Dream Keeper (Dream Team 4)

Not that Axl was shitting all over her, but he was being hella bossy, and I wasn’t sure Hatz would be down with that.

I mean, sure, the women were going gung-ho with this on my behalf (and because Lottie wanted in on some action). And yes, that was unnecessary at this juncture (even if they didn’t know that, I hadn’t updated them about my new take on the situation).

But like I’d said to Auggie, they weren’t in any real danger.

So I wasn’t sure hella bossy was the way for these boys to play it.

“And since Hattie’s their ride, Ryn and Lottie best be following her,” Boone decreed.

Hmm.

I kept my lips pressed together, because even if Ryn was of a certain sexual bent (and Boone was of the opposite bent, but the two so totally fit together), she one hundred percent was not a woman who liked a man bossing her (in that way, ahem).

Aug gave them a nod, hit the accelerator and slid his window up.

“You do know that we’re going to need to finesse that because the girls aren’t going to be big fans of the guys being bossy and overprotective,” I muttered.

“What I know is that any situation is entirely unknown, and you go into it that way. You can think you have all the intel you’ll need. You can think you planned your operation down to the minutest detail. And you can always be taken by surprise and your shit will be in a sling you’re unprepared to get it out of. That’s what I know. And that’s what those men know. So, baby, I’m warning you. They fucked up, nosing into this. So I’m not finessing shit.”

And there was a reminder we had not yet gotten into his job.

Now was not that time.

Now was the time for me to mumble, “All righty then.”

“Not to make this any more difficult,” Aug continued. “People believe the same thing for different reasons. But have you considered the fact that, since she was young, someone has been Patty Hearsting your sister?”

Shit.

It was beginning to get low-key annoying that he seemed to have it totally together and knew practically everything.

Low-key annoying as well as ridiculously appealing.

Whiplash.

I decided my best response was, “Ummm…”

“So…yeah,” he finished.

Yeah.

We parked in the big church parking lot, which was pretty full.

So yeah again, Auggie’s intel was correct.

They had way more members than they used to.

We got out, and even if I was in high heels, we hoofed it quickly to the front doors.

We did this holding hands.

Aug was a hand-holder.

Totally old-fashioned.

This time, I didn’t mention it.

This time, I stayed silent as Auggie pushed open the doors and went in first, still holding my hand, and I followed him.

We got out of the crisp but sunny November day and our eyes adjusted to the vestibule of the sanctuary, which was spacious, but my father had not lied.

High-wearing, utilitarian, commercial carpeting in dark gray covered the floor. All around, bare walls painted midnight blue. Very narrow windows that let in the light, but not a sliver of stained glass to be seen. There were some cheap-looking standing lamps to chase the shadows from the corners. And on the middle wall that separated the two sets of now-closed double doors that obviously led into the sanctuary, there was a not-so-great, but kinda large artist’s rendition of that very church.

Other than a few uninviting wooden benches sitting at some walls, that was it.

Definitely none of the ostentation of some of the bigger churches that had television or social media followings. Or, frankly, any of the loyally collected and scrupulously cared for décor of any other church I’d been to.

It was bare bones.

Aug didn’t linger to check it out.

He led me to one of the sets of double doors and then he led me right through.

Whoa.

It was huge.

And obviously some people were carpooling.

There had to be several hundred people in there.

Doing a visual sweep, I noted another surprise.

It was mostly men.

Now, how did these men think they were going to get themselves multiple wives if their fellow parishioners were also dudes?

Reverend Clyde, with his narrow shoulders covered in white robes and his high, greasy, signature pompadour that was silver-threaded-through-black up top, full silver at the sides (totes vampiric), was pontificating from an equally bare-bones pulpit at the front. And the room was so huge, only those closest to us turned and looked, probably because the ones beyond hadn’t noted our entry.

Auggie ignored them.

I gave them an I’m sorry we disturbed look, because it was a loopy church, but it was still a church.

Aug was scanning, no doubt for Lottie’s distinctive head of big blonde hair.

I was scanning for something else.

He found what he was looking for first, and out we went through the doors we’d walked in, across the front of the painting, and in the next set of doors.