“I will ask a goddamn question, Billy,” I said, getting up from the ground. “I will go up there, tohim,and ask him why he’s not looking atme.”
Billy grinned. “That’s a bad idea, doll.”
“Yes. But it’smyidea.”
“No argument there.”
I was halfway across the field before I remembered I was still holding my plastic cup. Too late to turn back now. My feet moved with surprising steadiness despite the rum, carrying me toward Judah and the circle of men around him. They were all older, established men with weathered faces and expensive watches. The kind who held the town's purse strings.
The conversation died as I approached, five pairs of eyes turning to assess me. Only Judah's stayed fixed on whoever was speaking, as if he hadn't noticed my approach.
But I knew he had.
“Excuse me, gentlemen,” I said, the rum making me bolder than I had any right to be. “I need to borrow Pastor Beaumont for just a moment.”
An older man with silver hair and a navy blazer — Hargrove Whitfield, I realized — thesameone who’d given me thecherry— gave me a slow smile that made my skin crawl. “Of course, my dear. We were just finishing up.”
Judah finally looked at me then, his expression unreadable. “Is something the matter?” he asked. He put a hand on the small of my back — a possessive, heavy weight — and guided me away before I could tell Hargrove what I thought of his smile.
“Why are you not looking at me?” I asked him, hands on my hips.
His eyes darkened, scanning my face before glancing over my shoulder at Billy, who remained sprawled on the grass watching us.
Billy saluted him.
“What has he been feeding you? What’s in that?” he took the cup from me and brought it to his nose and grimaced. “Jesus. Christ.”
“Pastor!” I gasped, feigning a shock I didn't feel. I snatched the cup back. “Blasphemy! In front of the help!”
He didn't find it funny. He steered me toward a massive oak, the Spanish moss hanging down like rotting lace. The air was thick here, smelling of damp earth and the cedarwood scent that always seemed to cling to him.
“I’m about to do a lot more than blaspheme if you don’t start behaving,” he said, his voice dropping into a low, vibrating register that made my blood hum.
I took that as a challenge.
“Prove it,” I said, taking a slow sip while looking him dead in the eye. “Let’s walk, Preacher.”
I led him toward the water. The bayou was a sheet of black ink against the darkening sky. Judah's hand was warm in mine, his pace measured as he allowed me to lead him away from the watchful eyes of St. Francisville's finest.
“You're drunk,” he observed, not unkindly.
“Mhm.” I didn’t even deny it, took another mouthful. “You should try it sometime. Would work wonders on that awful attitude.”
His laugh was unexpected — low and genuine, with none of the calculated control I'd grown used to. “You think I have an awful attitude?”
I stopped walking, turning to face him at the water's edge. The bayou stretched dark and endless behind him, cicadas singing their evening chorus. “Ithink you want to kiss me. And you won’t.That’san awful attitude,Preacher.”
He lifted his eyes, but the smile didn’t vanish. He was looking somewhere beyond and seeing nothing.
I didn’t know how we got to it, but at one point, I was pressed against the big oak tree, and Judah’s hand was running up my leg, pushing the dress along. His fingers traced a path of fire along my thigh, and I bit my lower lip to keep from making a sound that would carry back to the gathering. The rum had dissolved my inhibitions, but some small part of me still remembered where we were — who he was to this town.
“Take me home,” I whispered when his mouth found my neck. “Yourhome…”
His teeth grazed my skin, sending shivers down my spine. “You don't know what you're asking for,” he murmured, his voice rough with restraint.
“I do,” I insisted, emboldened by the rum and the darkness. The Spanish moss swayed above us like silent witnesses.
Judah's hand stilled on my thigh, and he pulled back just enough to look at me, his eyes searching mine. In them, I saw conflict — desire warring with something darker, more complex.
