Page 16 of Maid in America

But he wasn’t offering for the Lord. It was Stella that weakened him. His Gam-Gam had sacrificed so much over the years for his comfort. She asked for so little. A few hours of volunteer work felt like the least he could do to repay her.

Pastor Erikson swatted Barrett hard. “When can you start?”

“Let me get with my new boss and check my work schedule.”

“Do you have a business card?” Maggie asked.

“No, not yet.”

Grabbing a pen and a program from the morning’s sermon out of her giant purse, Susan offered them to Barrett. “Here. Write down your phone number so they can call you.”

“Thanks, Susan. You’re so…helpfultoday,” Barrett said through gritted teeth, hurriedly jotting down his digits, hoping his messy handwriting would be too difficult to decipher.

He handed it to Maggie and smiled. “Hopefully, it’ll work out.”

Another untruth.How many times would he be forced to lie in God’s house in one morning?

“Perfect.” The pastor waved at a cluster of stragglers approaching from behind. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to discuss some things about the new children’s wing with these fine folks. Lovely seeing you all.”

As Barrett’s dress shoes crunched halfway across the dead grass, he whipped around to Susan and glared. In a half-scream-half-whisper, he growled, “What was that?!”

“What?” Susan shrugged, oblivious. “It’s a client, ain’t it? You’re welcome!”

5

Chastity’s rainbow-striped hair wasa matted mess against her pillow. The faint memory of all that had been done to tangle it the night before brought a smile to her sleepy face.

Her body ached, remembering the stranger from the bar she’d gone home with, the man with abs you could scrub a load of laundry on. The man with the perfect jawline and the effortless tan who knew the perfect way to curl his fingers to get her to scream his name.

She remembered the faint taste of bourbon on his tongue, the feel of his calloused fingers manipulating her barbells, the sharp sting of his spankings…

She sat up and grabbed her laptop, wiping sleep from her eyes as it booted. Moments later, her fingertips hammered away at the keys, mind whirling with questions.

Now that she wasn’t in college, could she stay here in Jackson Hole, where so many people knew she was an Erikson?

Could she start fresh somewhere new, somewhere no one suspected she was a pastor’s daughter?

At the sound of the door opening, she tore her eyes away from the screen. The door cracked a few inches, and her mother silhouetted in the searing beam of light pouring in from the hall. Chastity looked at the time and grimaced.

1:03 p.m.

Fuck.

“Chastity? Honey, are you decent?” Maggie asked through the crack.

Chastity set the laptop aside. “Debatable.”

Maggie stepped in and smoothed her dress. “Honey, your father and I heard you sneak in at four in the morning. Got a great shot of you doing it on the Ring camera, too, in case you would like to try to deny it.”

“No need.” Chastity shrugged. “I thought I was an adult. I didn’t realize I had an imposed curfew.”

“You do. Same as before you went off to college.” Maggie stood in silence for a moment. “You must’ve been exhausted, seeing how you slept through both of today’s services.”

Chastity snorted and wiped her eye with the heel of her hand, smearing last night’s eye makeup to her temple. “Oh darn. Did I miss another ‘pray away the gay’ sermon? Or was Dad too busy telling horny teenagers to practice celibacy? Newsflash: kids in junior high are banging each other like bunnies.”

Maggie cocked her hip. “Stop talking aboutbanging.”

“Speaking ofbanging,” Chastity mocked, adding more emphasis to the word than needed, “You just walked in like that? What if I had a guy in here? Or better yet, agirl.”

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