Preacher (The Untouchables MC 5)

Lately, something was going on with him and I didn’t know what it was. He insisted on hearing all about me and my life, but when I asked about his, he was still close-lipped and quiet. He’d quickly turn to distracting me with food or sex. Sometimes at the same time, I thought, blushing at the memory of the pancakes.

Mostly sex.

I knew Preacher was happy when he was with me. He told me so. But whenever I caught sight of him at the church, he looked worried.

Especially when he didn’t know I was looking.

“Any news about Paul?”

Clarice was standing in the doorway, nearly filling it with her six-foot frame. The fact that she also loved platform shoes just added to the effect. Today, she was wearing a silver and gold lurex dress that looked like it was straight out of Studio 54.

In fact, it probably was, knowing Clarice. She had what could only be described as an ‘eBay addiction’. I was more of an Etsy girl myself. Every Christmas, I headed over there. I felt a lot better about spending money when it went to craftspeople and small businesses.

Not that I was a big spender, by any means. I pretty much wore the same stuff I had in high school, though Clarice dragged me to secondhand stores on the regular. So I had some shirts and sweaters from there.

Clarice had taught me years ago that the trick was to wash everything in Borax and vinegar. It killed mold and left everything smelling clean, not artificial.

I sighed, forcing myself to focus on her question. It was the same question I had. The same question that I was trying to distract myself from every single day since the Reverend had left.

“No, but Preacher’s friends said they have a lead. They won’t say anything else.”

“I hope he’s okay. I’m scared for him, Cynth.”

“Me too.”

She sighed and shook her head as if shaking off her worries. It was a special skill she had. One that I envied.

A feline expression came over her face. She arched a perfectly plucked brow and gave me a look. I watched in admiration as she cocked one hip and placed one exquisitely manicured hand on it.

“What’s going on with you and the big guy, hmm?”

My eyes got wide. My mouth dried up. I was definitely not ready to answer questions about Preacher.

“Who?”

“Oh puh-lease, girl. I have eyes. I can see.”

“We’re . . . um . . .”

“Fucking each other’s brains out at every possible moment?”

I turned beet red. That was pretty much what was happening. I hadn’t told her about Preacher yet. I knew that was a pretty big faux pas in best friend code.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It just . . . happened so fast. It’s a little overwhelming.”

“Oh, child, you must tell me everything,” she said, sliding into the chair opposite mine. “How is he? Isn’t he your first? Is he big?”

“Surprising, yes, and none of your business.”

She clutched her invisible pearls and feigned offense.

“You won’t tell me? Your best friend? I must know if that man is hung like a horse.”

I laughed and shook my head.

“I don’t kiss and tell.”

“Does that mean you’ve kissed it? A mouthful?”

I frowned. Actually, I hadn’t. I wanted to try, but Preacher wouldn’t let me.

“What does surprising mean?”

I sighed, grateful for the change of topic.

“He’s much gentler than I would have imagined. Thoughtful. And the way he makes me feel . . .”

“Yesss,” she purred, leaning in.

“It’s so much more than I ever imagined sex would be.”

She clapped her hands together.

“I’m so glad you finally gave in! The man was drooling over you for long enough! From day one. No, from minute one!”

Preacher chose that moment to enter the office. I tried to shush Clarice, but she was on a roll.

“You needed a real man, not like those boys you grew up with. Someone strong but kind. Someone to lift you up and get you down in the dirt. Someone” —she took a dramatic pause— “to fuck the shit out of you.”

I slid down in my chair, covering my face. I peeked between my fingers and saw Clarice notice the hulking man standing behind her. From the look on her face, I had a feeling she had known he was there all along.

Remind me to strangle you later, I said with my eyes.

“Oh, hello there, Preacher.”

He grinned at her and gave me a wink.

“Good morning, ladies. No yoga today?”

“Yoga is Wednesdays and Saturdays. Today, we have Pilates. That’s if I can tear Miss Thing away from her . . . work,” Clarice said meaningfully.

“I’m sure we can spare her for an hour.”

“Forty-five minutes,” I piped up, still looking everywhere but at him. “But I have a lot to do.”

“You should go. Enjoy yourself.”

“Um . . . okay,” I said, still not looking at him.