“Wouldn’t it though?” I smile. “Anyways, Paul, I do have to go prepare for tomorrow’s sermon.”
“Of course! Of course!” he gushes again. He reaches out and firmly shakes my hand. “And thank you, Gabriel. Bless you.”
“And to you as… you too,” I mumble through a smile. He turns to leave, when he suddenly stops and turns back.
“Oh, Gabriel, did my sister speak to you?”
I freeze. “Uh, what?”
“Delilah. She was all out of sorts this morning, and—”
Fuck. Fuck-fuck-fuck. I glance back to the Winnebago and wonder just how fast I can get it cranking enough to flee this fucking town before the pitchforks and torches appear over the horizon looking to string me up for putting my hands on Delilah Somerset.
“Well, she seemed like her soul was conflicted, and I think she was looking for you to help set her straight.”
I frown. Well this is interesting.
“I haven’t seen her, Paul.”
“Oh, well, maybe she’ll be by later.” He smiles. “And thanks again, preacher.”
He turns, and I watch him follow the rest of the morning’s crowd back across the field to the parked cars.
…I think I need a drink.
I start to turn, when suddenly, there’s a finger tapping my shoulder. I jump and whip around and come face to face with her.
“I need to talk to you.”
I blink, and I glance behind me, half expecting Jedediah to be standing there with a shotgun leveled at me.
“I’m alone.”
I smile wryly and turn back look at her.
Shit.
I told myself a thousand times last night that what happened was a mistake. I told myself to get my shit together, and to resist whatever witchcraft temptation that Delilah casts on me, whether she knows it or not. And I think I even had myself mostly convinced, until I turn around and drink in the sight of the blonde-haired angel in the floral sundress that clings to every damn sweet curve.
I growl lowly.
“What can I do for you, Delilah?”
Her lips curl at the corners. “No salaciously crude language or quip? No filthiness to try and trip me up?”
I grin. “You’ve caught me unprepared. If you give me a minute or two, maybe I can take my pants off or something.”
She giggles but quickly stifles it as her face reddens.
“I’ve…” she glances around. “Can we talk in private?”
I frown and look around at the entirely empty field.
“Maybe in there?” She nods at the tent, and I shrug.
“Sure.”
Delilah turns on a sandaled heel and walks over through the tent-flap, and I’m right behind her with my eyes glued to that tight little ass under the floral sundress. God help me. She walks all the way down the aisle and around the little stage to where my baptism tub-slash-hot-tub is, which is also almost a little office area for me.