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Maybe he doesn’t want me to fill in for Daisy. Maybe he thinks I’m too irresponsible. I know my dad constantly vents to him about what he perceives as my wild, party-girl ways, but I thought Brandon was too progressive to take those worries seriously. I party probably less than most college students, and I’ve always been safe when it comes to sex. I told Brandon as much the last time my dad asked him to talk to me.
Fuck Brandon for listening to my dad, if that’s what this really is. I got into one of the best history master’s programs in the whole country. He’s lucky to have me in this lowly volunteer position.
And I refuse to stay in my office of shame, especially if he’s trying to hide me from the rest of his staff. I need to get myself some coffee, and if I run into anyone on the way, I’ll be sure to strike up a watercooler conversation with them.
I march out of my office and into the lobby. The thermal coffee carafe is gone, but I know I saw it earlier. Damn it. Where is Harper? She looks near my age and would be the perfect person to chat with.
I walk to Brandon’s office and peek my head through the doorway. “Do you know if there’s any more coffee?”
He looks up from his computer, those piercing dark eyes locking onto mine. “I’m not sure. Harper usually handles that.”
He sounds annoyed, and I fight the urge to sneer. He’s no longer the CEO of a big gym franchise. This is the church, damn it, and he’s technically my pastor. He can be a little nicer.
I shift my weight. “Oh. Okay. I’ll just go ask her.”
Just as I start to turn around, he stands up from his desk. “I can make you some. I make it much stronger than Harper.”
His smile is warm, and it makes my head grow a little fuzzy. He’s so fucking gorgeous.
All this beauty wasted on a pastor.
No. I can’t think that way. It’s not fair to judge him when he’s truly good at what he does. I’m frustrated with my own family when it comes to religion, and I can’t let myself take it out on him.
He gestures for me to come into his office before disappearing, and I take the opportunity to scan his bookshelf. A huge stack of books and files sit at the corner. What is this?
I glance over my shoulder before reaching out and grabbing a book from the top of the stack. Damn. I think this is either Greek or Hebrew, probably ancient too. I knew he was educated, but I had no idea he could read the Bible in its original language.
“What are you reading?”
My cheeks warm, and I snap the book shut. When I look up, Brandon is standing next to me with two mugs in hand.
“I wasn’t actually.” I smile. “I don’t read Greek. Or Hebrew. I’m not sure which this is.”
His lips quirk as he hands me my coffee. “How did you know it was one of the two?”
I shrug, taking a sip. “I don’t. I was just guessing. I know the Bible was written in both. And some in Aramaic.”
He takes a sip of his own coffee. “You sure do know your history. It’s Greek, by the way.”
My head jerks up. “You can read Greek?”
He nods. “I have a master’s in divinity. Most programs teach Greek and Hebrew.”
I grin. “I’d love to learn another language. I mean, obviously you’ve heard me speak Spanish, but I’ve known that since birth. I would love to learn new languages throughout my lifetime. I feel like it would expand my mind and make me see the world differently.”
He grins. “You think language works that way?”
“I do. We think in words, so there’s no way it wouldn’t in some way shape the way we see the world. The world as we know it is basically just made up of our thoughts.”
His eyes are warm, crinkling at the edges. This is how he looked at me that night on the beach, and it made my stomach tie into knots then. It does the same now.
“It doesn’t surprise me that you became an atheist,” he says. “Your dad told me you drove him crazy growing up with all your questions.”
I force a smile, even as a coldness settles in my chest. I’m sure my dad seemed lighthearted when he told Brandon that, but had I been there, I would have picked up on that edge of irritation in his voice. He wouldn’t have had the warm smile that Brandon is giving me now. Maybe that’s why Brandon is such a good pastor. He’s not afraid of people who question God, which makes him a safe place.
“I sure did,” I say. “Enough that they eventually didn’t want to even try to answer them anymore. I spent a lot of time in our old pastor’s office.”
Brandon’s smile fades, and I brace myself for his pity. “Was your pastor able to answer your questions?”
