Page 41 of The Secret of Emerald Cottage

“Of course I did,” he sniped.

“Did you want those prayers to be answered? For her healing?”

He scowled. “You know I did, because believe it or not, Princess, I have a heart and love my aunt very much.”

The tension in her face muscles relaxed as she relented with a gentle smile. “She knows that, Brec and so do I, because you’ve proven it over and over again. But something we also know is that you have a soul, too, and unless you get right with God, it’s headed for a dark, dark place that will make Alexandria look like the dawn of a new day.”

He blinked, her statement obviously taking him by surprise before he glanced away with a sour look. “Now you’re starting to sound like Aunt Lilly.”

“Thank you.”

He peered up beneath dark lashes, his look almost ominous. “It wasn’t a compliment.”

“Sure it was.” She rose and carried her uneaten pie to the sink, her appetite completely diminished. Scraping and rinsing her plate and fork, she put them in the dishwasher, then faced him with hands braced to the counter and a lift of her chin. “Miss Lilly is one of the smartest people I know. When I came here, I had a chip on my shoulder as big as yours over my ex-fiancé’s betrayal”—she bit back a smile when his brows dug in—“and she taught me that praying for Tyler was the best way to get over both him and the pain that he caused. It’s James 5:16 in the flesh, mister—'pray for one another, that you may be healed.’ Because that”—she strolled over to stand in front of him with hip cocked and arms in a casual fold—“is the only way to turn the page, Brec, and the only way to ‘turn over that new leaf’ you so desperately want, my friend.”

Ignoring the hard line of his jaw, she bent to give his shoulder a light touch, affection warm in her gaze. “And you are, you know,” she said softly, “my friend, that is, just like Miss Lilly. And one I treasure as much as her.”

Mouth in a mulish press, he slid her a slatted look out of the corner of his eyes. “And just as bloomin’ cagey.”

She contemplated the insult for several seconds with a faint smile before she acquiesced with a slow nod of agreement. “I think I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“I wouldn’t.” He rose with his empty plate and cup in hand, his smile wry as he carried them to the sink. “I thought Christians were supposed to be virtuous.”

“Oh, we are,” she said with a sweet flutter of lashes. “Unless, of course, we’re dealing with a”—she lowered her voice—“‘wolf.’ ‘Behold, I send you out as sheep in the midst of wolves; so be shrewd as serpents and innocent as doves.’”

His smile deadpanned. “Real cute.”

“I thought so.” Molly bounced over to grab a dishrag to wipe off the table, so grateful she’d been able to break the “God barrier” with Brec, as Miss Lilly liked to call it, opening the door for one to share their faith. Finishing up, she lifted on the balls of her tennis shoes to aim the dishrag into the sink like a basketball into a net, giving him a saucy grin. “Soooo …”—she rubbed her palms together with a wiggle of brows—“you ready for some poker, Striker Man?”

“No, thanks, Princess, I’ll pass.” He rinsed his dishes and placed them in the dishwasher before hurling the door closed with a wry twist of his lips.

“Why?” Molly lent a sing-song cadence to the question, which only soured Brec’s face all the more. “Afraid you’ll lose your shirt?”

“Yeah,” he said with a wry bent of his lips as he ambled to the staircase, hands buried deep in his pockets. Pausing on the first step, he placed a palm on the newel post while he delivered a half-lidded smirk that came off more as a scowl. “And what’s left of my pride.”