He stopped at an empty pew. “Sarah’s family takes up the whole row, so we always sit behind her.”
“Hello, Miss Davis.” Carter flashed a smile and squeezed past, following his brother into the pew.
Foreboding clenched Jaye’s stomach. If both boys were here, a larger Blake lurked nearby. Unwilling to stomach another uncomfortable run-in like the one in the restaurant three days ago, she turned to make a quick getaway.
Mitch stood a few feet away, his blue eyes locked on hers.
Pain perforated her heart.
In a flash of insight, she understood why her parents stayed so closed off. Feeling nothing was better than enduring this jagged agony. Seeking a safe place to rest her gaze, she looked at the boys. They were wearing khaki pants and dark suit jackets, like Mitch.
Brody grinned. “You can sit with us.”
Carter perched on the pew, swinging a pair of legs that were not quite long enough to touch the church’s hardwood floor. “We’ll be quiet.”
Quiet was the least of her worries. Sifting through her brain for a valid excuse to leave, she looked at Mitch.
Tension bracketed his mouth. His dark blue eyes searched hers for a long moment. Opening his hand, he gestured toward the open spot beside the boys.
In the aisle, people bottled up behind Mitch’s artist-trapped-in-a-linebacker’s-body. Jaye couldn’t claw her way out of the church without making a huge scene, so she entered the pew and touched Sarah’s shoulder.
Sarah turned and gave her a warm hug. “You made it!”
Jaye curled into the pregnant roundness of her friend’s body and murmured, “I had no idea Mitch went to your church.”
“Every Sunday.” Sarah chuckled.
“Is that why you invited me?”
“What else could I do?” Sarah whispered. “I’ve been trying to get you two to talk, but nothing worked.” She patted Jaye’s back. “Go easy on him.”
“You’re asking a lot,” Jaye growled.
“What better place to forgive than in church?” With one last squeeze, Sarah released her.
Jaye sat and tucked her navy skirt under her thighs, not bothering to unbutton her blazer. Cold apprehension wrapped icy shivers around her arms. At least, her wool blazer would hide the goose bumps.
Mitch settled beside her.
In her peripheral vision, she could see the sharp crease running down his trousers. She squeezed her knees together so her thigh wouldn’t touch his. This close, she could smell the minty scent of his soap. Judging by the clean plane of his jaw, he’d given himself a close shave before heading to church. He looked agonizingly handsome.
Her stomach ached like she’d eaten a handful of shattered glass for breakfast.
“My father said you convinced him to read my proposal. Now he wants me to expand our product line.” Mitch’s hand curled into a fist, the broad row of knuckles a scant half-inch away from the seam running along the side of her black wool skirt. “Thank you.”
Gratitude was the last thing she expected. She managed a gentle nod.
A loud organ chord reverberated through the sanctuary and everyone rose. Mitch opened a hymnal and tilted it toward her.
Jaye stood on wooden legs, heart-wrenchingly aware of Carter’s off-key voice to her right and Mitch’s absolute silence on her left. Caught between the boy who was too naïve to pick up on her tension and the man who made her wary as a doe on the first day of hunting season, she couldn’t sing one note. The best she could do was pray for the strength to sit through the next forty-five minutes without breaking into a panic attack.
After what felt like an eternity, the pastor approached the podium and encouraged everyone to sit.
If today’s sermon was crucial to her salvation, she was doomed to spend her afterlife in a studio apartment smack dab in the middle of Hades. Not one word of the pastor’s message filtered into her brain, for she was too intent on not touching the man beside her.
He didn’t seem to share the same ambition. His solid leg bumped hers when he handed Carter a worship program. His arm brushed across her shoulders when he reached along the back of the pew to nudge Brody out of a sudden case of the wiggles. Worse of all, his hand touched hers when he passed the offering plate, filling her with unholy memories of what that hand could do inside her jeans.
The congregation stood for the benediction. Spying a chance to escape, Jaye squeezed past the boys, darted through the throng of people chatting in the center aisle, and strode out of the church.
Setting a brisk pace along the sidewalk, she headed for her car like it was the last train out of Hell.
A big hand curled around her elbow. “I want to say something, Jaye.”
She recognized the urgent possessiveness of that grip and jerked her arm free. Donning an expressionless face that would’ve made her mother proud, she unlocked her car with the remote. “There’s nothing left to say.”
“I can think of two things.” He remained an arm’s length away. “I’m sorry for acting like a cretin the last night we were together.”
A cretin? The strong term caught her off guard. Staring blankly, she watched a deep flush creep up Mitch’s neck in slow motion and knew he referred to that night in the hot tub when the trust they’d built evaporated in a hot flume of steam. I won’t believe a fucking word you say.
Her insides froze like an old computer. No matter what command he tried, she didn’t dare open herself up to someone who refused to listen to her. “What’s the second thing you need to say?”
Above the crisp collar of his white oxford, his Adam’s apple bobbed in a deep swallow. Pinning his gaze to hers, he stilled like the barren oak standing beside the church—big and stark and silent.
The wind blew, wiping the frown from his face. His hand twitched, moving briefly toward her before plunging into his suit pocket.
“The website
