The Small Town Preacher's Fake - Lucy McConnell Page 0,37

don’t have the energy to chase her around the bed every night.” Mr. Lucas threw his shoe and missed entirely.

“Guys.” Seth held up a hand. “Come on. I’m a preacher, for heaven’s sake.”

“What—that means you can’t be a man?” asked Mr. Green. He set his jaw. “Don’t know if I trust a preacher who doesn’t understand the desires of the flesh.”

Seth’s mouth dropped open. “What do you mean by that?”

Mr. Green lifted a shoulder. “How can you relate to us—” He waved his hand around, indicating the attendees. “—if you don’t know how we feel? Or the temptations we’ve faced?”

Seth silently hoped these men weren’t facing the types of temptations he waded through when he walked through the front door. “I came from a rough background. I’m no saint—I promise you that. But I’m always trying to be close to Christ.”

Mr. Lucas nodded toward the ladies quilting happily, his wife among them. “That sweet woman, and loving her in every way provided, has brought me closer to Jesus than any sermon on death or hell over could.”

“I think what he’s trying to say is, just because it’s fun don’t mean it ain’t right.” Mr. Duncan snickered.

Seth shook his head. “You’re all shameless, you know that?”

They laughed. “We’re experienced enough to appreciate the good things in life,” said Mr. White. “Youth is wasted on the young. That’s for sure.”

Seth softened at their teasing. They weren’t trying to make him feel inferior; they were imparting wisdom hard-earned and long-taught.

“That wife of yours, she’s the best thing that’ll ever happen to you.” Mr. Duncan touched his heart. “Make sure she knows it.”

“I will,” he replied automatically. On the outside, he looked like a newlywed, a man who shared longing looks with his new bride. Inside, he was a bundle of confusion. If only he hadn’t put restrictions on their marriage in the beginning. If only he’d left the possibility of a physical relationship within their grasp.

Evie wasn’t angry about the kiss. She’d seemed to enjoy it in the moment. But he’d felt guilty breaking their vows. The best way he could care for her was to be the man of truth and honor he’d promised. Even if that meant he couldn’t tell her how he felt.

Besides wanting to kiss her, there was a deep, warm feeling that spread through him whenever she was near, or if he thought about her, or smelled her perfume in the living room. The feeling was getting stronger with each passing day. He had to shore himself up, be a mountain of willpower, because if he crumbled, he could lose her.

And that was the last thing he wanted.

Chapter Sixteen

Evie

Evie’s skin felt tight from being in the sun all day. It also felt warm and wonderful. “What a beautiful day,” she said as she stared down at her empty plate. They’d had picnic leftovers for dinner. She stood and took her plate to the counter. “We have enough food in the fridge to feed a village for a month.”

Seth leaned back and rubbed his impossibly flat stomach. The man put away enough brownies and potato salad to feed three men but didn’t gain a pound. “I did my part.”

She giggled. “Yes, you did.” She turned on the faucet. “You know, if we had a youth group, we could put on quite the spread this week. It was so much fun playing volleyball with those girls. They’re good and innocent and happy. I can’t help but want to protect that inside of them. It’s all too soon that life will hit and they’ll have to grow up.”

Seth didn’t answer, so she prattled on. “I’ve been thinking on ways to organize. We could have a prayer and a scripture—maybe something shared by one of the kids. It would mean so much more coming from them than it would coming from you or me.”

“Well, maybe me.” Seth got up, brought his dish over, and then began clearing the table. “I’m pretty sure those girls would follow you to the moon.”

Her cheeks split with a grin, and her skin tingled. “Have you talked to Mr. White?”

Seth turned quickly. “Not yet.”

She frowned. The witness feeling that a youth group was needed in this ministry had been so strong during the picnic; it wasn’t a prompting she could ignore. But she didn’t want to push her husband for fear of pushing him away.

If only prayer could take care of household chores. There was a mountain of dishes to wash on the counter. It seemed every