by Elks, Carrie
He could still feel the burning on the back of his neck. The one that told him he was being watched. Maybe he should have brought some security to town with him, but really, what kind of asshole brought protection into their local church? It was a lose-lose situation. Either he sat here and took it, or he acted like a diva and walked out. As Aunt Gina looked up at him, her concerned expression illuminated by the half-light, he realized he was in for the count.
He just had to get through the next hour. He could do that, couldn’t he?
And then he’d avoid church for the next millennium or so.
* * *
Maddie busied herself in the still-quiet diner, wiping down tables that were already clean and rearranging the menus stacked in their holder on top of the counter. She always hated this part of Sunday, the calm before the storm, when church let out and everybody rushed to the diner to try and secure their favorite seats.
Last week there’d almost been a fight between Mary-Ellen Jones and Lucy Davies as they both tried to slide their ample behinds into the booth near the front door. It had taken ten minutes of negotiation and the offer of free pastries before Lucy could be persuaded to take the booth behind it.
The bell above the door rang out and Cora Jean walked in, her glorious silver hair pulled back into a perfect bun. Despite her age, she was sprightly, and still loved to work every Sunday to cover the post-church rush. She also managed to put the fear of god into most of Hartson’s Creek’s teenage population.
Seeing Cora reminded Maddie of her conversation with Gray. He wasn’t really planning to write a Trip Advisor report, was he? If he did, she’d have to refute it and apologize to Cora Jean. Oh god, what if it went viral?
She shook her head at her own idiocy. It’d seemed so funny pretending to be someone else at the time.
“What are all those folks doing hanging around the church?” Cora Jean asked as she hung her jacket on the row of hooks beside the counter. “I haven’t seen so many young’uns up this early since they released the last Harry Potter book.”
“That was ten years ago,” Maddie said, amused.
“Yeah, well they don’t make kids like they used to. They’re too busy watching videos on their phones and writing bleats to care about books anymore.” Cora Jean pulled her apron over her head, expertly avoiding her hair. “Do you know I miss the days when you were all television addicts?”
“Bleats?” Maddie repeated.
“You know, that twitter thing. Bleats. Don’t tell me you don’t know what they are?”
“They’re tweets. As in birds. That’s why it’s called Twitter.” Maddie had to bite down a laugh. “And I’m not sure the kids use that any more. It’s all Snapchat and Instagram. Anyway, why are there so many people at the church? Is there a christening or something?”
“Not that I know of.” Cora Jean shrugged. “They’re all sitting on the steps like they were waiting for a bus. With their phones stuck in their hands, of course.”
“I’m going to look.” Maddie walked to the door and stared out. The First Baptist Church was at the opposite corner of the big green grass square, partially obscured by the bandstand and oak trees that nestled around it. She craned her head up anyway, but it was no good. She couldn’t see a thing.
“You okay here if I leave for a moment?” she asked Cora Jean, who nodded.
Outside, Maddie walked around the square, stopping on the other side where, sure enough, there was a crowd of at least thirty people, all staring up at the whitewashed walls of the First Baptist building. When the oversize wooden doors opened the crowd started to buzz. Those who’d been sitting on the steps stood and surged toward the open door. The others joined them, pushing their way through with elbows, holding their phones up in the air.
“Is Gray Hartson in there?” one of the girls shouted.
“Yeah, we want Gray.”
The noise increased, and Maddie stood frozen to the ground, a little appalled and way too entertained.
Was Gray really in there? What the hell was he thinking? Hartson’s Creek might have been a sleepy little town, but it wasn’t comatose. News spread as quickly here as it did in LA and New York and whatever other city he was used to.
Quicker, probably, because bored people loved gossip.
Reverend Maitland appeared in the doorway. Even from here, Maddie could see the confusion on his face at the sudden interest the local kids were showing in the First Baptist Church. He held out his hands and she half expected the crowd to part like the Red Sea, but instead two girls ducked behind him and ran into the building.
“Young ladies!” Reverend Maitland called out, his brows pinched together. “The service is over.”
Maddie stifled a laugh. This was all so preposterous. And so out of the ordinary for a Sunday in Hartson’s Creek.
Another teenager bumped into Reverend Maitland and the smile slipped from Maddie’s face. Somebody was going to get hurt. Reverend Maitland stepped forward to steady himself, and the space he’d vacated was immediately filled by more people.
Maddie let out a big mouthful of air and walked toward the church, frowning as Reverend Maitland was forced down another couple of steps. “Hey!” she called out, trying to push through all the people. “You guys need to chill. Stop pushing.”
It was as though they’d heard nothing. They continued to push against each other and the Reverend. Maddie had to elbow people out of the way to reach him.
She reached for his arm. “Are you all right?”
“I’m okay,” he said, a little breathless. “Maybe a little bruised. But there’s a young man in there who’s a lot worse off than me.”
“Is Gray in there?” she asked. Even though her voice was low, the mention of his name made the crowd roar again.
“I’m afraid so. I told them all to remain seated while I went to see what was going on out here. And now I can’t get back in.”
