One of her brows jerked up. “Who could that be?” The only person she knew in Wilder was already at her house.
When she glanced over at Jack, he was scowling. He went for his jeans as she finger-combed her hair in hopes of making it a little less yes, I was just fucked by the hottest man to walk the face of the earth and have the sex-hair to prove it.
She set her phone on the counter and crossed to the living room, pulling the door open. Standing on her porch was a lanky man, about forty, with neatly trimmed, sandy brown hair and blue-gray eyes. He wore brown slacks and a pale yellow dress shirt that was buttoned all the way up to his very prominent Adam’s apple. He didn’t wear a tie, but the extreme buttoned-up look—especially in this heat—made him appear stiff and uncomfortable.
In his left hand, he held a bible. His right hand extended to Liza as a friendly smile touched his thin lips. “I’m Reverend Jonathan Bain. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Brooks.”
“Oh hi, Reverend,” she stammered, perplexed by his appearance at her new rental. Not to mention a bit off-kilter at having a man of the cloth arrive shortly after her rather promiscuous interlude with Jack. “Nice to meet you too,” she said as she composed herself and slipped her hand in his. She added, “And it’s just Liza.”
“Of course.” He raised the good book a few inches in her general direction. “I just wanted to welcome you to Wilder and invite you to worship with us tomorrow morning. Nine o’clock.”
Liza pulled her hand from his and crossed her arms over her chest, fighting the frown that threatened her lips. Polite as the reverend was, her mother was a devout Catholic. She’d dragged Liza to church every Sunday morning and every Wednesday night for “spiritual cleansing” as a child and as a teenager. Back then, Liza had shared some doozies with Father Joseph during confession. The way Reverend Bain looked at her now made her think he was already anticipating hearing a lengthy list of sins.
No way, José.
Liza wasn’t about to air her dirty laundry. Not in a town this small. And not when all of her most recent sins starred the very sinful Jack Wade.
“I appreciate the invitation, Reverend. I’ll keep it in mind for the fu—”
“Well, hello, Jack.” The reverend’s gaze shifted away from her.
Liza didn’t have to turn around to know the Devil was standing behind her.
How ironic. She stifled a grin.
“Reverend,” Jack said as he moved to the doorframe and placed a hand at the small of Liza’s back.
Interesting move.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Bain said.
Jack’s tone was cool and reserved when he spoke. “It is my place,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Liza’s my new tenant. There were some things here at the cottage that needed my…attention.”
It could’ve been her imagination, but she was sure she’d heard a suggestive hint in his tone. Liza bit the inside of her lip to keep the smile at bay.
Okay, so it didn’t take Sherlock and Watson to deduce what they’d just been up to. She was sure the afterglow was still…glowing. But she could also sense a peculiar vibe coming from Jack. Protectiveness mixed with a weird brooding over the interruption. No doubt the good reverend caught wind of his tension.
“Something you needed in particular, Reverend?” Jack asked. “You were out this way rather late last night.”
Thus the mystery of whom they’d passed on the desolate road was instantly solved. Still, she recalled Jack’s c
onsternation over the late-night visitor and she swore the air turned even more oppressive as the two men stared each other down.
Several very intense moments passed. Until the reverend spoke. Ignoring Jack’s comment, he changed the subject by saying, “I heard you’re putting in your bid for a seat on the City Council.”
“Word spreads like wildfire in this town,” Jack replied. Liza had the distinct feeling he was saying that out loud for her benefit.
“Well, of course I wish you the best of luck. You being family and all.”
Liza’s brows shot up, but whether her piqued curiosity stemmed from learning Jack and the reverend were related or that Jack was running for City Council or the fact that Bain’s tone held a hint of “how dare you?” to it, Liza didn’t know. Perhaps all three things had her even more interested in this peculiar exchange.
“Just want to do what’s right by the town,” Jack said. “If that’s all you wanted to say…” He inclined his head toward the walkway. Liza didn’t miss his curt tone. The finality in his voice. The move along, Mister, nothing to see here inference.
If she wasn’t mistaken, Jack’s fingers pressed a little harder into her back muscles, as if he was about to curl his fist around her tank top and yank her back if she dared to step into the Golden Light.
Something she had no intention of doing.
“Well, then,” the reverend said. He took a step backward, as though he felt Jack’s rebuff physically. But he didn’t turn to go. His gaze dropped to her as he said, “Sunday at nine, Liza. Or anytime you’d like to stop by. My door’s always open.”