“Alright, you need to get out of here,” I say to my friend Zac. “You’re distracting me.”
Not that I really want him to leave. Sure, he’s been sitting on my desk for the last half hour, and I’ve gotten almost nothing done. He’s been talking so much, I’ve barely even been able to eat the lunch he brought me.
But at least I haven’t thought about Brandon.
Much.
My head has been pounding today. Screaming. What is going to happen? I came to Brandon’s office this morning to have our “talk.” He told me we’d have it at the end of the day without even looking up from his computer. Since then, he’s been as cold and remote as a marble statue.
“Alright, I’ll leave you alone,” Zac says. “Are you coming to happy hour tomorrow night?”
I wrinkle my nose. “Not unless Livvy’s coming. I’m not a big baseball fan. It’s boring.”
“My little hater.” Zac leans forward and touches the tip of my nose. “Don’t tell Cole. He’ll start crying.”
I snort. “As if I care about soothing his—”
My lips close as Brandon’s face appears in the doorway. His jaw is set, and his eyes are dark.
“Do you need something?” I ask.
“Nope.” He quickly disappears, and my bafflement expands like a balloon.
Why did he seem angry? I didn’t do anything wrong last night, damn it.
“I want to do something with you on Saturday,” Zac says. “No spending the day with Livvy. It’s my turn.”
I giggle. “Your turn? Is this a competition now between you and Livvy? You know she’ll always win.”
He grins. “Hey, I’ll fight. She’s going to be married soon. She won’t have the stamina.”
“She’ll still win, honey. Besties always win.”
He leans forward, stopping an inch away from my face. “Yeah, but I’ve got something she doesn’t.”
I burst into laughter, and he narrows his eyes playfully. “Don’t act like you don’t—”
“Mariana,” Brandon’s voice booms from the doorway, “can you come in my office for a second?”
The sharpness in his tone startles me. “Just a second.”
Brandon hesitates for a moment, glancing at Zac and then back to me before walking away.
Oh fuck.
He’s going to fire me. That’s what our talk is going to be about. Apparently, I’ve irritated him so much that he can’t even wait until the end of the day.
“That didn’t sound good,” Zac says.
Heat washes over my skin. “No, it doesn’t. You really need to get out of here.”
He winces as he starts walking away. “Sorry if I got you in trouble.”
I wave a hand. “It’s not you, it’s…something else. But I don’t want to piss him off even more. I’ll text you later if I decide to come to happy hour.”
As soon as Zac disappears, I head toward Brandon’s office, my heart pounding louder and louder with each step, like a warrior’s drum.
When I walk through the door, my attention is immediately drawn to the rigid set of his jaw and furrow in his brow, and that familiar rebellion grows like a flame within me. After the silent treatment I’ve been getting, I’m ready for a fight.
It’s unfair that he thinks he messed up, and now I have to pay for it. I didn’t ask him to touch my damn lip.
Though I did love it when he did.
“What can I do for you, Pastor?” At the word “pastor”, his jaw ticks, and I could almost smile. He caught on to my intended insolence.
“Sit,” he says, and I jerk back at the abruptness in the command.
Tendrils of heat fill my gut as I sit on a small couch in front of his desk. Why does it always turn me on when he scolds me?
Probably because after yesterday, I’m not so sure it comes from a fatherly place like I used to.
Brandon takes a heavy breath. “We need to have a sort of…uncomfortable conversation.”
My stomach plummets. Oh, fuck. He really is going to fire me. Ice skitters through my veins at the thought.
I shouldn’t care. I didn’t even want this internship to begin with.
I hate myself for wanting to cry.
“I hope you understand that I appreciate how much you’re helping me out right now, Mariana.” He emphasizes my name. Is that a taunt because I called him “pastor”?
“Thank you,” I say, my voice brittle.
“But even though this is an unpaid position, I can’t have you fraternizing while you’re working.” His voice is stern.
His words don’t compute at first. What the fuck is he talking about? He was the one who invited me out to dinner last night. He was the one who…
When his meaning finally dawns, I have to clench my jaw to keep from smiling.
