The Small Town Preacher's Fake - Lucy McConnell Page 0,9
should have thought this whole day through more.” What a wedding day failure.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
He shouldered his own duffel bag and pulled open the screen door. “It’s our wedding day.” Heat flooded his face. “I mean, we should be celebrating or something, not getting grass stains on our knees.”
She glanced down at her clothing. Covered in green and brown stains, and a few weed stems, she was disheveled and work-worn. To his surprise, when she lifted her chin, there was a smile on her face. “I can’t think of a more appropriate way to start this journey together.”
“You’re going to need to expound on that one.” He bumbled his way in, trying to manage his bag and the screen and wooden doors, which both seemed to want to close him between them.
She set her bag just to the right of the door and brushed off her hands as she looked around. “This will be a life of work—so working together on our ho-home is a great start.”
He didn’t miss the way she stumbled over the word home. As brave as she appeared, she was still worried, maybe scared about how this was all going to turn out. And she hadn’t touched him since the wedding. Not that he expected her to be all over him or anything, but she’d almost touched him several times and then backed off. That fact that he felt the distance between them made him wonder if he was being too sensitive. There was just something about Evie that had him aware of things he wasn’t normally. Like his heart rate. It kicked up over and over again this afternoon.
His laugh. He’d never paid much attention to it, but he’d caught himself laughing out loud several times today. Each time, he’d noticed and marveled at the pure joy that had blossomed inside of him. And it was all because of Evie.
A strong need to provide for her filled his chest. He couldn’t very well rub her shoulders or draw her a warm bath. An idea hit, and he brightened, because there was something he could do. “I’m going to order pizza. Any requests?”
“I’ll eat anything.” Her eyes grew wide and she glanced quickly away. “I mean, I’m not picky.”
He lightly touched her arm, drawing her eyes back to him. With all sincerity, he said, “I truly don’t deserve you.”
Her eyebrows came together. “Because I don’t have a pizza preference?” she asked.
He nodded. “A lifetime of not arguing over pizzas or ordering half this and half that—is a blessed life indeed.”
She broke into a grin. “You have mighty low standards for a preacher.”
He chuckled. There she went again, giving him a hard time in a way that made him feel like he was in a bubble, floating through the house.
The interior wasn’t as bad as the yard. There was fresh paint in the living room, and the wood floors, though covered in a thin coat of dust, were in good shape. He pulled out his phone and placed the order. “We’re in luck. They said they’d be here within fifteen minutes.”
She stretched her arms over her head and smiled.
“What?”
“I’ve never met a pastor who considered themselves lucky.”
He shrugged. “You never married one before either—today is all about firsts.”
They explored the house together, finding three bedrooms—one of which had been turned into a home office. There were two baths, one in the hallway and one in the master bedroom. The rooms were small but furnished, which was great, because everything he owned fit in his car.
A knock announced dinner, and they hurried the warm box back to the kitchen.
“It’s not much of a wedding banquet, I’m afraid.” He opened the lid, and the intoxicating aroma of fresh crust and marinara sauce hit them both with full force. His stomach growled.
“Stop apologizing.” She moaned and reached for a paper napkin. “If you say a long prayer over the food, I’m going to make you sleep in the garden shed.”
He bowed his head, a smile on his face, and said the blessing as fast as he dared. He contemplated adding a long list of parishioners by name just to tease her, but he had no desire to sleep with the fertilizer. She was right, though. He needed to stop apologizing. It was just that she was so wonderful, and he was so … not. The things he brought to the marriage seemed small and undeserving of her brightness.
Evie dug in, the cheese leaving strings over the side