“Can you let the Reverend back in his church, please?” she called out to the crowd on the steps. “Come on, show a little respect.”
Apparently, respect was a scarce commodity around here. But her elbows seemed to work where her request didn’t, and somehow she managed to help Reverend Maitland back to the porch. “You should probably close the doors,” she told him as they reached the door. “I’ll call the police and get these teens cleared.”
“The only one on duty is Scott Davis. These kids will eat him for breakfast,” Reverend Maitland told her. “We need to get Gray Hartson out of here. That should take the wind out of their sails.”
“Where is he?”
“In the third row when I saw him last.” Reverend Maitland gestured to the middle of the church. Nobody was sitting down anymore. They were all milling around, talking rapidly, their eyes wide as though nothing like this had ever happened in Hartson’s Creek.
“Is the back door open?” she asked.
“Yes. You just need to push the safety bar. But there’s nowhere to go except around to the front of the church.”
She remembered it well. The rear of the First Baptist was surrounded by the backyards of the road beyond. And in front of those was the river. Whether you were walking or driving, the only way out was around the town square.
“I’ll work it out,” she muttered. “It’s that or feed him to the lions.”
Chapter Six
“This is stupid,” Gray said to his aunt as she held onto his arm. He was exasperated by all the fuss going on around him. “I’ll just go out there and let them take some photos. They’ll get bored soon enough.” He went to walk away, but she grasped on tighter. He could have easily prized her off, but there was no way he wanted to hurt her.
“Stay here,” she said firmly. “Reverend Maitland will deal with it.”
“It’ll be easier on everyone if I go. I don’t want anybody to get hurt.” He could imagine the headlines now. He was big enough and bad enough to take care of himself, after all.
“Here comes Reverend Maitland,” the woman
standing next to them said. “And he doesn’t look very happy.”
“Is everything okay?” Aunt Gina asked as Reverend Maitland approached them. “Has the crowd gone?”
She loosened her grip and Gray took the opportunity to pull his arm away. “Sorry about this,” he said to the reverend. “I’ll go out and speak to them and ask them to leave. That way everybody can get on with their day.”
“No, I really don’t advise that.” Reverend Maitland’s cheeks were pink. “They’re a little bit… overexcited. I want you to leave through the back door, the one between the pulpit and the organ. Someone’s waiting there to help you out.”
Gray looked at the door then back at the reverend. “The back door?” he repeated. “You want me to make a run for it? I’m not scared of them, it’ll be fine.” This was getting crazy. It was Hartson’s Creek, not Hollywood.
“You might be, but I’m worried about the girls out there. It’s safer if you disappear.”
“He’s right, Gray,” Aunt Gina told him. “It’ll be easier if you leave by the back door.”
“All right. I’ll go. Even if this is all damn crazy. Are you coming?”
She shook her head. “I’ll slow you down.”
“We’ll take care of her,” Reverend Maitland told him. “Once you’re gone, the crowd will disperse. And then maybe I can have some breakfast.”
“Gray! Gray Hartson! Where are you?” somebody called out.
“You should go now!” Reverend Maitland said urgently.
Gray had been hustled out of places before – usually surrounded by his security detail, his head down until he climbed into a waiting car and was driven away. But he’d never had to escape from a church before. And if he was honest, it felt a little emasculating.
He shook his head and kissed his aunt on her cheek. “I’ll see you at home, okay?”
She nodded and he followed Reverend Maitland’s directions, striding toward the door, yanking it open, and walking through. Another step forward and he walked into something small and warm and… shit… did he knock someone over?
No, not someone. Her. Again.
“Cora Jean?” he asked, as she stumbled against the clothes rail on the side of the tiny room. “Did I hurt you?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I’m fine.” She straightened the robes that were hanging from the rail. “We need to get out of here. Follow me.”
“Follow you?” His brows knit together. “Where are we going? The diner?”
She grinned at him, and he found his lips curling up in response. She was still wearing her Murphy’s Diner apron over her tight jeans and black tank. Even with it covering her body, it was impossible to ignore the curves beneath. She licked her dry lips and he tried not to stare at them. Honestly.
“We’re not going to the diner,” she said, inclining her head at the door on the other side of the robing room. “I hope you go to the gym regularly. We’re going to climb through a few backyards.”
Gray resisted the urge to smile at the serious expression on her face. She wanted to play the savior and who was he to let her down? And if it meant spending a little more time with her, he could live with that.
“Come on,” she said, grabbing his hand, leading him to the emergency exit on the far side of the room.
She tried to push the bar, but it didn’t move. “Here, let me,” Gray murmured, pressing down on the bar. It gave with a metallic sigh and the door opened into the churchyard.
Grey looked around and saw the yard was empty. Thank God. “Where next?” he asked, letting her lead the way.
“Over here.” She pointed at the fence. “We climb over the Thorsens’ fence, then through the hole in the Carter’s wall. You’ll be pleased to hear there’s a gate between the Carters and the Shortlands.” She winked at him. “Rumor has it, old man Shortland was having a tryst with Mamie Carter and the gate made things a little easier.”
Small towns. He’d forgotten how much they drove him crazy.