He’s talking about Zac.
I lean back into my chair. “Fraternizing? Did you really just use that word?”
He shuts his eyes. “You know what I mean. This may be a volunteer position, but the rules are the same.”
“I wasn’t fraternizing.”
“He was sitting on your desk.” Brandon’s nostrils flare. “He’s not an employee. He’s not a member of the church. It’s not appropriate. Your door was wide open. Anyone could have seen you.”
My lips quirk. “Isn’t that how it’s supposed to be? Aren’t the doors always supposed to be open when men and women are together at churches?”
He averts his gaze. “We don’t have gendered rules like that here.”
I scowl. “Then what is this about?”
He leans forward. “I wouldn’t tolerate this among my gym employees either. This has nothing to do with working at a church.”
I lift my chin. “Tolerate what exactly, Brandon?”
Those dark eyes grow wide, and his cheeks flush. His voice drops to a whisper. “I won’t tolerate insubordination, Mariana.”
My breath hitches, and heat rushes between my legs. Oh my God. Is it just my imagination, or does he feel this electricity between us, too?
I lick my lips and lean forward, meeting his gaze with a challenge in my eyes. “Insubordination? I’m not even a real employee.” I can’t help the way my voice drops to a low, sultry tone. “Are you sure this isn’t about something else?”
When his eyes darken, I let my body melt back into the chair and flip a chunk of hair over my shoulder. My God, I can’t believe I’m behaving this way. My taut nerves are making me reckless.
“You won’t tolerate insubordination from me, but I have to let you touch me without complaint. Is that it?”
His eyes grow huge, and a wicked heat sizzles through my veins. “I never…” He grits his teeth. “I never should have done that.”
An itch for rebellion quakes through my whole body. I lean forward, setting my elbows on his desk. “What if I liked it?”
His face grows flushed, and that big chest rises and falls rapidly. “I’m courting your sister.”
I snort. “She and I both know you’re not even into her. You only asked her out to make my dad happy.”
He averts his gaze. “You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.” I lift my hand and rub my index finger along my bottom lip. Brandon jerks back, looking utterly baffled by my behavior.
I’m a little baffled too. Why am I pushing him so hard when I really don’t want to get fired?
I enjoy being around him every day.
Brandon stands up suddenly, his rolling chair shooting out behind him like a rocket. “I need a moment. We’ll talk at the end of the day.”
A split second later, the door slams, and I sit in silence for several minutes, listening to the pounding rhythm of my racing heart.
Mariana
He didn’t come back.
The sun sets behind the ocean as I drive through the hills of an upscale Santa Barbara neighborhood, my eyes getting bigger with each house I pass. Damn. My dad mentioned that Brandon lives in a nice house, but I never expected this.
No wonder he didn’t come back today. If I lived in this neighborhood, I would never leave.
A small smile tugs at my lips. He’s going to be outraged when he sees me.
He called the office a half hour ago asking for several books from his office shelf. I overheard bits and pieces of Harper’s conversation with him, and as soon as she hung up, I volunteered to drive them to his house, even though he requested her.
I won’t let him avoid me.
My navigation tells me I’ve arrived, and I park on the sidewalk next to a house at the top of the hill. Holy shit. This house has to be worth at least a couple million. And here I thought my dad was exaggerating when he said Brandon was a multimillionaire.
As I approach the front door, a tingle runs over my skin. I’m going to see Brandon’s private space. His home. Why does the thought of it give me a naughty thrill?
After I ring the bell, the door opens, and his huge form hovers over me. He smells damn good, like he just took a shower.
His eyes widen. “What are you doing here?”
I let my lids grow heavy as I smile. “Delivering your books.”
“What happened to Harper?”
“She had a final to study for. I told her it was no problem for me.”
He looks at me skeptically, probably because I infused such a smarmy cheerfulness into my voice. I can’t help it.
I’m angry.
“You’re avoiding me,” I say.
His expression shutters. “I hadn’t figured out what to say to you yet. I’ve been praying about it.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Did God tell you to fire me?”
