I shake out my hands, trying to get ahold of what I’m seeing in front of me. Dillon’s face is the same, his eyes are still that remarkable mix of chocolate and rich gold, and yet he suddenly feels very dangerous.
Then the truth hits me like a sledgehammer, straight on the forehead where denial is impossible: I love this man.
This crazy, wonderful man who’s standing in front of me in a white undershirt that’s now smeared with dirt and what I’ve learned are his “good jeans.” This man who listens and pushes and knows the depths of my soul. This man who’s seen my tears and shared his own with me. This man who has become so special, the idea of leaving him makes me want to curl into a ball and scream.
And here I thought I’d wised up in the last few months. There’s no recovering from loving a man like Dillon Kyle. No tissue box large enough, no walking path long enough. There’s only one way these feelings lead . . . to a heartbreak I won’t recover from.
“Jan, you okay?”
I look away, trying to get ahold of myself. “Yeah, just fine.”
“So, did you end up going to that party after all?”
“Um . . . yeah, it was fun. Darcy got the rest of the money she needed.”
“Oh. Well, good.”
“Yes, it was.” I take a step back, then two and three. When did it happen? When did I fall in love with Dillon Kyle?
“Are you sure you’re okay? You suddenly look terrified.”
I suck in air, but I still can’t take a complete breath. “I’m fine. Just tired. I’m going to bed.”
Dillon follows me to the cabin, even though I’m rushing so much I knock over his ladder on my way up the steps.
“Hey . . . stop.” He slows only to pick up the fallen ladder and lean it back against the rail. “What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing, okay?” I choke on the words as they spill out. “I just want to be alone for a while. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” I close the door behind me, but he opens it back up.
“You know I’m not leaving you this way. What happened? Is it Cam? Did he do something?” He catches me just past the couch, his hand firm around my arm. “January . . . please. Talk to me.” There’s a vulnerability in his eyes that tears at my soul. It’s not his fault that I passed the bounds of friendship, that when I look at him now, I see only what I wish my future could be.
“He wants me to go on tour with him.”
Dillon recoils. “What?”
It’s not what I want to say, but anything else is too alarming to verbalize. “He says we never got a true shot. That we’re both different now so it could work.”
“And you agreed to that?” He drops his hands like I’ve burned them, his voice a mix of bitterness and disbelief.
“Why wouldn’t I? It’s not like I have a million other options laid out for me. I can’t live here and work at Grace Community forever.” The terror I suddenly feel is a bell ringing inside of me—an announcement that something is beginning, something’s been unleashed. I want to stop it, bottle it up just like I always do when my feelings become too big. But stopping feels impossible tonight, or maybe just impossible with him, I don’t know.
“So you’re just going to pick up and leave? Follow Cam like you did the last idiot you dated?”
And once again I want to punch Dillon Kyle in the face. “Cameron’s nothing like my ex. He’s a good guy. He cares about me and he came back. Do you realize he’s the only man in my life who’s ever done that?” I’m almost shouting, almost in tears. “Why is it so insane that I would consider going?”
“Because he’s not right for you! He doesn’t see the real you; he never has.” He cradles his head like it hurts, then violently drops his hands. “I don’t understand why you insist on settling for a partner who doesn’t know and love every part of you.”
My heart slams into my rib cage. “Because I live in the real world, Dillon! And that person does not exist!”
“Are you serious?” He throws out his arms. “I’m standing right here!”
The room goes silent. I can’t think. Breathing is all I can handle, breathing and watching him. “What did you just say?”
Dillon approaches me slowly, his voice calming to a gentle rasp. “Have you never even considered the idea of us?” His fingers gently touch my cheek, his gaze carefully watching for any indication that I want him to stop. “Because I’ve thought of nothing else since the day I met you. And no matter how many times I fought it and willed the attraction to go away, I only fell harder. And then I didn’t want to fight it anymore. I wanted you so bad it kept me up at night.”
