Page 8 of Bucked By Love

Loren’s cheeks are pink like a cherub’s. He hastily accepts the prized belt buckle and cameras flash and snap for him.

5

CLAIRE

That Sunday, I slouch back in my seat, letting my hair hang long down the back of the pew. Pastor Jones croons on, his voice deep and muted. I listen instead to the light clang of the wooden kneeling stool hitting the stone floors. I hear Riley move around behind me, settling into a kneeling position. He bows his head forward, and I can almost feel him, only inches away. There’s a delicious tug on my scalp as he starts his work, weaving one strand through the other into a tight, neat braid.

“It wasn’t fair,” I whisper, keeping quiet so only Riley can hear me. “Loren didn’t win. You did. I saw it.”

There’s a tug on my scalp. A cross. Another tug.

“Life ain’t fair,” Riley replies, his voice an equally soft murmur. “But it can be fun, if you let it. I had fun. All that matters. Sweet of you to care about me, though.”

A heat climbs my neck. “I don’t care about you. I care about…justice. And fairness. And following the rules.”

He snorts. “Spoken like a true Belleflower Queen.” I try to take it as a compliment, but his words have a bitter edge I can’t quite put my finger on.

“We have one more announcement before the end of the service,” Pastor Jones tells everyone. “Will Mr. Preacher and his daughter, Claire, approach?”

I stare at Daddy, shocked. He doesn’t even look at me. He simply stands, making his way to the short platform.

I should be used to people staring at me by now. As a member of the Preacher family, I’m practically Belleflower royalty. But my legs get weak and my body begins to tremble as I follow Daddy like a duckling.

I can’t help it. My gaze goes to Riley.

His study brown eyes meet my own. He gives me a wink.

You’ve got this.

I take a steadying breath.

Back straight. Chin up.

We approach the podium. Daddy puts his hand on my back, positioning me to face the entire congregation.

“As you all know, my daughter, Claire Preacher, has worked tirelessly to prove herself as an exemplary model of grace and elegance. Which is why, as her father and as a member of the Benefactors Society, I’m proud to present her with a Belleflower Promise Ring.”

My throat feels as braided as my hair. Tightened and twisted into knots.

“As you know,” he continues, “in Belleflower, our promise rings hold a unique meaning. Young women anointed with the Benefactors Society Promise Ring have been selected for their elegance and are in the running for future Belleflower Queens.”

He then kneels. He’s level with my gaze now. “Do you understand that, if you accept this ring, you’re accepting the challenge to potentially rise to the level of future Belleflower Queen, and all the responsibility that entails?”

“Yes.” My voice is weak. I need to strengthen it. I clear my throat and repeat: “Yes.”

“Do you promise to be studious? Do you promise to be pure? Do you promise to honor your community?”

He’s reciting a shortened version of the commandments. I recognize it immediately. My face goes hot with purpose.

“Yes,” I repeat. Over and over.

He pulls out a velvet box from his pocket. He opens it, unveiling a perfect, diamond ring.

It shimmers in the light. Just like a crown.

“Above all,” Daddy says, his voice a low, intense rumble: “do you promise to be perfect?”

I stare at the ring.

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