The Small Town Preacher's Fake - Lucy McConnell Page 0,28

light vanilla scent on her skin.

“You’re probably right,” she replied barely above a whisper.

He touched the small of her back. She arched, bringing her face closer to his.

“Evie?” He ran his hand up her back, pulling her close.

Her eyes dropped to the floor, breaking the connection, and his hopes were dashed.

He stepped back. “I-I think we’re out of ground beef. I’ll go get some for a meat loaf.”

“That sounds perfect. I’ll … start some potatoes.” She brushed her hands on her hips and rubbed her lips together.

In a daze, Seth grabbed his keys and wandered out to the car. He sat behind the wheel, wondering what had just happened. He’d been worried about his wife, and then he’d tried to kiss her. He shook his head. He was a fool. Any man worth his salt would know what his heart wanted. Even though Seth understood the attraction between them, he wasn’t sure how he’d almost lost his head. He’d have to keep a tighter hold on things, or he’d do something stupid.

Like kiss his wife and scare her off.

Chapter Eleven

Evie

Evie carefully balanced the warm pan as she and Seth walked up the Mitchells’ front steps. A cartoon played on the television, visible through the large front window. Jerom danced in the middle of the room. He wore pajama bottoms and his church shirt with the buttons undone. It flapped around as he spun with a big grin on his face.

Seth adjusted his grip on the large basket he carried. Inside were fresh rolls, a bag of salad, and the mashed potatoes and gravy. Maybe it wasn’t a fancy meal, but it was hearty.

“At least we know they’re home.” He knocked, and a moment later, Jerom pulled the door open.

“Dad! The preacher’s here.” He ran away before anyone appeared to take his place.

Evie glanced at Seth. “I guess we just go on in?”

He pulled his lips back. “After you?”

“Thanks.” She stepped inside and took in the layout of the house. Across the room and to the right, she could make out a countertop, so she headed that way. The lights were off, so she was careful not to trip and spill the carefully prepared dish. The smell of sour milk made her wrinkle her nose.

Seth set the basket on the counter and found a light switch.

Evie blinked once and then grimaced at the layers of dirty dishes in the sink. The smell of sour milk grew stronger.

Jerom ran back in, his shirt off. “What’s that?” He pointed to the basket.

“Dinner.” Evie smiled. “Are you hungry?” She pulled out the package of rolls and pointed to them. Her mom used to complain that she got up at 3 a.m. on Thanksgiving to put in a turkey, but all the kids would eat were the rolls. She hoped Jerom was like that too.

He stared at them as if they were manna from heaven. His chin began to go up and down until he was fully nodding.

She opened the bag and held one out to him.

He took a big bite. “Thwanks.”

She laughed. “You’re welcome.”

“Where’s your dad?” asked Seth.

“He’s—” Bite. “—highdbf babdfu sdfo.” The kid couldn’t get a solid word out around his mouthful of food.

“Well, that clears that up.” Seth gave her a look asking, What do we do?

Evie thought back to the times she’d gone with her mother to deliver meals to new parents. Mom would hold the baby and coo for a while, but she never left without doing something to help lift the load. Evie shoved her sleeves up her arm. “We’re going to help Jerom do the dishes.”

“You are?” asked Jerom.

“We are?” echoed Seth.

She chuckled. “Yes, we are.” She began lifting things out of the sink. “Jerom, can you find a dishcloth and towel? You get to tell Seth where everything goes.”

He grinned. “I fran do frat.” Crumbs flew out of his mouth as he spoke.

Evie added sweeping to the list. It took less time than the sink needed to fill with bubbles for them to get into a rhythm. Seth was great with Jerom, asking questions that made him feel important because he knew where the measuring cups went, alternating with making him laugh by pretending to put things in the wrong place. Evie’s heart melted at the exchange.

Seth would make a great father.

The thought was there in her head before she had a chance to stop it. The darn thing was like a thief jumping out from the shadows to startle her. She gave herself a mental shake