Preacher's Daughter - Flora Ferrari Page 0,21
only honor him by doing the same, and I remind myself to do as he just asked and trust him like a woman who loves him should.
“What about my Dad?” I hear myself asking.
More like I’m asking myself out loud. I can see his face in my mind, the hurt and the worry. The pain he’ll be in once he knows I’ve left with Noah.
“It’s not like we’re going to the moon, Faith. I just have to drive to Louisiana, make my delivery and then we can do whatever you want.”
Hearing him say it so simply takes the edge off, but I know my Dad won’t see it that way.
“It’ll all make sense in a day or two, tops. I promise, Faith. When was the last time you got out anyway?” he asks me.
“I only came back from college yesterday, been gone four years, only came home twice for two days at a time,” I tell him truthfully with a straight face.
“Oh. Well, no harm in keeping that momentum going for another day or so, eh?” he asks, looking away gnawing his own lip now.
He’s started to do what I do. I never noticed him do that before.
I wonder what other habits we’ll pick up from each other.
A couple of days? I think even my Dad should be okay with that unless I tell him who I’m with.
“I think Dad will be fine with it,” I announce, deciding to lie to my Dad instead.
Like a lot of things lately, there’s a first time for everything, and a white lie to my Dad to protect his feelings is worth more than a ton of the truth I now would crush him right now.
Noah stops what he’s preparing and comes over to me, his arms wrapping around me and squeezing me tight.
“I meant what I said, Faith. My life started yesterday. Everything else is deadwood that will fall away.”
I want to ask him about the case again, but know better now.
“What is it about your past that’s so bad?” I ask instead, only hoping to understand him better.
He holds my face in his hands and kisses me gently before answering, “It wasn’t so bad. Every minute was leading up to the moment I met you,” he says cryptically.
“I never really think about the past,” I tell him.
“It’s always been just me and Dad here, then I went off to college. My whole life’s been more about the future than the past.”
“And what did you major in at college?” he asks with interest, relaxing his grip so he can keep making us something to eat.
“Economics,” I tell him, making a face that almost mirrors his as he screws it up.
“But I was more interested in my other subjects, I wanted to switch to classical literature but by that stage it was too late,” I recall, heaving a sigh.
“Sounds like you do have a past after all,” he says dryly, holding up a piece of each type of bread with a cocked brow in question.
“Both,” I tell him. “Why not? We can have rye and white can’t we?” and we both laugh.
“Spoken like a true literary economist,” he says loudly, and I watch him, fascinated by the simple movements of his huge body as he makes us both sandwiches.
“I could watch you all day, Noah Templeton,” I observe, making his lip curl with satisfaction.
“It’s gonna be a face-off then,” he announces, handing me my sandwich.
“Why?” I ask innocently.
“Because I’ve thought the same thing about you a million times already since I first laid eyes on you.”
I feel myself blush, but it’s thrilling to hear him talk like this. I never knew anyone, let alone a man like Noah would ever dream of looking at me twice, let alone be so infatuated with me. Like I know I am with him.
Obsessed is probably the word.
“You hungry?” I remark, noting the stack of sandwiches he’s made.
“It’s a long drive. We don’t have to-” he starts to say, but it’s alright.
Like I already decided, I’ll eat whatever Noah puts in front of me. Anything that’s made by him is pure nourishment for me.
Although, I forgot to mention to him how much I hate pickles, which I realize he’s put on every single sandwich, including the one I’m eating.
Reading my mind, or maybe just my face, Noah takes my sandwich and puts it on top of his.
“If you don’t like pickles, why didn’t you say so?” he asks, laughing to himself before asking me what I want on