I sighed into him, my hands curling against the front of his shirt—not dragging him closer, just holding on. His hand slid from the back of my neck to cradle my jaw, thumb brushing the corner of my mouth as he pulled away.
“Slow enough?” he asked.
“Maybe too slow…but we’ll figure it out,” I laughed softly.
Silas didn’t step away, letting his hands fall to my waist. “We’ll tell the sheriff,” he said. “And I’ll swing by Mabel’s this afternoon.”
I smiled, still a little dazed from the kiss. “She’s gonna love this.”
His fingers brushed over the curve of my hip, and his voice dipped again. “You good to work?”
“Depends,” I said, a little breathless. “You planning to kiss me like that every ten minutes?”
He didn’t smile—instead, he treated it with the utmost seriousness as he brushed his nose against mine. “Only if you let me.”
I was very inclined to let him, but I just smiled and stepped back, making a beeline for the pile of supplies stacked along one of the pews.
“I’ll grab the paint brushes,” I called over my shoulder. “You patch drywall. We’ll sanctify the place later.”
Silas chuckled. “If that means what I think it means…deal.”
CHAPTER 14
Silas
Loretta Evers’sdining room smelled like ambrosia.
I stood in the kitchen and scooped another helping of the fruit salad onto my plate, listening as June chatted with the group we had started officially referring to as “the church ladies.” They’d invited us over for brunch—and of course, with Loretta Evers, that meant bread pudding, coffee, and a bowl of ambrosia so full of marshmallows it looked like it had been touched by God.
Loretta’s house was cool and tidy, featuring old pieces of furniture kept immaculately clean and tastefully decorated with family photos. The center of the kitchen held a green and gold formica table that probably could have fetched a small fortune from some Savannah hipsters, a bouquet of fresh zinnias at its center.
The kitchen was just where the food was served, though—the ladies were talking in “the parlor,” which Loretta had announced with a great deal of pride…as if we were at some fancy party or something.
I felt entirely out of place.
June, though? She took to it with the same kind of grace she brought everywhere she went.
She was currently regaling the ladies with the story of her snakebite, especially since word had gotten around about me frantically carrying a half-naked woman into the clinic in Perry. At first, June had thought she might have to do damage control; church people, after all, weren’t often big fans of making a fuss where the reverend was involved. But this was Willow Grove, and these ladies were absolutely intrigued.
…even if they wanted more details than I necessarily would have given them.
“Oh honey,” Francine was saying, propping her chin in one hand, “I would’ve let that man carry me anywhere.”
June’s mouth twitched. “I was unconscious at the time, Miss Farber.”
Francine waved that off. “Still.”
Birdie made a little tutting sound, but she was grinning into her coffee. “She’s lucky she didn’t die, Franny.”
“And yet she didn’t,” Francine shot back. “So I got to enjoy the romance of the moment without the tragedy, thank you very much.”
Loretta, seated in a high-backed chair with her ankles crossed and a strand of pearls around her neck, gave June a once-over. “And how are you now, baby?”
June smiled. “Healing. Inside and out.”
That seemed to satisfy her.
I hovered in the doorway, plate in hand, unsure if I should sit or stand. I wasn’t even entirely sure why I was here; June was the one planning all this stuff, and the ladies wanted to see her. But they’d invited me, so I came…and now I was wondering if they just intended on ogling me.
