With my heart beating hard enough to break my ribcage, I answer, my voice cracking.
“Hey, Jack.” I clear my throat. “How are you?”
“What the fuck is this about you and that asshat?”
His voice hits me hard.
“You, uh, saw the picture?” I ask.
“Morgan, that guy is dangerous,” he says sharply, ignoring my question.
“I know. I’m not dating him.”
“Do you want a medal? How stupid can you be? Don’t let that fucker near you.”
His voice is deep and rough. I sit at the front pew, feeling like a child being scolded.
“Jesus offers forgiveness to all who repent. Gabe repented. I should do the same.”
Jack groans loudly, disgusted. “Where was Jesus when that guy was about to fuck you?”
I pull the phone from my ear and stare at the screen.
This is hard enough, and he’s making it worse.
“I have to go,” I snap, and although it is painful, I hang up.
He calls back immediately, which surprises me, but I block him. I have to. I need to cleanse myself of temptation. I was attacked by Gabe because I crossed lines with him first. I betrayed my convictions and paid a price.
A virtuous path is not easy, but it leads to happiness greater than a passing pleasure.
Jack is a passing pleasure.
I repeat it.
Again and again.
Friday, I have another book signing two cities over. It’s the last one for a couple of weeks. Highway miles blur together.
Once again, the crowd is a good size but lacks my target demographic. It’s possible my marketing is off. I should tell Ingrid, but don’t want to hurt her feelings.
I sign and chat at a steady pace. I am getting better at this.
Just then, my book is dropped on the table with a hard thud, causing it to rattle.
“Three-hour drive, thirty bucks, and an hour wait to see Morgan Leigh Montgomery.”
My stomach drops. I know that voice.
Jack.
I look from under my brow. My eyes drag up his towering frame. His sculpted jaw is locked tight, and those deep blue eyes stare down at me with paralyzing intensity.
My heart?
It exploded and I’m about to pass out.
“Ya gonna sign my book, church girl?”
