Preacher (The Untouchables MC 5)

Oh, no . . . this couldn’t be . . .

Please, Lord, tell me this isn’t Preacher.

The man caught my gaze ad held it. I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. His eyes were blue. No, they were . . . blue-gray. I got lost in those eyes. They shone brightly against his tanned skin. Then he smiled, and I almost stepped off the pathway to land in the bushes.

That smile wasn’t particularly friendly. It was something else entirely.

It was a smile that said ‘I like what I see.’ I groaned inwardly. I had learned my lesson the hard way in high school. I’d fallen for a bad boy. Nearly lost my virginity to him. But he’d been a player. I’d only found out at the last possible minute that he’d been tired of waiting for me to sleep with him. So he’d slept with my best friend instead.

I still cringed when I thought about it all these years later.

I’d sworn off men after that. Especially bad boys. Of any age.

Kids were dancing wildly, moving through the routine we’d worked on, shouting out to the Reverend and fitting his name into the lyrics. Through it all, Preacher kept his eyes on me. I couldn’t have looked away if I tried. Marcus did a back handspring, and finally, the spell was broken as his body twisted in the air to do a layup in the air between us.

I exhaled, stepping to the side so I wasn’t facing the man. My heart was thudding as if I were the one doing back handsprings! But I pinned on my best, most serene, most ‘I know what I am doing’ smile. Every social worker worth her salt had a smile like that. I wasn’t officially licensed yet, but I was getting really close.

I would get my degree and I would help turn the community around.

There were good people here. Too many to abandon. I had to stay and fight for them.

I applauded with everyone from church who had gathered to watch the performance in the courtyard. I smiled tightly, relaxing my face when Abigail came up to give me a hug. Her braids swung as she did an impromptu spin and struck a pose for me. I laughed, offering her a high-five.

I felt eyes on me and looked up. But if the new Reverend had been staring, he wasn’t now. He was talking with Paul and Marcus. I noticed a few of the shyer kids were standing there, waiting for him to notice them. He did, and I sighed in relief. My kids were fragile. They came here for the attention they rarely got at school. Or at home, either, for the most part.

The kids weren’t intimidated by him, clearly. So why was I?

“Preacher is daddy AF,” a gravelly voice said from beside me. I shushed Clarice. Her painted eyebrows shot up but her eyes were twinkling. “What? He is.”

“You are terrible.”

She tossed her hair and winked at me.

“But you love me, anyway.”

“I do,” I said with a sigh. I felt eyes on me again and looked up. This time, he was looking at me. I felt it in my gut, like an electric shock. It was weird because when you were standing next to the six-foot three-inch Clarice, who was always dressed to the nines, nobody really looked at anyone else.

Patty clapped her hands and told the kids it was time for youth choir and then lunch. I waved them off, accepting hugs as they went. I wondered if any of them realized they might never see Reverend Paul again. My eyes filled up for the hundredth time at the thought.

Not everyone on staff knew how serious his cancer was. But the more sensitive people around the neighborhood definitely picked it up. He had grown frailer over the past few months. The kids noticed. I knew they did.

Reverend Paul hadn’t formally introduced his replacement to the staff, paid or volunteer. Temporary replacement, I reminded myself. I stepped closer when the reverend waved me over.

“Cynthia! I’m about to introduce John to the staff. I’d like you to be the first.”

I nodded and forced myself to face the dominant male towering above me. The man sucked all the air out of the courtyard. He filled every atom. He attracted every ray of light. He had his own gravity, for goodness’ sake.

The trouble was, I was pretty sure he was more of a black hole than a star.

I looked up at his face to find him intently watching me. His eyes crinkled as if he was smiling. But he wasn’t smiling. He was just taking me in.

I looked down and realized he was holding out his hand. His giant, big, tan, callused-looking hand. I reached forward without thinking and felt my hand enveloped in his. A shock ran through me, and I stared at him for a moment, belatedly pulling my hand away. It tingled for a full minute afterward.