His eyes grow huge. “Of course not. I would never fire you for something that’s my fault.”
“It’s just a volunteer position. I don’t really need it.”
We stare at each other in charged silence. Then his eyes flicker to the books in my hand, as if he’s ready for the conversation to be over.
“Well, I’ll leave you alone to pray,” I say quickly. “Here you go.”
Something flashes in his eyes as I hand him the books. “You want to come in for a second so I can thank you with a cup of coffee?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” He smiles. “I have French vanilla creamer.”
My tummy flutters. It’s sweet that he thinks I like that creamer. The only reason I use so much of it at the church is because the coffee is usually sour from sitting in the carafe for so many hours. I glance through the doorway at the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the ocean, and curiosity gets the better of me.
“That sounds good,” I say and follow him inside.
While he fetches my coffee, I try to absorb every inch of his home, wishing I could pour through his rooms and learn more about him. He has a minimalist style, with beige walls, abstract expressionist art, and scattered midcentury modern furniture. Why do the houses of rich people always look this way, as if they have to be completely scrubbed of humanity in order to look clean?
I spot a book lying on the coffee table. When I walk closer, I see that it’s about hiking the highest peaks in the world. I smile to myself. I’d love to go on a hike with him. Be a quiet presence while he—
Brandon emerges from the entryway with two steaming mugs, yanking me out of my silly fantasy.
“Your house is beautiful.” I hold the cup to my lips and blow on the hot liquid. “I’d never leave here if I had a view like this.”
His gaze drifts to the glass wall of ocean. “It’s surprising how soon you get used to it. Now it’s like beautiful wallpaper. I hardly even notice it.”
As I glance out at the water, I catch glimpses of sailboats bobbing in the distance. My God, how much wealth would it take to see a view like this as wallpaper? “You really are humble, Pastor. I had no idea your gym business was this successful.”
He smiles. “We had eighteen gyms total in California and Nevada when my partner bought me out.”
“Damn,” I mutter. “I thought there were just gyms in Santa Barbara and Goleta. You must be loaded. Why would you give all that up to make nothing as a pastor?”
He chuckles. “I love how direct you are.”
My cheeks warm at his use of the word “love.” He’s used it before in reference to me and my family, but never with so much warmth in his voice.
Heat is a better word.
“Quitting was the best decision I ever made,” he says. “I was thoroughly burnt out when I finally sold my share of the company. I wouldn’t have done anyone any good had I stayed. Damon—my partner and best friend at the time—probably would have tried to force me to sell eventually.”
I wrinkle my nose. “What a dick.”
He grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “He would’ve been justified. My mom had just passed away, and I was completely checked out. I had been since she got sick, really. I didn’t even show up to our last few board meetings.”
“That doesn’t sound like you, even if you were grieving. I guess…you must have been really devastated.”
“I was.” His gaze grows unfocused. “She was my anchor, even as a grown man. I didn’t form strong bonds with anyone else back then. I didn’t… I had a hard time being vulnerable before I came to God.”
I lift my chin. “Like most men I know.”
“Yes.” His smile fades. “My dad is the same way. He deals with his emotions by finding new, younger woman.”
A chill skates over my skin at the bitterness in his voice. I’ve never heard him talk this way before. In his sermons, he always sounds so quietly accepting of life’s trials, probably partially by design. He wants his congregation to look to him for guidance.
No wonder he never talks about his dad. He wouldn’t want people to see this side of him.
I soften my voice. “That must have been hard for your mom.”
“It was.” His jaw clenches. “He left her for one of his younger women. I’m not sure if she ever really recovered from it. Cancer’s a complicated disease, and I sometimes wonder if…” He shakes his head. “There’s no point dwelling on things that can’t be changed.”
He stares down at his coffee mug for a moment. Then, as if a thought occurs to him, a cynical smile tugs at his lips. “He left that woman too, for an even younger woman.”
I frown. “Which one was Ethan’s mom?”
“Wife number two.” That cynical smile grows. “He’s now on wife number three. She’s probably only a little older than Sofia.”
