difficult for you?”
He walked over and gave me a quick hug and pat on the back. “Not at all. Got to splurge and enjoy life once in a while.”
I glanced at all the food I’d made and realized it probably wasn’t a good idea to divide it up between the two of us. That might tempt Grandpa to eat more than he should. “You know what? I’m going to run over and invite Dex to join us. We shouldn’t eat all of this by ourselves.”
Grandpa searched my face as if looking for something. “Great plan. Should have thought of it myself.”
I put my shoes on and hurried out of the back door leading to the expansive yard. By the time I reached the guesthouse, I was out of breath because I practically ran the entire way. The door swung open before I had a chance to knock.
Dex stood there, hair disheve
led, concern crossing his features as he slid on a white t-shirt. It happened so fast, a split-second, really, but it was just enough to give me a glimpse of his washboard abs. I closed my eyes, trying to erase that image from my head. Not good. I hadn’t realized that might happen, and I certainly didn’t need that image to taunt me later on. Maybe I should have sent Grandpa to fetch him.
“What’s wrong? Is someone here?” Alarm sparked in his eyes as he glanced all around. He put a hand on my shoulder and moved past me to get a better look.
“Everything’s fine. I’m just inviting you to breakfast.”
“Oh.” He stopped short, a pleased smile tugging at his lips. “Saw you running and thought…” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Well, it doesn’t matter. I’m glad there wasn’t an emergency.”
We both stood there, staring at each other with uncertain smiles. I finally stepped forward, and pulling my hair to one side, cleared my throat. “So…are you coming?”
“I ate breakfast already.”
“Oh.” I tried to hide the disappointment in my voice, but I didn’t do a good job. It wasn’t as if I wouldn’t see him later at work, but it would have been nice to spend a little time with him this morning.
“But I can eat again.”
“You don’t have to do that. I’m sure you’re—”
“If a hobbit can have a second breakfast, why can’t I?”
I laughed. “What’s a hobbit and why do they eat two breakfasts?”
He gawked at me as if I were an alien from another planet. “You haven’t seen The Lord of the Rings?”
“Uh, no.”
“Well, we’re going to have to fix that…like pronto.” He put a hand on my upper back, and we started walking towards the house.
“I don’t generally watch movies. Is it clean?”
“Yes, it’s clean. There’s some violence and some parts you might find scary, but it’s based on a classic by J.R.R. Tolkien.”
“Have you read the book?” We were just entering the back door and the scent of bacon hit my nose.
“Yep.”
I was in front of him as we walked through the hallway to the kitchen, but I stopped abruptly and glanced at him over my shoulder. “I wouldn’t take you for the reading type.”
He frowned. “Why not? Because I’m a biker?”
“Well…no.”
“You think because I’m a biker I don’t read.” It was a statement not a question this time.
I opened my mouth and closed it, not sure what to say. The last thing I wanted was to offend him, but, apparently, I’d done exactly that.
His gray eyes pierced into me. “Say what you’re thinking.”
I shrunk back a little, not wanting to admit anything. “You don’t want to know what I’m thinking.”
He smoothed out his features and put his hands on my shoulders. “It’s okay, I won’t bite your head off. I want to know what’s going through that pretty little head of yours.”
Hearing him call me pretty sent a wave of pleasure through me. I wasn’t used to compliments, and that one would have made me blush if it hadn’t been for the fact that I was too focused on what I didn’t want to reveal. I lifted his hand and began to pull him towards the kitchen. “Come on. The food will get cold if we don’t eat soon.”
Grandpa was just finishing a biscuit and standing from the table when we arrived. “This is delicious. I’m all done, so I’ll be in the other room, getting ready. You two eat.”
I made two plates of food and brought them to the table. “You don’t have to eat all of it if…” I stopped mid-sentence because Dex was chomping down on one of the biscuits.
“This is so good,” he said, chewing. He’d practically stuffed the whole thing in his mouth.
“You seem pretty hungry to me. I thought you already ate.” I smiled, trying to hold back how pleased I was that he appeared to like my biscuits.
He laughed. “I enjoy eating, and I happen to have a good metabolism.” He bit into a piece of bacon and watched me closely. “Tell me, what were you thinking back there in the hallway?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
His expression grew somber as he lowered his eyes to his plate. “I think I know.”
“What?” I was curious to know what he thought flashed through my head.
“You think that because I use poor grammar sometimes—”
“No, that’s not it!” I leaned forward in my seat. “Is that what you assumed?”
“I have no idea, sweetness. Why don’t you tell me?”
