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Jenny laughed. "What difference does it make? God hears you say it all the time." Suddenly she took on a serious mien and gazed at him, her eyes probing deeply into his. "You do believe in God, don't you Cage?"
"Yes." There was no doubt he was telling the truth. His face was rarely that somber. "And in my own way I worship Him. I know what people say about me. My own parents think I'm a heathen."
"I'm certain they don't think that."
He looked doubtful. "What do you think of me?"
"That you're a stereotypical preacher's kid."
He threw back his head and laughed. "That's an oversimplification, isn't it?"
"Not at all. When you were growing up, you acted ornery to keep from being thought of as a goody-goody."
"I'm grown up, but I still don't want to be a goody-goody."
"No one would accuse you of that," she teased, poking his thigh with her index finger. She drew her hand back quickly. His thigh was hard, just like Hal's, and it reminded her too well of hard, jean-clad muscles rubbing against her naked legs.
To cover her consternation she asked, "Do you remember trying to make me laugh when I was singing in the choir?"
"Me?" he asked indignantly. "I
never did any such thing."
"Oh, yes, you did. Making faces and looking cross-eyed. From way back there in the back row where you sat with one of your girls, you would—"
"With 'one of my girls'? You make it sound like I had a harem."
"Didn't you? Don't you?"
His eyes lowered significantly and took a leisurely tour of her body. "There's always room for one more. Wanna fill out an application?"
"Oh!" she cried, jumping from her seat and facing him with mock fury, fists digging into her hips. "Will you get out of here. I've got work to do."
"Yeah, so do I," he said, sighing and pulling himself to his feet. "I just signed a contract leasing a hundred acres of the old Parsons place."
"Is that good?" She knew little about his work, only that it had something to do with oil and that he was considered successful
"Very. We're ready to start drilling."
"Congratulations."
"Save those for when the first well comes in." Playfully he yanked on an errant strand of caramel-colored hair that had escaped the knot on top of her head. Turning, he sauntered up the aisle of the church toward the door.
"Cage?" Jenny asked suddenly.
"Yeah?" He turned back around, looking rugged and handsome, windblown and sun-baked, disreputable and dangerous. His thumbs were hooked in his belt loops. The collar of his denim vest was flipped up to bracket his jaw.
"I forgot to ask you why you came by."
His shoulders bobbed in a brief shrug. "No special reason. 'Bye, Jenny."
"'Bye."
He stared at her for a moment before he put on his sunglasses and stepped through the door.
* * *
Jenny struggled to anchor the damp bedsheet to the clothesline before the strong wind ripped it from her grasp. The linens she had already hung up popped like sails and flapped around her like giant wings.
