Bad preacher

brother in Christ, bro

he blurts. He’s just told me his name seconds ago.

ghteous soul, Sam is. Truly, a man of God and Christ, and a man who’s place is saved with a gold ribbon in His Kingdom.” My smile widens and I tighten my gra

shakes my hand fervently

er Gabriel,” he bl

r this shit. This is method acting lik

andmother who insists on bringing her little yappy dog in, too. The motley thing almost takes my fucking hand off befo

dunked in the tank until I’m pretty much done with them all. It’s a blur, and I’m starting to wonder if this is a dry town

world stills, m

,” or whatever the hell it is they want to tell me. I’ve remembered practically none of it and believe less than even that. But right

mers in these big, wide, innocent blue eyes. The gentle summer breeze rustles her modest white sundress and blows a loc

ver her. She looks so fucking innocent, and so pure, and so good in t

nt to put my hands on every fucking inch of that pure, innoc

n one hand, organ hymns playing over a shitty speaker, and a crowd of th

p myself. If this were a sermon of mine, I’d s

n me right now. I take one look at this angel, and I want to claim her. I want to shred the pretty littl

uth of Heaven moving my hand, if yo

I grin as I watch her

ere,” I

more step and I swear to whatever you hold ho

en, sh

help

li

ith a smile and shakes her head as she pulls the cri

I’m not going

n’t wear—” she blushes a little and lowers her voice. “You can’t wear red to a baptism, Delilah,” she whispers hoarsely, like even mentionin

white dress

Pure, clea

e-through whe

y from me, and she looks absolutely scandalized. Lordy, I feel sca

She looks at me sternly. “Watch yourself, child,” she

ress will be completely see-through once a st

alized myself. “I just mean… you kn

s. “A man of God. A shepherd, come

Paul, my older brother,

g is a sin, P

minding mama that once my church is up, we’ll have no

n-ward. Her lips move a little, and I smile. Mama’s piousness might be a lit

he Lord’s word for a might longer, and if you don’t get going, you’re go

“Okay,

ready!” She pokes her head out of my

d to bring Mayer Pearson some cof

es in, grinning. “That’s right!” he beams. “That

aan, and even a year or two living the city life in Savannah—a place both mama and papa agree is a wicked, wicked place. But now with a year of divinity school

s from the kitchen w

from my room. “You darn well better not

re, and mama can too. She sighs with a smile and turns t

y, o

too, dear?

supper,” she laments. “But if

Delilah!” he bello

eaving in two mi