The Small Town Preacher's Fake - Lucy McConnell Page 0,27
around to see her smiling at him. Her hair fell over one shoulder, and her eyes were bright and so full of beauty that they knocked the sense out of him. “Hey.” He glanced down at the cold drink in his hand. “Thirsty?”
“And hungry.” She motioned to the table before walking over and taking a seat. “Thanks for lunch. This looks great.”
They sat down, said grace, and then dug in, smiling at one another. Seth racked his brain for something to say that didn’t include the church donation. For all he knew, her deep thoughts were about the youth program they lacked. If he could surprise her with some good news tomorrow after the meeting, he would. Though getting her hopes up and then having them dashed if he was unable to get the board on the same page could be devastating.
Another reason to keep the donation hushed was that, while it was a wonderful blessing, it was also tainted with the fact that Mr. White didn’t trust him. Which brought up all sorts of issues for him, being the son of an untrustworthy drunk. On one level, he knew Mr. White wasn’t dropping his father’s sins in his lap—he didn’t even know about them—but on another, it felt awfully familiar to the way people used to look at him when he’d walk into the gas station or store.
“Do you think I’m strange?” Evie’s question broke through his thoughts.
He focused his gaze on her, once again taken aback by her all-American beauty. She was so wholesome, it made him feel like a cad for marrying her. She deserved so much more than him.
He scolded himself for such thoughts. It wasn’t where a man came from that defined him, but where he went in this life. And if he believed all the things he preached about Jesus, then even the lowest man could be redeemed.
Wanting to bring a smile to her face, he tried joking. “Well, you married me, so there must be something weird about you.”
Her eyebrows pinched together and a small, concerned line formed between them. Worse than that, she didn’t laugh.
He plunged forward, trying to make up for his blunder. “Then again, I advertised for a bride, so maybe we’re a match.”
Her brow relaxed. “You’re a good man, Seth.” She laid her hand over his. “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”
He turned his hand over and clasped hers. “Or miracles.”
She searched his face. The air between them grew warm and then began to crackle. Like a piece of paper with a match held to it. It colored first, and then a flame burst forth.
His eyes dropped to her lips. They were both beautiful bows. He wanted to run his lips across them, knowing that there would be melodic moments that followed.
Before the fire fully ignited, they both pulled their hands away and set them in their laps. They breathed loudly, as if they’d sprinted from the front door to the grocery store and back.
Evie stood and took her empty plate to the counter. “I almost forgot,” she said, her voice too high.
Seth cleared his throat, recognizing the longing that had tightened his vocal cords and needing to get it under control. He didn’t want to frighten Evie away by allowing her to know how much he’d wanted to kiss her.
He’d almost kissed her.
He shoved the last of his chips in his mouth. They crunched loudly as he chomped away, needing a distraction from his thoughts. The salty flavor was a smack in the face when he’d been craving something much sweeter.
“Mrs. Mitchell had her baby yesterday. They’re due back from the hospital tonight.”
Seth swallowed and took a big gulp from his can. “I can only imagine the chaos with Jerom missing his mom for a night and finally getting her back.”
She nodded as she washed her plate.
“We should make them dinner.”
She jerked around, her mouth hanging open. “I was going to say the same thing.”
He smiled. “Great. We’ll make it together.” Anything he could do to spend more time with her.
She eyed him. “We have to make something a little more substantial than chicken salad sandwiches.”
He got to his feet. “Jerom won’t notice. We’ll make grilled cheese.”
She laughed. “You’re probably right. But Momma needs nourishment.”
He set his plate on the counter, his arm brushing hers. He just couldn’t seem to stay away long. “Probably Dad, too.” His voice had gone low and intimate. He didn’t mean for it to happen, but he was close enough to smell the