The Preacher's First Murder (A Pastor Matt Hayden Mystery Book 1)
Page 18
“You came here to talk about my problems?” Matt asked.
“No. I came to talk about our problem.” Her smile turned sad. “Us. I came to talk about us.”
Matt sighed. “Can there be an ‘us’?”
“That’s the problem. Take my hand, Preacher.”
He did as she bid, and the simple touch sent a jolt all the way up his arm to his heart.
“There is an us,” she whispered.
“Yes.” He knew it. Had known it. “Yes, there is. But I don’t want to hurt you, Angie.”
“And I’m not in the mood to be hurt. So that’s what I’m here to say. But you’ve gotta trust me, like I trusted you.”
“What exactly am I supposed to trust you about?”
“I’m goin’ away.”
“What?” He stood straighter. “Where?”
“Ireland.”
“Why?”
“Because I have family there. James W. is making good on givin’ Pearl and me Novak money. I’ve always wanted to know my mamma’s people.”
Matt studied her face in the moonlight. Only now was he able to take the time to see how her nose turned up slightly at its tip and that her neck was longer than he’d remembered. “I’m chasing you away.”
She smiled. “No. You’re the reason I’m comin’ back.”
“When?”
“When enough time has passed.” She grinned. “Besides, you have some mysteries I want to solve.”
“Like what?”
“Like how when we were lookin’ for my mamma you said your brother was a cop in Denver, and then when we’re in front of a fire, he’s a cop in Florida. You don’t talk about your past, which for a man of the cloth is downright sacrilegious. You’ve got secrets, Preacher. I aim to find ’em out.”
“Then what?”
She grinned. Shrugged. Matt knew he was in for a heap of trouble with that look. “So this is a done deal,” he said.
“I got it all worked out. James W.’s gonna take Shadow. Dorothy Jo and Bo’ll keep the Ice House open.” Her eyes twinkled. “I’m gonna let you use my truck. James W. said your car’s a lemon.”
“He did, did he?”
“I figure you’d rather have my truck than Miss Olivia’s car.”
This time Matt laughed. “You’re right.” He sobered. “When do you leave?”
“As soon as I can get a passport. They can do somethin’ they call ‘expedite’ it nowadays.”
He nodded. So she would be gone soon, and for quite a while. Already he was beginning to feel empty inside.
Angie smiled. “You’re sad.”
Matt took both of her hands in his. “Yes.” Her hands were soft but strong, he thought, just like the woman who stood before him. He pulled her hands to his lips, kissed them gently, and was surprised to see her cheeks grow pink in the moonlight. “And you’re shy,” he said with a grin. He turned thoughtful. “There is a lot we have to learn about each other.”
“That’s what makes fallin’ in love so much fun.”
Love.
Well, if she could be strong enough, so could he. Matt stood a little straighter. “Okay. There are two things I need before you leave.” He put his hand to her cheek and tipped her chin towards him. “First.” Leaning in, looking first into her eyes and then for her lips, he gently kissed her.
Soft. Innocent. Then, not so innocent. When he pulled back, both of them took a long moment to bring their breathing back under control.
“You said two things?” Angie finally asked, her voice barely a whisper.
He let his smile come slowly. “I appreciate that you’re taking care of me—giving me time to work this all out, letting me use your truck and all, but there’s something else I need.”
She apparently caught on that he was teasing because Angie put her hand to her hip and placed a come-hither look on her face. “What else can I do for you, preacher man?”
He arched his brow and slowly leaned in toward her, this time putting his lips at her ear, making sure his breath tickled her skin. “Before you go,” he whispered.
“Yes?” she breathed back.
“Can I please have my coat back?”
At least this time her punch to his stomach didn’t knock the breath out of him. Grinning, she tossed the coat over his shoulder, then headed back toward her side of the river. The wind whipped at her hair and her stride showed just enough sass, he noted, unable to look away. As she was about to cross the Mason Street Bridge, she turned. “Wanted to make sure you didn’t forget me, preacher!”
“Oh, Lord.” He looked heavenward. “I thought you put me here to keep me out of trouble.”
Coming in November, 2016
Murder in the Second Pew
next in the Preacher Matt Hayden Mystery Series.
Acknowledgments
“Write what you know” is excellent advice. I thank the following folks for allowing me to learn from them and be inspired by them.
Dad, you were a wonderful preacher. Give my love to mom up there in heaven.
On a completely different note, I thank all my friends at Backspin in Austin, Texas, especially Brooke, Dawn and Diana. None of you are redheads (most of the time), but you all had a hand in Angie. And of course, thanks Robert, the man with the long ponytail, who is a fount of interesting experiences.
I am grateful to the Smith Point Writer’s Group of Houston, Texas. Your critiques and encouragement have allowed this book to become reality.
Ann, Anne Marie, Kay, the Other Kay, and Terri—you guys are the best. I am grateful to you and our beloved mentor, BK Reeves, for the overnight critique sessions, weekly get-togethers and incredible support.
To Regina Morris and Silkhaven Publishing, thank you for you for all of your efforts and support. You are amazing.
Finally, to my husband and daughter. I am so glad you both are patient, pushy and sometimes believe more in my writing than I do. Let’s keep on laughing!
About the Author
K.P. Gresham enjoys writing humorous cozy mysteries as well as audacious (in all its definitions) mainstream novels. Due to her quirky fixation with adventure plus the fascinating inspirations provided by members of the human race, K.P. has a never-ending source of story lines and characters. For the Preacher Matt Hayden Mystery Series, K.P. grew up as a “Preacher’s Kid” in Illinois, then married an awesome guy who whisked her away to a paradise called Texas. Both experiences put the truth into her fictional and beloved Grace Lutheran Church of Wilks, Texas. A graduate of Illinois State University and a middle school literature teacher for many years (again, lots of fodder for lots of tales), writing humorous mysteries combines her lifelong love of laughing, reading and enjoying a great whodunit.
Besides mysteries, K.P. also writes mainstream fiction. Three Days at Wrigley Field revolves around her life-long loyalty to the Chicago Cubs. In this novel K.P. explores the ends to which the Cubs’ owner will go in order to win the ever ever-out-of-reach World Series. His solution is a “Rembrandt” of a closing pitcher. Who happens to be a woman. (You were warned that it was audacious.)
K.P.’s moniker is “have story, will write,” and she hasn’t stopped writing for over fifty years! Visit her at www.kpgresham.com.
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