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“What the fuck?”
“What are you doing here? Are you following me?”
“Following you?” I gawk back at Angel standing in the doorway. What the actual fuck?
“Seriously, you need to leave—”
“Hey, nice of you to show. Glad you stopped pouting.” Kip leans over her shoulder, addressing me, but I’m too busy picking my chin up off the ground.
“What…who...she…” I’ve been rendered stupid.
“Huh? You okay, man? Rough night?” Kip laughs.
“Her.” I just point. What the hell is going on? “Her…dad…dead…”
“Who, Bridget? She’s my little cousin. Remember my dad’s younger brother? The pastor?” No, I certainly fucking do not. She stands there, looking just as confused, making no move to tell her cousin we already know each other.
“Bridge, this is my best friend, Chase. Chase, Bridge. Oh, and, Chase, don’t even think about it. Again, my uncle is a pastor who’s very much alive. Poor Bridget isn’t even allowed to hold a dude’s hand until she’s twenty-one.”
He pats his cousin on the shoulder while I choke on my own breath. “She’s how—how—?”
“Dude, don’t barf on my front step. Come in or not. I gotta find Stace. The baby pooped again.” Kip prepares to turn away from us before coming back to me. “Oh, and Chase? Even wink at her and you’re dead. Hear me?”
No winking. Got it. How about taking her virginity? Before I can even reply, he walks away.
Seems like my angel is the devil in disguise after all.
And I’m on the fast track straight to hell.
Chapter 3
Bridget
Kipley turns to walk away, and I slam the door in his face. The face I never, in a billion years, thought I would see again. My heart hammers against my ribcage, and I wipe my clammy palms down my white cotton summer dress. This can’t be happening. The almighty Lord has officially had it with my shenanigans. This is him punishing me for my unholiness. My father is finally going to follow through on his threats to send me off to a convent where he thinks a bunch of nuns will cleanse my black soul.
A round of banging resonates from the other side of the door.
Crap. Crap! What do I do?
Well, for one, don’t stick around to confront your latest sin.
I turn on my heel and take off down the hallway. The front door bursts open, and a chill skates down my back. I pick up my pace, my lips strained upward as I smile at Aunt Getty.
“My dear, you are looking just lovely—”
“You too, Aunt Getty. Thanks!” I wave and hurry past her, making an escape out the sliding glass door into the backyard. The sun blinds me as I step outside. I cup my hand over my eyes. The pounding of angry footsteps echo from inside, and I throw myself into the sea of relatives and friends, hoping to find a hole to hide in until the ghost of my bad choices is gone. Problem is, he’s not a ghost at all. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the stunt I pulled last night. The fight with my father that had me acting so irrationally. God, I was so angry. All of it finally boiled over, and I stopped thinking clearly. Thinking at all. It pushed me so far, I believed going through with such a crazy plan would fix things.
Fix me.
My cheeks flush at the memory of last night. The boldness that took over when I propositioned a complete stranger and let him touch me in a way only one other person ever has. Then I allowed him to take something I’d been foolishly holding on to for a dead person. A naïve belief that you save your virtue for the one you marry. The one you give your heart to. Well, I’d been doing that for three years and that person was taken away from me. I just wanted the pain to go away. The hurt and emptiness to fade. I wanted to stop feeling so alone. And how did giving up your virginity to someone you don’t even know work out? Not good, since he’s no longer a stranger.
I shake my head in disbelief. I’ve done some crazy things. Rebelled over the years. But this one takes the cake. “Jesus, what was I thinking?” Actually, don’t answer that, Jesus.
I make the mistake of looking over my shoulder, and there he is, standing in the doorway. I grip my biceps. He’s even more attractive than he was in the low-lit bar. More breathtaking than when he was naked and blanketed over me. I watch as he scans the backyard, the crease around his eyes becoming tight as he makes eye contact with— “Oh, shoot.” I whip around to take off, barreling right into someone.
“Oh boy!” Hannah, my cousin, squeals as we both attempt to steady one another.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I was just—I was just…uh—”
