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I cringe as I step inside, the door creaking shut behind me. There’s an earthy, damp smell to the place, like old wood and mildew. I make my way to the tiny bathroom.
Pink.
A pink sink, and a pink toilet.
A wave of irritation crashes over me. It’s not just the fact that this damn bungalow clearly hasn’t been renovated since the nineteen eighties. It’s the reason I’m here in the first place. Brandon’s damn piousness.
What is so wrong with messing around with a woman fourteen years younger than him who happens to be his best friend’s daughter? I’ve wanted him since the moment I first saw him leading worship at First Covenant four years ago. I was a goddamn adult back then.
There’s something more to it. I can feel it. He’s afraid to get close to me.
It’s probably because I’m an atheist. He doesn’t want to fall for someone like me.
I take a deep breath to ease the tightness in my chest. After turning from the bathroom, my gaze falls on my suitcase. An idea sprouts.
I pull out my black dress. It’s long with heavy material that hugs the contours of my body, but it’s casual enough that no one will question why I’d wear it at a pastor’s conference. Brandon will notice though.
He always notices.
A pang of guilt shoots into my chest, but I try to ignore it. It’s not like I’m crossing any of the lines he established for us. Wearing a flattering dress isn’t the same thing as calling him Daddy.
Still, I wish I had more mature ways of dealing with rejection.
I dress quickly, applying a touch more makeup than usual, giving my lips an extra gloss. God, I’m childish. I shouldn’t be trying to taunt him when he’s so troubled by his attraction to me.
But if he “slips up” again on this trip and touches me, I certainly won’t cry about it.
Brandon
Fuck, I need to get out of here.
The restaurant is brimming with conversation. Our group maxed out the entire resort, which means everyone here is either a pastor or someone who works for one.
My guilt has grown as heavy as a mountain. These people came to this conference to hear my wisdom.
And all I want to do is fuck my PA intern, who’s the youngest daughter of the man who brought me to Christ.
As I scan the room, my gaze lands on the subject of my thoughts. Even in the crowded hall, Mariana stands out like a flame in the darkness. The long black dress she’s wearing clings to her curves, accentuating her body. A body I know she’d let me touch if I only asked.
She’s like the fruit of the tree in the middle of the garden, and in moments like these, letting my whole fucking life implode almost feels worth the fleeting heaven of tasting her.
Beside me, Jeremy, a young pastor from Santa Monica follows my gaze. “Who is that?” His voice is full of appreciation.
“Mariana,” I say a touch too sharply. “She’s my temporary PA.”
He turns back to me, a teasing glint in his eye. “How are you still single with women like that around you?”
I force a tight smile.
Don’t lose your temper. Lots of married men comment on the appearance of other women.
“I’d never date my PA.”
But I would go down on her in my own church.
As Mariana approaches, Pastor Jeremy flashes her a big smile. “The PA joins us. He hasn’t scared you away yet with those tattoo sleeves?”
Mariana returns his smile and takes a seat. “All of New Morning loves his tattoos. They make him seem more human.”
