Page 102 of A Surefire Love
His lips met hers in a kiss that should’ve turned her inside out. He was warm and solid and steady and deliberate, and she was hiding something from him. The kiss broke, and he studied her.
She smiled, but did it fool him? “Exclusive,” she said.
He held her gaze another moment before he shifted away and rolled up his sleeves. “What can I help with, Blaze?”
Heaviness tainted his voice. After how close she’d cometo asking him to call her Jen, the use of her name stung like a paper cut.
She put him to work peeling sweet potatoes. She got out the baking pan they’d roast the vegetables on, then started slicing onions—her least favorite part of cooking, but she couldn’t very well give him the worst job after all that.
“Tell me about Rooted?” Anson asked.
“I gave my talk like we planned.” Her knife sliced through the end of the onion and clicked on the cutting board. “Since I kept it mostly limited to the garage fire and the church fire like we planned, the kids asked about Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. I offered the option of starting games right away or reading about the fiery furnace. They chose reading, so we spent an extra fifteen minutes on that. I figure since the kids chose to extend what was supposed to be a five-minute talk, Eric can’t complain if he hears about it.” She finished slicing the first onion and tipped her head away, trying to clear the sting from her eyes.
“Sounds like you did a great job.”
Notthe best you couldor agoodjob—a great job. As soon as the satisfaction settled in her chest, it sank. Would he compliment her if he knew what she wasn’t saying? If he knew Mercy had slipped by her and spent an entire night out on her own doing who knew what?
She returned to slicing. “Did missing it drive you nuts?”
“I knew the kids were in good hands.”
Another compliment. Blaze sniffed and wiped her wrist over her watering eyes. The onions stung, but knowing how little she deserved his approval hurt worse.
“Here. Let me.” He took the knife from her. His hand on her waist guided her away from the cutting board. By the time her eyes cleared, he’d cut the whole onion.
She washed her hands, then picked up where he’d left off with the sweet potatoes.
“I went to the community center.” His knife scraped against the cutting board as he swept the onions onto the waiting pan. “The Newsome boys showed up.”
“Speaking of things Eric might complain about.”
“They said their mom knew where they were. I think something’s going on with them that they’re not saying.”
“With Eric and Samantha?”
“With the boys.” He rinsed the knife, then dried his hands. “I told you about Dylan acting weird when he caught up with me after practice that one day.”
“He said it was because he and Carter sent you a text from Eric’s phone.”
He picked up the sweet potato. “Does this get sliced too?” When she nodded, he returned to the cutting board. “Now they say the inspector believes the fire originated from the Christmas Eve candles. Someone lit them in the sanctuary. I don’t doubt Eric would talk about that in their earshot, but the boys have been in the thick of it since the night of the fire. And Dylan called his dad a bully tonight.”
She paused peeling. Even his family would say such a thing? What was Eric like to live with?
Anson dropped the sliced sweet potato in the pan, turned toward her, and waited until she met his solemn blue eyes. “I told them about Gury, hoping they’d believe me that some secrets do more harm than good. They were stunned, but not into talking.”
She gaped. “You told them?”
“I’ve thought a lot about what you said.” He stepped nearer, taking the peeler from her hand so he could intertwine their fingers. “About how I shouldn’t keep him a secret.I’m going to start talking about him more in general, and when and where God calls me to, I’ll tell the part about the secret I kept for him. The time seemed right with Carter and Dylan.”
Could he possibly understand what a compliment it was that he’d listened to her? She’d only made the suggestion to keep the focus off herself and her secret.
“I was hoping they’d spill whatever they’re hiding.” His thumb caressed the side of her hand. “Carter actually looked like he might, but Dylan got antsy and insisted they had to go.”
She still held the potato in her left hand. A sane person would put it down to concentrate on this vulnerable, caring man sharing his heart. Her grip around the vegetable tightened, and she resisted turning fully toward him. “Who do you think is hiding something?”
“Both. But who has more at stake? Hard to say.” He released her hand and returned to the cutting board with another potato. “Dylan acts suspiciously, but I don’t imagine Carter would come see me for nothing. He might’ve been along to make sure Dylan didn’t blurt out anything incriminating.”
That sounded like her watching over Mercy. “What are you going to do?” Her voice sounded shrill. She picked up the peeler and worked quickly, hoping the noise of it might distract from her tone.