“You never even hinted . . .”
“You weren’t ready.” His hand moves boldly, cupping my jaw, framing my ear, fingers slipping into my hair.
“But you said you had no secrets. That you were an open book, and I could ask you anything about your family or your past. But this? This is what you choose to keep hidden? Are you kidding me?”
His eyes drill into mine and there’s no apology in them. “This . . . was too important to rush. I didn’t want to be just another guy. I wanted to be the guy. The one you trusted. The one who stayed.”
I search his face for any doubt, but there is none. Not even the slightest hint that he doesn’t mean every word. And even crazier . . . I believe him.
His breath tickles the bridge of my nose as electricity rushes down my spine, barreling through every limb like it can’t get to its destination fast enough.
The sensation nearly takes me off my feet, yet Dillon’s holding me steady, his other arm wrapped tight around my waist. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hold you just like this. How long I’ve wanted to—”
His mouth covers mine, and suddenly there is no cabin or air or questions.
Like everything else with this man, kissing him is all-consuming. There’s no insecurity, no halfway, no maybes or what-ifs. He’s as relentless with this moment as he’s been with every other before now, and I’m helplessly willing to concede because I don’t want empty anymore. I don’t want surface or mindless attraction or safe. I want deeper. I want everything with him.
The release is slow, regretful, as if neither of us wants the moment to end, even though we know it must.
His forehead settles on mine; his eyes are closed, his chest rising and falling in perfect rhythm to my own. “I’m not going to give you the speech, but in case you’re wondering, I don’t do casual.”
“There’s nothing casual about my feelings for you.” My fingers play with the hair at his temple, an unusual display of affection for me, and the intimacy it brings jolts me as much as the kiss.
“Good.” And then he’s gone, and a rush of cold air hits me where his body was seconds before. I watch him as he rounds the couch, finds my purse, and begins rummaging through it.
“What are you looking for?”
“Your phone.”
“Why?”
He finds his target and holds the device up victoriously. “Because you need to call Cam and let him know you’re not going anywhere.”
I smile because it feels unbelievably good to feel so important to someone else and decide right then to start this relationship out with absolute honesty. “I can’t.”
His brow scrunches. “Why not?”
“Because it would make me look really stupid. Especially since I already told him at the party that I wasn’t going.”
Dillon comes toward me, hooks his hand around my waist, and pulls me to him. “You put me through all that panic for nothing?” He kisses my hair, right beside my ear, and I suddenly feel guilty.
“Not on purpose.” It comes out breathier than I intend, but his lips have moved to my cheek, a soft brush, barely a kiss but enough to send fire everywhere he touches. “I . . . I . . . just wanted you to see me as desirable. Not as this girl who is a mess most of the time.”
“You are a mess.” His lips trail up to my forehead, then down the bridge of my nose. “But I love that about you. I
love that you never notice the obvious. I love that you trust no one and yet found a way to trust me. I love that you make me laugh when I’m sad and you challenge me to think beyond my failures.” Our noses are a millimeter away, his mouth so close to mine now that it feels like a kiss when he says, “I love you, January. Every part. You never have to prove to me you’re worthy of it.”
He kisses me again, but I can barely respond through the sobs at the back of my throat. How is it possible that this blessing is mine? This broken, cynical girl who denied God her entire life—how could He give me so much?
I don’t have an answer to that one. I doubt I ever will.
forty-one
It’s hard to believe I’m the same girl who sat in this office four months ago, rejected and depressed. Now I face Pastor Thomas and Eric boldly, my smile no longer a lie, and my words honest and heartfelt.
“Thank you so much for meeting with me. I know you are both busy.” I rub my palms on my skirt, suddenly nervous. I blow out a breath and say a small prayer for strength. “I lied when you hired me.”
Eric shifts to the edge of the couch, his eyes intent on mine. “What do you mean?”
