“About what?”
I swallowed. “That we’re…friends. I could use a friend right now.”
“You could use more than that.”
Probably, but for now, I needed to know I had someone in my corner, even if he didn’t know why we hid there.
My life was about to change, dramatically, overwhelmingly, and so was his. I’d protect both of us for a little while longer. Once the wedding was done and I neared my second trimester, I’d reveal the truth.
Until then? I had to guard myself from his advances.
I was already in over my head. I didn’t want to be over my heels too.
Chapter Four – Nate
Why was I doing this?
I parked outside Mandy’s house and waited for my semi-hard mistake to pump some blood back into my brain.
Christ, I was like a teenager again. Whenever I thought of Mandy, every synapse in my head fired directly for my crotch.
And for what? Mandy didn’t understand that she was the only woman who ever made me want more. My cock had a mind of its own, and somehow it convinced the rest of me that it was a good idea to pursue her.
Mandy flipped between hot and cold, but even at her craziest, she never turned frigid. She refused to admit it, but every word she had spoken to me was layered with desire. She might have thought our night together was wrong or just this once, but I knew the instant I took her, everything had changed.
That revelation should have scared the piss out of me, but it only got me harder. Convenience and persistence brought us together that first time, but I’d take her again.
It didn’t make sense to walk away from something so…amazing.
Shadows walked the path to Mandy’s house. I recognized his limp.
I hoped Dad didn’t visit the Prescotts because he saw me parked in the driveway. He stopped before the steps to their front porch and waited for me.
I swore. He didn’t flinch when I slammed my car door shut.
“Nathan.”
My father clutched his favorite bible. The dark leather wore down under his fingers, leaving lighter, tan streaks against the book. That didn’t make him a martyr, and the black clothes didn’t make him any holier.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Dad said.
“You either, Pastor.”
“The Prescotts invited me to their home to help…mediate.”
Mediate?
I glanced over my shoulder. The SUV. Right. I was so used to seeing Conrad’s vehicle in the driveway that I forgot it no longer belonged.
“A shame about their separation,” my father said. “But perhaps with my intervention, they might see their daughter’s joy with her upcoming marriage and remember their own happiness.”
“Or maybe you shouldn’t get involved?”
His hair had greyed, but he didn’t act like it. He shoved his barrel chest into everyone’s business. “I go where I’m needed. These people are in pain.”
He was so full of shit I didn’t want to stand downwind of him. The Prescotts didn’t need a minister; they should have called an exorcist. They fought viciously and loudly, and when I was growing up I usually heard them from my house down the street. No one could repair what they’d fucked up, least of all my father.
Or my mother.
She hurried across the sidewalk, dressed in a new suit and skirt. Pressed to perfection, as always. Her hair piled high on her head, and she clutched some brand name purse I didn’t recognize. Doubted Dad did either, but as long as the price tag matched the image he wanted to project, it wouldn’t matter. Our family wouldn’t squeeze through the eye of a needle, but at least we’d look respectable.
She nearly stumbled in her heels as she hurried to my father.
“Your ankle still bad?” I asked.
Mom’s eyes widened as she saw me, but she smiled and kissed my cheek.
“You shouldn’t be in heels,” I said.
“Oh, it’s healing. Just a little tight sometimes.” Mom didn’t look at Dad. “I was in too much of a hurry leaving the house.”
“I told you to be ready for eight,” Dad said.
Mom apologized, her natural state. “I couldn’t find my necklace, and I wanted to make sure I looked perfect.”
“No one is perfect,” Dad said. “Only the good Lord.”
And him. He wouldn’t say it, but Dad thought he was as good as Jesus H. Christ, and damn anyone who said otherwise, including Mom.
It wouldn’t have killed him to give her a nice compliment once in a while.
“What are you doing here, son?” Dad’s stare was about as welcoming as a punch to my cheek. “I doubt you’re offering the Prescotts counsel.”
“I’m not convinced you are either.”
