Page 23 of Rocky Mountain Devil
Jeff looked slightly uncomfortable. “I didn’t realize. Sorry.”
His distress vanished almost instantly, and he offered another one of those “reassuring” smiles. The kind Rafe remembered seeing far too often on people who hoped to get something from him. The guy was going to be disappointed if he was barking up that tree.
In the meantime, Rafe wasn’t about to turn down the offer of a free meal.
He popped the lid off his coffee cup and drank deeply, letting the scalding-hot liquid sink into his system and take the edge off his annoyance. He unwrapped one of the bacon-and-egg sandwiches, and Jeff did the same, and the two of them sat quietly, eating, drinking and eyeing each other.
Finally it was too awkward to stay silent any longer, even by Rafe’s standards. Might as well satisfy some of his curiosity.
“Where’re you from?”
“Toronto. Lived there my entire life—my father is the senior pastor at the Central Baptist Church.”
Ahhhh. The plot thickened. “Following in your father’s footsteps, I take it.”
Jeff smiled proudly. “Don’t most sons?”
Buzzzzzzzz. Wrong answer. Rafe reached for another sandwich, balling up the wrapper and tossing it into the open box he was using as a garbage bin before answering. “Some. Some set their own path.”
The other man hesitated before nodding. “We all have to do what we’re called to.” He found his stride, straightening and looking Rafe in the eye. “That’s part of why I’m here.”
The caffeine must have hit Rafe’s system. He was awake enough to deal with this strange situation. “If you’re looking for information about the church, I’m afraid I can’t help you. My mom’s a member. While I have no beef with any of you in particular, it’s not really my thing.”
“I’m not here to talk to you about the church. I’m here to talk to you about Laurel.”
Of course he was.
“Awesome woman, isn’t she?” Rafe leaned back in his chair and took another long drink as he watched Jeff closely. “Me and Laurel, we go way back.”
Jeff dipped his chin briefly. “She mentioned you while we were at college. Said you were pretty much the best friend she’d ever had.”
Wow. Rafe wasn’t sure what surprised him more. That Laurel had been talking about him at Bible school, or that Jeff had admitted it. Only it wasn’ttheirpast that was important right now.
She hadn’t been happy when she’d spotted Jeff yesterday. Rafe circled the wagons and put up as much protection as he could. “That’s part of the reason why us being together now is so perfect. We’ve got all that history.”
There was a pause as Jeff played with the empty sandwich wrappers in front of him. “Yes, well. The Bible says that when we’re young, we think as a child, and speak as a—”
“If you don’t mind, Pastor Lawson, let’s skip the Bible recitations.” Rafe folded his arms over his chest. “Like I said, I’ve got no beef with the church, or with the Bible, but if you want to talk to me, I’d prefer the words coming out of your mouth were your own.”
Jeff seemed shocked by the request, but he gave a quick nod then gathered his garbage together and put it in the now-empty bag. “Why don’t we go do some work while we keep talking? That might make the conversation flow a little easier.”
He’d obviously forgotten the part earlier when Rafe had said it was his day off, but hey, if the man wanted to volunteer as free labour? Rafe was not about to deny him the privilege.
“Sure. Just let me pull on my boots.”
“Oh, and call me Jeff.” The man followed Rafe toward the door. “Pastor Lawson is my father.”
Rafe jammed his feet in his boots and his hat on his head before pulling the door open for his guest. “After you,Jeff.”
Out of the tasks he might have picked to inflict on the man, the first one that popped to mind was all sorts of wrong. Temptation was far too strong, and Rafe grabbed a scythe from the shed along with a rake before marching them up to the front of the drive.
He turned and assessed the man. “You comfortable working with the blade, or you want me to do the cutting?”
“I’m good for whichever.” Jeff’s chin rose as if this was a challenge he wasn’t going to fail. “Just show me a few practice swings so I can see how it goes.”
Rafe swung low and hard, letting the weight of the sharp blade do most of the work. The green stalks of thistles with their massive purple heads fell in batches as he mowed about him with the scythe, stepping in an easy rhythm, arm held stiff against the cool metal handle. “It takes a little getting used to, but I’m sure you can do it.”
Jeff accepted the tool, his arm dipping slightly at the unexpected weight. He took a first swing, and the leading edge caught at a bad angle, dragging the scythe to a halt, tangled in the thick stalks.