A wave of melancholy washes over me. Everything is starting to click into place. No wonder he’s agonizing over touching my lip yesterday. Any attraction to a woman as young as me probably reminds him of his dad.
“Don’t feel sorry for me,” he says abruptly. “I’d probably still be a selfish prick if things hadn’t happened the way they did. I used to be the type of person who saw people only for what they could do for me, and it was a shitty way to go through life. For me and for the people I treated like garbage. I had so many shallow friendships and…” His jaw tightens. “Relationships with women that were only about…one thing. Now I know that all people have value. All people are worthy. I believe this from the bottom of my soul, and it didn’t come from within. It came from God.”
I smile faintly. “I guess I’m fucked then.”
He shakes his head sharply. “You don’t need God. You’re that way all on your own.”
The atmosphere between us changes, like smoke drifting through the air, I can almost see it. No one has ever told me anything like that before, not even the people who accept me just as I am—like Livvy and Vanessa.
What would it be like to be in this house all the time? What would it be like to become part of the beautiful wallpaper—sitting out there on the patio with him looking at me like he is right now, telling me I’m perfect as I am?
Oh fuck, I hope this doesn’t mean the lip touch got to my head. Wanting him physically is one thing, but I can’t develop deeper feelings for him. What would he do if he caught on?
He’d probably pity me. Think I’m a silly girl, like the young women in his church who have stars in their eyes when they approach him after his sermons.
“Well, I should head out,” I say quickly.
He jerks back a little, as if surprised by my change in mood. “I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess.”
I smile. “Tomorrow’s Saturday, Pastor.”
“I’ll be at dinner.”
My stomach drops. Oh, that’s right. The dinner with my family. “Damn, I forgot. Everyone’s going to be there. They’re all going to be asking me how this whole…internship with you is going.”
He smiles faintly. “You’ll tell them it’s going great, that you’re doing an excellent job.”
I let out a groan. “They’re going to ask me what I’ve learned about the Bible.”
He reaches out and sets his hand on my shoulder, sending tingles up my neck. “You don’t need to say anything to appease them. Wasn’t that what yesterday was about? You accept yourself as you are, even if they don’t.”
Warmth spreads slowly from my chest out to my limbs, making my whole body lighter. How does he do it? How does he provide comfort while also pushing me to be braver? With anyone else, I’d probably get defensive. Or consider his gentle encouragement condescending.
Brandon seems to see right through me, straight into my heart.
I’m not sure if I like it.
“I’m going to try to get to know Sofia better,” he says.
His words hit me like a shockwave. How could I forget about Sofia? I can’t start catching feelings for him when he’s technically dating my sister.
I force what I hope looks like a light smile. “You weren’t doing that already—you know—by courting her?”
His expression grows grave. “I’ve been thinking about what you said this morning. About not being into her… It isn’t right that she thinks that. She’s a wonderful woman. She deserves someone who’ll give it his all. Give things a real chance.”
My throat grows tight. “So you’re going to actually talk to someone besides my dad at this family dinner?”
His lips quirk. “Watch it, young lady. I’m still your boss. I won’t give your family a good report tomorrow if you keep sassing me.”
I snort. Thankfully, my thoughts are too twisted for me to be turned on by his playful sternness. “Maybe you should tell them you baptized me as an atheist. That way I won’t be the only outcast.”
His smile vanishes. “Oh, Mariana.” His voice grows hushed. “You’ll never be an outcast. Even if you disappoint your family, you’ll always have people who love you.” He clears his throat. “Including me.”
Mist rises to my eyes as a lulling warmth fills my body. I know what he means by “love.” It’s a Godly love. Maybe even a fatherly love. But it doesn’t make it any less devastating as he stares at me with eyes as deep and dark as a cavern.
I can’t let it get to my head when the best pastors are good at this. Good at providing quiet comfort that makes you feel like you’ve been roaming the earth alone until you found them. It’s where the belief in deities comes from. It’s why cult leaders can charm people to their death.
It won’t happen to me.
I won’t fall for him.