“I thought it was insignificant. A little white lie that wasn’t hurting anyone.” I wring my hands, amazed at how many things I had wrong. “When I came here, I thought God was a myth. A nice story to tell when life was hard. I respected those who believed, but honestly, I felt they were ignorant for doing so.” I face Pastor Thomas. “I especially want to apologize to you. You trust my aunt, which meant you trusted me, and I betrayed that trust. I’m so sorry.”
Pastor Thomas watches me thoughtfully. “And now?”
“Now?” I shrug because there is no real beginning or end to this journey. “I’m learning what faith looks like. I’m reading, mostly with Mrs. Cox but sometimes by myself. And praying, even though I still feel stupid most of the time.” His lips curl upward at that admission, and it makes my face heat up. “Anyway, I heard you just hired a new pastor to help Ralph, and I wanted to make things easy on you. Here’s my resignation letter. I know you haven’t asked for it, but it feels like the right thing to do . . . considering.” With a quivering hand, I give him my typed page of regrets. “Thank you for all you’ve done for me. I truly enjoyed working here.”
Pastor Thomas takes the letter and reads it with such slow deliberation I nearly snatch it back out of his hands. I don’t. I stay put, my legs crossed under my skirt, and accept that sometimes doing the right thing is hard.
He rubs his clean-shaven chin, then hands it back with a sigh. “I’m afraid I can’t accept this.”
My voice comes out shaky. “What do you mean?”
“I can’t accept your resignation because I just lobbied the personnel team to get you permanently hired on as Ralph’s assistant.”
My mouth opens, then closes, much like a fish in the open air. “I don’t understand.”
“Well, I believe Ralph’s words were something like, ‘If she goes, I go.’” He smiles then, leaving me more confused than ever. “You’ve made quite an impact in your short time here, January. I’d hate to see that end.”
“But I pretended to be a Christian. I took advantage.”
He and Eric exchange a look that’s part amusement and part guilt. “Actually . . . you didn’t. Doreen told us your position on faith when she approached me about the job.” His voice goes soft, soothing. “We knew all along, January. Eric and I both.”
I shake my head. “And you still hired me? Why?”
“Because sometimes it’s more about loving a person through a hard time than it is about forcing a conversion. God was going to do what He wanted to do. Meanwhile, I was convicted to use every part of this amazing ministry to show you His love.”
I’m floored. More than floored, flummoxed. Is that a word? I think it’s a word. I look down at my shoes, a guilt I’m becoming very familiar with coursing through me. “But I messed so many things up. Cameron, especially.” I look back up at them. “He left because of me.”
Pastor Thomas’s mouth gets tight. “Cameron left because he wanted to. If anything, you are why he stayed for as long as he did. That young man has his own battle with God to fight through. You can’t hold yourself responsible for it.”
My eyes fill with unshed tears. I didn’t realize how much of a burden I felt over his leaving until now. “Thank you. I don’t even know what to say.”
“Say you’ll take the job.”
My heart leaps in my chest. “Yes. Of course I’ll take the job. I love it here.”
“Okay then.” Pastor Thomas stands, so we all do. “I’ll let you break the good news to Ralph.”
I’m still not quite sure what just happened, but my cheeks hurt from smiling. “Yes, sir. I will.”
He chuckles because while he’s told me several times to stop calling him sir, I can’t seem to stop the formality. Call it a Southern thing, but sir and ma’am are ingrained in my psyche as deeply as sweet tea is.
We all file out of his office, and after discussing details with Margie, I head up to Ralph’s office, practically skipping up the stairs.
I push open his door and nearly trip on my way inside. Ralph and Victoria are wrapped around each other, hands roaming, clothes crumpled, in a kiss that could rival any romance movie.
They part like teenagers caught by their parents, and I’m too stunned to move or gawk or even worry that Victoria is going to see that her random visitor is also Ralph’s assistant.
“Jan, sorry.” Ralph clears his throat and pats down his orange hair. “I thought you were in a meeting.”
