I raise an eyebrow.
“No?” He grins. “How about, in a moment of poor judgment, you called your sous-chef—that’s not the right word. Assistant baker?—a psycho?”
Seriously?
I let my smile slip, and he schools his features. “Still not ready to joke about it?”
“Nope. It’s only been like an hour since the last time you asked.”
He huffs. “Fine.”
We pass The Meeting House, and our easy conversation dies. Was it only last night that I met this boy on that patio?
He’s gone quiet. He’s cute. I’ll give him that. But he called me a name behind my back.
I turn my face away, pretending to study the empty sand volleyball court. Time to think about something else—anything other than the cute but annoying boy next to me.
My phone chimes in my pocket, and I pull it free, then nearly drop it when the screen displays a message from Leo. The first in a long, long time.
Leo: Can we talk?
Not exactly the distraction I had in mind. I shove it back in my pocket.
Now, I have two things to keep off my mind. Super.
CHAPTER TWELVE
MORGAN
Driving parallel to the water, we finally approach the charming church nestled in the woods between the road and the lake. Built of stylish white siding and a silver metal roof, its dark accents create a stark contrast, a beautiful blend of small-town charm and sleek modern lines.
Will rolls over the sidewalk, and I tighten my grip on the box.
We park at the front door and begin the daunting task of unloading.
Grunting under the weight, he mutters, “How do I get myself into these things?”
I shift my hands to find a better grip. “Well—you volunteered.”
“Right.”
Maneuvering the box to the front door proves difficult. I’m glad he’s here. This would’ve been impossible for one person. I’m sure he’s noticed.
“Will?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for helping.”
We lock gazes, and after a moment, he relaxes. “Sure.”
We crouch side by side and drag the box through the doorway and to the front of the sanctuary. I stand and stretch out my shoulders. “This is cute.”
“Yeah, when we’re in town on the weekends, we attend Sunday morning worship. I like the music.”
We meander around, admiring the clean lines, the stark white shiplap, and the minimalist decor. I pause by the floor-to-ceiling window stretching along the back wall and take in a breathtaking lake view.
I reach out to touch the glass but drop my hand before making contact. “At first, I wondered why Ava and Hudson decided on a church wedding when there are so many great outdoor spaces, but this is beautiful.”
