Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 69860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
“Lots of people. No family, though.”
“No boyfriend?”
I stiffened up. Boyfriends were forbidden territory. I’d avoided having one since the last, and only, disastrous one. I never told anyone about how I’d almost lost myself to a two-timing Casanova. Not even Clarice.
There was a reason I hadn’t dated since my seventeenth birthday.
“No,” I said tightly. “I’m single.”
“That’s a shame,” he said, but he was smiling like he was glad to hear that I was single.
Oh, God, I groaned inwardly. This is definitely a date.
But part of me wasn’t that upset about it. Part of me was . . . curious to see what he had in mind. He was an older man. Much, much older. Preacher was unlike anyone I’d ever known.
My cheeks warmed up as we were served our food. I hadn’t been on a date . . . well, ever, really. Usually, I avoided men who expressed interest in me. Ever since Zach. He was the local hot shot, a star athlete and on his way to the NBA now, from what I heard. None of that mattered. What mattered was that I had loved him, really loved him, and he’d been messing around with my best friend.
Ex-best friend.
Both of them had begged for forgiveness. I still got a text once in a while from her. He was fond of getting drunk and trying to get me back with grand gestures and late-night phone calls.
Yes, all these years later.
They had both left the neighborhood far behind and me with it.
But I couldn’t avoid Preacher. I couldn’t hide the fact that he drew me in as much as he made me want to smack him. I would just hold him at arm’s length, I decided. There was no way I was going to get into a thing with some guy who planned on being out of here in a couple of weeks, anyway. Especially one who looked like he could tear a wild animal apart with his bare hands.
I had a feeling that when Preacher went into the forest, the animals were afraid of him.
I shivered, but it wasn’t because I was cold.
He smiled at me and took a massive bite of his steak. A carnivore through and through. I felt another shiver go through me at the way he looked at me.
This time, it definitely wasn’t because I was cold.
I took a bite of my quiche and stabbed a few pieces of arugula before dabbing into the sauce to make it interesting. I had a thing about getting a perfectly balanced taste of everything on the fork for each bite.
“You try and get it all,” Preacher observed.
“And you just go for what you want,” I threw back.
He smiled slowly, his gaze traveling over my face to rest on my lips.
“Not always.”
I gasped at the implication. He wasn’t even hiding it now. Preacher wanted me.
And God help me, I was excited by it.
You are a dumbass, Cynthia. Bad boys don’t play nice. And Preacher is the definition of a bad boy.
A bad man, I corrected myself. Although truthfully, from what I knew of Preacher so far, he wasn’t bad. He wasn’t exactly good, either. He was . . . interesting. He paid attention to the people around him. He seemed to care about them, too. And he was doing his best to play by the rules I had set him. I watched him finish his wine and shake off the offer of another glass. I knew if I weren’t here, he would be cozied up to the whole bottle, or maybe even just drinking straight liquor. He was doing that for me, I was sure. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.
Bad. Very bad. Do not even think about it, Cynthia.
But I was. I was thinking about it. A delicious warmth was spreading through my body.
It was hard to believe, but I was crushing on Preacher.
Chapter Eleven
Preacher
“No dessert?”
Cynthia shook her head softly, patting her lips with her napkin. She was such a proper little lady. It made me want to defile her even more. Gently, of course. At least at first.
I wanted to do filthy, dirty things to her. Things that would make her whole body blush.
I smiled and took the check before it even hit the table. I slid a hundred and the bill into the waiter’s hand.
“You ready?”
Cynthia nodded, her eyes wide. Maybe she thought all dirtbag backroad ministers were poor. I was not. And I would be damned if I wouldn’t spoil a pretty lady if she let me. This pretty lady. Only her.
I’d never wanted to wine and dine a woman before. Beer and tacos, sure, but only because I was hungry at the time. But this was different. I wanted to watch Cynthia eat every damn day. Three times. Maybe more.