“I was,” I say, glancing between the two of them. Ralph’s face is redder than his hair, while Victoria is trying so hard not to laugh that I swear she’s turning blue. Ah, what the heck, let’s shatter the ice now. “And I see you took full advantage of my absence.”
Victoria can hold it in no longer and spits out a laugh so hearty it makes her double over. Ralph shakes his head and stares at the floor, unable to look at me. Personally, I think it’s a beautiful thing, a married couple after twenty-six years still having that kind of passion for each other. We should all be so lucky.
“So you’re the famous assistant,” Victoria says once she pulls herself together. She steps toward me and gives me a tight hug. “Why am I not surprised?”
I embrace her without hesitation. “Sorry I didn’t say anything to you that day at the nursing home. It felt too intrusive.”
When we release each other, Ralph is staring at us like we’ve transformed into headless beasts. “You two know each other?”
That brings another round of giggling.
“A story for another day,” Victoria says affectionately.
“Well, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just came to tell you the good news.” I glance between the couple, and I know my smile is broad enough to light up the universe. “I’m officially your assistant. I hope that’s what you wanted . . .” There’s an edge of insecurity in my voice that Ralph must pick up on because his brows scrunch even further.
“Absolutely.”
Victoria moves to her husband’s side and wraps her arm around his waist. “Thank you, Jan. For all you’ve done to help him.” Her lip trembles slightly, and I know that “him” means “us,” which makes me have to blink away unwanted moisture in my eyes.
“It really was my pleasure.” I look around the office that’s now tidy and organized. We put pictures on the walls two days ago, mostly of his family, and everything in here just seems brighter. “Okay, well, you two get back to whatever it is you were doing.”
“Jan,” Ralph moans, his face turning red all over again.
“See you Monday!” I save him more embarrassment and walk out the door, offering one last wave before shutting it behind me.
Dillon’s waiting for me when I exit the church. He’s leaning against my car, his eyes shielded by sunglasses.
“How’d it go?” he asks when I approach.
; “Well, they wouldn’t accept my resignation.” I shake my head. “And then had the audacity to hire me on full-time.”
He cups my face and kisses me like it’s the most natural thing in the world to do. In a way it’s become that, the two of us, an inseparable pair. “Told you so.” And he had, several times when I nearly had a panic attack on the way over here.
He opens the passenger side door and I slide in, even though it’s my car. One more sign that we’ve morphed into a true couple.
He drops into the seat and turns on the engine. “Celebratory lunch?”
I reach over and caress the back of his head, still in awe that this handsome, bullheaded man is mine. “Sounds wonderful.”
Epilogue
Her veil is fine. Stop messing with it.” My mom slaps my aunt’s hand away for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. They’ve bickered incessantly since the start of my wedding weekend, but I can’t find it in me to care. What matters is they are both here, celebrating with me as I’m about to walk down a flagstone aisle toward the love of my life.
Aunt Doreen makes one more adjustment and then throws her hands in the air. “There. It’s perfect now.”
I peer at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes are brighter than normal. My cheeks are flushed. In front of me is a girl who is no longer afraid of what’s coming next.
“Can I have a minute with January alone?” my mother asks, and I’m surprised there’s no bite in her voice.
Aunt Doreen must be surprised, too, because she nods quietly. “You have about ten minutes before the ceremony starts.” She looks at me then, and her face morphs into pride and affection. “You look beautiful, January. The most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen.”
Tears threaten my carefully applied mascara. “Thank you, Doreen.”
My aunt gently shuts the door as Mom slides a folding chair in front of me. She’s holding a manila envelope, and I can see her hands are trembling.
“I wanted to give you my wedding gift early.” As she eases herself into the chair, I swear she seems to age ten years in the process. I’ve never considered my mom fragile. Stubborn, yes. Selfish, well, most of the time, but she has never been weak. At least not in my presence.
Love and a Little White Lie Page 27