The first fence was easy. Gray went in front, lifting himself up easily, his biceps contracting as he swung his body over the ridge. He held a hand out to Cora who took it and scrambled up beside him, the two of them dropping to the lawn on the other side.
“Where’s the hole?” he asked.
She blinked. “It was there,” she said, pointing at five rows of bricks. “I’m sure it was. Just enough to wriggle through.”
“Did you wriggle through it often?”
She pulled her lip between her teeth and damn. What was it about this woman? “I wasn’t a big fan of church when I was a kid,” she confessed. “Whenever the sermon got boring, I’d go to the bathroom and escape for a while. Nobody ever noticed.”
“You really are going to hell.” He grinned.
“We both will be unless we get out of here.” She looked at the big house at the end of the two-hundred foot yard. “Maybe we can knock on the Thorsens’ back door. They’ll let us through.”
Gray shook his head. “Nah. Let’s not get them involved. Besides, I want to watch you climb that wall.”
She raised an eyebrow and he wanted to smooth it back down. “You think I can’t do it?”
“I didn’t say that. Just said I wanted to watch.”
“Hmm.” She walked over to the wall and looked it up and down, as though trying to work out the easiest way over. It was towering over her. Taller than him, too, but with a jump and the strength of his arms he was pretty sure he could scale it.
She tipped her head to the side and flexed her hands. He watched as she rolled on her feet, her body tensing as she readied herself to launch.
“Wish me luck,” she muttered. Bending her knees, she pressed down on the grass then jumped up, the tips of her fingers skimming against the top of the wall.
And then she fell back, her legs staggering against the grass. Gray walked forward until her body hit his with some force.
Enough to take his breath away.
“Oof.” She leaned her body against his and the warmth of her surged through him. He had to curl his hands into fists to stop himself from sliding them around her and pressing his fingers into her skin.
She tipped her head back against his chest until her eyes met his. They were hot and intense, as though she could read his mind. He swallowed, shocked by how his body responded to hers. If this was another time, another place…
“Who’s there?” a voice called out from the house at the far end of the yard. He looked to see a figure standing on the deck, hands on hips.
“That’s Della Thorsen,” Cora murmured.
Gray lifted his hand in a wave. “Shall we get out of here?” he asked Cora.
“You go. I’ll throw myself at Della’s feet and beg for forgiveness.”
“Save your begging for another time,” he said, his voice thick. “I’ll help you over the wall.”
“And how do you intend to do that?”
“Like this.” He threaded his fingers together, palms up, then scooted down in front of the wall.
She sighed. “I’m too heavy. I’ll break your fingers.”
“It’s okay, they’re insured.”
She gave him a look.
He grinned. “Hey, I figure you know who I am. These fingers are my tools. If I lose them, I lose a lot of money.”
“That’s a good reason for me not to stand on them,” she told him. “And for the record, I always knew who you were. You were wearing a hat, not a mask.”
“Well thank you for not giving me special treatment.”
“I warned you off the eggs,” she pointed out. “I’d call that special treatment.”
“I’m calling the police,” Della shouted from her deck. “You’re trespassing!”
“Come on,” Gray urged Cora. “Let’s get out of here.”
With a skeptical expression, she slid her foot into the cradle he’d made with his palms and reached her hands forward. Gray stood and flexed his arms to push her upward until her hands curled around the top of
the wall.
“What do I do now?” she called out. “I don’t think I can swing myself over.”
“Just keep holding on. I’ll give you another boost.” This time, he slid his hands around her warm, denim-clad thighs. “I’m going to push again,” he told her. “Try and go with the momentum.”
“I’m sending the dogs out,” Della Thorsen shouted. “Sic ’em, Dodger.”
“Dodger’s seventeen years old and incontinent,” Cora muttered to him. “Ignore her.”
Gray slid his hands until they were right below the swell of her behind, then launched her up, letting go as she swung her legs with the momentum of his thrust. Her foot almost hit his face, and he had to step backward to avoid the collision, but sure enough she made it over the wall. He took a running jump and reached for the top of the stones, easily pulling himself over before he dropped to the other side.
“You make it look simple,” she muttered. “That’s not fair.”
This time, they didn’t stop to see if the homeowner was going to let their dogs out. Gray took her hand and they ran to the gate at the back of the yard. It was bolted shut, the lock rusty, but he managed to shimmy it free and opened the gate to let Cora out first.
As soon as it closed behind them, he started to laugh. Not just because his whole morning had been completely absurd, but because the adrenaline pumping through his warm veins was making him feel high. He leaned against the fence, letting his head tip back, as his chest erupted with loud amusement.
“It’s not funny,” Cora said, though she was laughing, too, enough for her eyes to water and tears to escape. “Imagine the headlines, Gray Hartson Mauled by Hound of Hell as he Escapes from Church. You’d never live it down.”
“My publicist would love it,” he said. “It’d be great for sales.”
Another tear rolled down her cheek. Without thinking, he reached out to wipe it with his fingertip, feeling the damp warmth of her skin. She was flushed, her cheeks pink and glowing, and it did something to him.