“Nathan.” Mom’s warning came with a smile. “You know your father cares very deeply for his parishioners.”
He cared more about being the man others confided in during times of crisis.
Dad raised his chin. “There’s still time, son. The good Lord calls…but he doesn’t hang up.”
“You couldn’t get me within ten miles of a seminary school.”
“No matter how much you needed it.”
They wouldn’t have taken me anyway. Minsters weren’t supposed to sleep around as much as I did, and it wasn’t acceptable for them to drink as much as I liked. And I refused to end up like a carbon copy of my family. My parents worked to create the ideal marriage, meaning I was supposed to go to seminary, find a parish, marry some virgin, then start knocking her up like a brood mare to create a family of suburbanite perfection.
No thanks.
Dad didn’t hide his disappointment. “I know why he’s here. Nathan is after the Prescott girl.”
Jesus, she had a name. He didn’t always have to sound so damned sanctimonious, especially when we were neighbors with the Prescott girl.
“I’m a groomsman in the wedding,” I said. “I got things to go over with the Maid of Honor.”
“You leave that girl alone.”
“I’m not doing anything to that girl.” At least, not yet.
“Amanda Prescott deserves a nice man.”
“Who says I’m not nice?” I shrugged. “And who says I’m even after Mandy?”
“Oh good.” Mom patted a flat hand over her heart. “I was worried.”
I frowned. “About…?”
“Well, the Prescotts are…and you’re…”
Were they serious? Somehow time warped me into a conversation better suited for 1962.
“That’s great,” I said. “Who would Jesus date, right?”
My mom protested, but I ignored her, taking the steps to the house two at a time. I hated that it looked like we planned to come together. I’d been out of the family and away from my dad’s expectations since I was eighteen. Five minutes in his presence and I was outraged again.
I knocked. Mom licked her thumb and tried to rub an invisible smudge of dirt off my cheek.
Fantastic.
Mandy opened the door, her mouth dropping open as she looked from me to my parents. I gave a little shrug. It confused me too. She didn’t care.
“Pastor Kensington, Kathy, thank you so much for coming.” Mandy nearly leapt into my father’s arms. He offered a hand to shake, but she used it to haul him inside. “I hoped we wouldn’t need you to intervene, but…”
“I understand,” Dad said. “Some families require a little spiritual intervention to focus on what’s important. I’m here to give advice and guidance during this time.”
Mandy nodded. “Yeah, you aren’t wearing a flak jacket by any chance, are you?”
“What?”
“Never mind. Can I get you some coffee?”
My parents always did love Mandy, though apparently, not as much as I thought. They smiled as she led them inside, practically ripping their arms out of their coats to play hostess.
I followed her to the kitchen. I wasn’t about to witness my father witnessing to the Prescotts. Not sure why he insisted we pretend to be so perfect when every other family greeted him with puckered asses and false sincerity. My dad’s ideal world was some Leave it to Beaver bullshit…until the oldest child disrespected the father’s wishes, got the hell out of the house, and became a stain on their good name.
The American way.
Mandy leaned over the sink. She sipped the running water with her hand only to spit it out. Every muscle in her body tensed, and she took a breath deep enough to twist her inside out.
“It can’t be going that bad,” I said.
She yelped and spun to face me. I avoided the towel she pitched at my head.
“You should warn someone before you sneak up on them.”
“You’re right.” I grinned. “Bend over the sink again. I’ll make my presence known.”
“Very funny. What are you doing here?”
So she was playing it cold tonight. Good to know. But I wasn’t going to beg to get another chance with her. Luckily, Mandy wasn’t cruel enough to get off on that.
“You wanted to go out tonight,” I said.
“Oh my God, you were serious?”
“You weren’t?”
“I never thought you’d actually show up.”
Ah, a vote of confidence. Great. “Well, here I am. You ready to go?”
“Are you kidding?” Mandy pointed to the living room. “It’s Thunderdome in there. I can’t leave.”