Sweetness. I loved it when he called me that. I was still reveling in the nickname when he cleared his throat.
“For the record,” he said, “I can turn the bad grammar on and off. It’s just slang.”
He continued to watch me with a concerned expression, so I finally came out with it. “We don’t have a lot in common, so I guess I didn’t think we would have reading in common either. I love books and thought it might be fun to go to the library together or something…” I bit down on my bottom lip. “I know that probably sounds boring to you, considering—”
“That doesn’t sound boring at all.” He leaned in, a slow smile tugging on his lips. “I’d love to take to you to the library sometime.” He rested his forearms flat on the table and edged closer. “We have a few things in common.”
I chewed on a piece of biscuit and cocked my head to the side. “Such as?”
“Do you love the Lord?”
“Yes.”
“Is family important to you?”
“Yes.”
“We have those two things in common, and I’d say they’re the most important.”
I laughed. “All right. I’ll give you that.” I ate a slice of bacon and turned to him, considering. “You haven’t told me much about your family.”
“The club is my family. My brothers…they’re everything to me.”
“Okay…but what about your parents?”
His shoulders went stiff, and he glanced away. His air of confidence seemed to fizzle, replaced with uncertainty. “That’s a conversation for another day.”
My eyebrows flew up. “Looks like I hit a nerve.”
“Just a little one.”
That was an understatement considering the look on his face. “Well, don’t worry. If anyone understands parents and nerve in the same conversation, it’s me. We don’t have to talk about it until you’re ready.”
“I appreciate that.”
We ate quietly for a while, and then he cleared his throat. “This is pretty stellar for a second breakfast.”
“What if it were a first? Would it still be good?”
“Oh, it would be even better. You’re an amazing cook, Tizzy. It’s not often I get to eat fresh biscuits.”
“Glad you like them.”
“You know what I think?”
“What?”
He flashed a lazy smile as he pressed his back into the chair. “I think you need to let me return the favor. How about I take you out to lunch later today?”
I squinted my eyes as if thinking. “I don’t know about that. Cass might ask me. He was pretty miffed I went out with you yesterday.”
The lazy smile slipped right off his face, and an intense expression I couldn’t quite decipher replaced it. “Cass, huh? Is that what you want? To have lunch with Cass?”
“I’m joking.” My attempt at humor completely fell flat because he did not look amused in the least. “Sorry, maybe that wasn’t funny. I was just trying to make light of—”
“I’d like to reserve all your lunches from this day forward.”
I remembered what Delia said about making him work hard, so I did something I had never done before. I looked right at him and winked. And then I said, “I’ll have to give that some thought. It’s a possibility, but I can’t promise you anything.”
A bewildered expression crossed his features, and then he relaxed as if coming to some sort of decision. “Fair enough. But will you consi
der going with me to the library this Saturday? We can make a day of it.”
Lunch was one thing, but spending an entire day with him was another. I needed to say no. I should definitely keep my distance.
But at the same time, I didn’t want to keep my distance.
I opened my mouth, and before I could change my mind, I said, “I would love that.” I winced a little, knowing nothing good could come from this. The more I was around Dex, the more I liked him, but once I left California, this thing with him would be over.
My heart might splinter into a million pieces and it would not be pretty.
But something told me it might be worth the risk.
Chapter 13
Dex
Tizzy decided to play it cool when it came to going out to lunch. I’d thought she was teasing when she said she couldn’t promise me her lunches, but, apparently, she was serious.
The rest of the week she brought a sack lunch and ate in the lunchroom with Delia and Tank. She turned down Cass as well, so it wasn’t personal. But ultimately, it felt like she was just beyond my grasp, and that made me want her even more. Not that it was about the chase… I’d wanted to snatch her up the first moment I laid eyes on her, but she’d had a boyfriend back then.
Of course, her being Tank’s granddaughter did complicate things. If it didn’t work out, and she was hurt in any way, Tank would skin me alive. But worse than that, there was another issue. Once Tizzy found out about my parents’ affair, she probably wouldn’t want to be around me, considering how conservative her family was. Tank had filled me in on a few things about her background, so I understood just how bleak the situation was. I understood God was sovereign over my family affairs and what happened wasn’t my fault…but would she understand that?
Problem was, I couldn’t get her off my mind, and I couldn’t stand the thought of her with Cass, a.k.a. “Casanova.” No, that wouldn’t do. Since giving up wasn’t an option, I would have to proceed cautiously. It would be a risk…but one worth the effort.
Blind Date with a Billionaire Biker (Blind Date Disasters Book 3) Page 12