Page 67 of Love Everlasting

A grin eased across Chase’s face as he closed the door, indicating for Sam to follow. “Him,” Chase said with a chuckle, ambling into a woodsy room as rustic on the inside as the cabin was on the outside. “Short for Samson. Although since you appear to be his new hero, maybe I should change it to Samuel.”

“Naw, Samson suits him—shaggy and strong like his namesake.” Sam strolled behind Chase into a tidy, but old-fashioned, knotty-pine kitchen with a generous window overlooking the lake. He slid onto a matching bar stool at a Formica counter.

Chase laughed as he opened an ancient refrigerator. “Somehow I never pegged you as a Bible guy, Doc.” He glanced up from the fridge. “Red Bull, OJ, or coffee?” His mouth tipped. “Or nearly expired milk since I may have one or two monster cookies left over from some that Shannon gave to me.”

At the mention of Shannon’s name, Sam’s mood went south, as sour as that milk was likely to be in another week. “Thanks, but I won’t be here that long,” he said in a clipped tone, jaw suddenly tight.

Eyes in a squint, Chase stood to his full height with a hand propped to the open fridge door. “Something eating at you, Sam?”

“Yeah, as a matter of fact there is.” Sam tried to temper his scowl, but it was no use. The rev was an okay guy, he supposed, but right now he was too big an obstacle in Sam’s quest for Shannon, fraying his nerves. Steeling his backbone, Sam jutted his chin. “I broke it off with Jasmine tonight because I’ve discovered that I have deep feelings for Shannon,” he said, eyes unflinching, “so I’m hoping you’ll respect that, Chase, and be willing to back off.”

Chase closed the door with a cool look before he butted against the counter, muscled arms in a tight fold. “Not an easy thing to do, Doc, since I have feelings for her, too, you know.”

Sam’s chest constricted. “Are you in love with her?”

Head cocked, Chase studied Sam with an unreadable expression. “I’m on my way,” he said quietly, “and I’m not about to back off if she’s just another conquest to you, Sam.”

In a rare show of temper, Sam slammed a fist to the bar. “I’m in love with her, all right?” His voice came out harsh, shocking even him. He swallowed hard. “And she’s in love with me.” His voice tapered off to a near whisper. “So I’m asking you nicely, Rev, to do me this favor—please.”

“And who told you she’s in love with you?” Chase asked with a shuttered look, as if questioning Sam’s integrity.

Sam felt a tic in his temple. “She did. Tonight. After I told her I thought I was falling in love with her.”

“I see.” Without another word, Chase moved to a Keurig coffeemaker—the only new thing in the house—and punched in a K-cup and a mug below, his back to Sam while he waited for it to brew. Muscles that rivaled Sam’s own rippled through Chase’s thin T-shirt as he reached for a dog biscuit from a cookie jar, and Sam’s mouth clamped in a tight line. Whether Shannon agreed to a serious relationship with Sam right now or not, he was determined to oust all competition. His jawbone compressed with resolve. Because one way or the other, she would agree eventually if he had his way, and Sam didn’t want some muscle-bound minister messing that up.

Mug and dog treat in hand, the rev avoided eye contact on his way to the great room while his pup followed close behind. Tossing the treat in the air, Sam Jr. snatched it as Chase hunched on the edge of a brown leather sectional overlooking the lake, the setting real cozy while he sipped on his coffee.

Only Sam wasn’t here for cozy. “So, what’s your answer, Rev?” he said, rising to stroll into the main room.

“I’d get some coffee if I were you, Sam,” the rev said in an unequivocal monotone as he stared out the window, the tic in his jaw matching the one in Sam’s temple.

Frustration suddenly swarmed Sam’s collar, lighting his fuse. “I don’t want coffee, Griffin; I want your word you’ll back off from Shannon.”

Chase finally looked up, his steely gaze piercing Sam straight through. “Sure, Cunningham, I’ll back off.” He took a slow sip of his coffee, drilling Sam with a flinty look that had, no doubt, served him well as a Navy Seal. “On three conditions.”

Sam bristled. “And those are?”

Chase took his time with another sip, setting the cup down before slanting back with an arm straddling the top of the sofa, his smile hard. “One, you treat her honorably, respecting her moral boundaries. Which means, Dr. Love,” he said with a threat in his tone, “if you’re really serious about her like you say, then you toss your little black book in the trash and commit to her and only her. And no fast moves like you pull with other girls either. Shannon is a class act, Sam, and she deserves your respect and protection. So if I feel even a quiver of concern that you’re pressuring her in anyway” —he paused with a dip of his granite jaw, his intent more than perfectly clear— “I will mess you and your pretty face up real good, Doc, pastor or no, you got that?”

Sam met his stony look with a stubborn one of his own. “Yeah, I got that. But for your information, Rev, Shannon’s innocence and purity are two of the things I love about her most, so I have no intention of messing with that or her.”

“Can I have your word on that?” Chase pinned him with a challenge that scalded the back of Sam’s neck.

“I don’t have to give you anything,” Sam snapped, his tone sharp enough to embarrass him if he wasn’t so hot under the collar. He paused to massage the sudden throb between his eyes, desperate to curb an anger he suspected was completely fueled by fear. Expelling a shaky breath, he forced civility into his tone. “But I’ll give Shannon my word that my intentions are purely honorable.”

Without so much as a blink, Chase stared him down. “Then can I have your word on that?”

Sam let fly with a rare curse, the sound exploding into the air along with his temper. “Yeah, you have my word on that, Preacher Boy, so you happy?”

“Not yet.” He rose and strolled into the kitchen, pulling another cup from a cabinet. “I still have two more conditions, Doc.” He tossed the used K-cup in the trash and deposited another into the Keurig. “I want you to start coming to church on a regular basis,” he said with a hard glance over his shoulder. “Not any of these occasional visits when the mood strikes either, Sam, because Shannon deserves a man of faith, not some player just going through the motions.”

Sam worked hard to bridle his impatience. Not because he didn’t want to attend church regularly because he did, especially with Shannon. It was the rev’s mandate that ticked him off. “Not a problem because I know how important it is to Shannon.”

“And to you,” Chase emphasized, strolling back into the great room with another cup of coffee. He set it down in front of a log chair and ottoman woven in a Navaho pattern of rusts, browns, and blues. “Take a load off, Sam. You probably need to be sitting when I tell you condition number three.”

“Already told you, I’m not staying that long.” Ignoring the inviting call of the coffee, Sam slacked a hip, hands in his pockets.

“Sure you are,” Chase said with an overly confident air that got on Sam’s last nerve. “It goes along with condition number three.”