“Much,” I admitted, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. “Thank you, Cash.”
He gave me a soft, genuine smile. “Happy to oblige.”
We cleaned up in comfortable silence, stealing glances and small touches as we worked. When we were done, we stood there awkwardly for a moment, both of us suddenly aware that we were back to that strange territory between friendship and something more.
“I should get some sleep,” I said finally. “Big day tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, but made no move to leave. “Mike?”
“Yeah?”
“For what it’s worth, I think you’re gonna do great tomorrow. That congregation’s lucky to have you.”
The sincerity in his voice caught me off guard. “Thank you. That... that means a lot.”
He nodded once, then headed back toward his room. I watched him go for a minute before heading back to my own.
As I settled back under the covers, I found my mind quieter now, my body finally relaxed enough for sleep. The sermon I’d been worrying about all week suddenly felt less daunting. Maybe it was the post-orgasmic haze, or maybe it was Cash’s unexpected vote of confidence, but I felt more prepared than I had in days.
I must have finally dozed off because the next thing I knew, my alarm was blaring and sunlight was streaming through the bedroom windows. Sunday morning. My first official sermon as pastor of Sagebrush Community Church.
My stomach immediately clenched with nerves as I rolled out of bed. I could hear Cash moving around in the kitchen, the familiar sounds of coffee brewing and cabinet doors opening and closing. The smell of bacon drifted down the hall, making my mouth water despite the anxiety churning in my gut.
I showered quickly and pulled on my best suit, a navy blue with a crisp white shirt and my favorite tie. Looking at myself in the mirror, I tried to summon the confidence I’d felt last night. I looked professional enough, respectable. Like someone a congregation might actually want to listen to.
When I made it to the kitchen, Cash was standing at the stove, fully dressed in clean jeans and a button-down shirt that looked like he’d actually ironed it. He glanced over his shoulder as I entered.
“Mornin’,” he said, turning back to the pan. “Made you breakfast. Figured you might be too nervous to eat, but you should try.”
I stared at him, surprised by the gesture. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know.” He slid eggs and bacon onto a plate, then set it on the counter with a cup of coffee. “But I wanted to.”
I sat down at the counter, touched by his thoughtfulness even as my nerves made it hard to appreciate the food. “Thank you. This is... really sweet of you.”
Cash shrugged, but I caught the slight pink tinge to his cheeks. “Don’t read too much into it. It’s just eggs.”
But it wasn’t just eggs, and there’s no way he didn’t know that too. This was Cash taking care of me in his own quiet way, and it made my chest flutter with an emotion I wasn’t supposed to be feeling.
I managed to eat about half the plate before my stomach rebelled completely. Cash watched me push the food around, his brow furrowed with something that looked almost like concern.
“You’re gonna be fine,” he said quietly. “Better than fine. You’re gonna be great.”
“What if I forget everything I wanted to say? What if they hate it? What if?—”
“Mike.” He stepped closer, his hand finding my shoulder. “Breathe. It’s just Sagebrush. And this is what you were meant to do, right?”
I looked up at him, struck again by how different he could be when his walls came down, if only for a moment. This wasn’t the angry, defensive man who’d shown up on my doorstep three weeks ago. This was someone gentler, someone who actually cared about my wellbeing.
“Will you...” I started, then stopped, shaking my head. “Never mind. Stupid question.”
“What?”
“Will you be there? At the service?” The words tumbled out before I could stop them. “I know you said you don’t do church, and I’m not trying to push religion on you or anything. I just thought maybe?—”
“Yeah,” he said, cutting off my rambling. “I’ll be there.”
I blinked at him in surprise. “Really?”
