“I thought I killed you there for a second.” A lock of her hair dropped from her updo and curled over her eye.
“You didn’t kill me.” Jesse walked over and sat beside her, then slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her to him. “I was thinking how cool it would be to crawl inside your head and see what you see.”
“You’d be terrified, trust me.” She shivered, unable to keep her attention fixed on his face. But a warmth emanated from him, and she ached to press her head against his chest.
“Where did you get this vision of marriage?”
She tapped her heart. “Right here.”
“Then I hope it happens for you,” he said. “Not that this has anything to do with love and marriage, but you’re very beautiful, Chloe. Even more, you’re sweet and thoughtful, passionate. A lover’s lover.”
“A lover’s lover?”
“Yeah, the kind every hungry heart is searching for.” Jesse leaned into her, his gaze roaming her face. She ached for his kiss. But he pulled away. “I-I should get you home.”
She stood and started inside, but Jesse caught her by her arm.
When she turned, he met her with a kiss. Soft and sweet, with the slightest measure of affection. Then he inhaled and gripped her against him, and Chloe lost herself in the sensation of his lips searching hers without greed or want. Just...
Love. Yes, hello love. That’s precisely how it felt.
8
HAMILTON
We can’t find him, Hamilton. He may still be inside.”
He charged though the church door down the main aisle, the steaming smoke burning his nose and eyes. Ashes twisted up from the floor, and the heat seeped through the soles of his boots.
“Uncle Laurence! Uncle!” He ripped his shirt from his back, wrapping the tail about his face. “Uncle!”
Overhead, the roof continued to burn and the church moaned under the burden, the wooden beams cracking with the heat and showering Hamilton with glowing embers.
“Hamilton, get out of here.” Mr. Holliman of the general store clapped a firm, broad hand on his shoulder. “She’s going to collapse.”
“But Uncle Laurence...” Smoke burned his eyes as the flames roared, mocking his desperation. A beam over the pulpit split and dropped with a resounding crash. “They said he was in the sanctuary.”
When he arrived, Aunt Mary was waiting outside among their friends, weeping, calling to her husband.
“Yes... but the flames are too much, Hamilton. Do you want your aunt to bury both of her men? It would break her heart.”
“She’ll thank me not to leave her husband to burn in the rubble.” Hamilton pulled free, squinting, fighting to breathe.
The sanctuary was simple. Long and narrow with no side rooms. Uncle Laurence should not be difficult to find.
Cowering as another beam cracked and swung down from the roof, Hamilton pressed forward.Uncle, where are you?
“Hamilton! Come out this minute.”
One final scan and he resigned himself to retreat, then saw a foot protruding from the left side of the altar.
“He’s here, he’s here.” Hamilton rounded a burning pew and reached down for his uncle’s leg. Pressing his shirt against his face, he tried to inhale enough to drag the large man down the side aisle without another breath, but he filled his lungs with smoke.
“Help me!”
Mr. Holliman met him with a kerchief around his face, his store clerk following. As the first beam exploded and the front corner of the church collapsed, Hamilton, Mr. Holliman, and his clerk dragged Uncle Laurence from the church.
Hamilton dropped his shirt to the ground and gasped for air. Soot tainted his skin. His trousers smoldered where tiny embers had burned through the broadcloth.
