Page 101 of A Surefire Love
Mercy turned to Blaze. “Did you see?”
Blaze shook her head. She’d made the mistake of taking her eyes off him. She’d glimpsed this side of Anson at youth group but had never watched him tease her sister.
“You have to believe me,” Anson said. “I didn’t do it. Here, I’ll put them away for you.” He held out his hand.
Mercy narrowed her eyes. “No way.” She plopped the cards in the box, jammed on the lid, and covered the whole thing with her forearms. “Try getting more of them from me now.”
Without taking his eyes off her, Anson pulled a stack ofcards from his back pocket and flicked the whole thing into the air behind him.
As they fluttered to the ground, Mercy’s laughter filled the room. It expanded into spaces inside Blaze she hadn’t realized were empty.
She and Mercy hadn’t spent a lot of time enjoying themselves. Mostly, they bounced from damage control to disaster response and back again. They really needed to make more time for fun. Who’d have thought serious Anson Marsh would remind her of that?
He asked Mercy questions about her day as they finished packing up the games. The plastic bag crinkled when he moved the cilantro to check beneath it for pieces. Tonight was just one more example of how he cared for Blaze and every member of her little family. And she … Did she love him for it?
They’d come a long way since their first meeting. And maybe someone who’d come that far with her could be trusted with the truth about Mercy. Except he was still Anson, and she was still Blaze. He’d be compelled to report Mercy’s suspicious behavior and rumors—if not real, court-appointed consequences—would devastate the Astleys again.
They finished putting away the cards, and with more laughter, Anson stacked Mercy’s arms full of everything that would go back in the game tote downstairs. She tottered away, as though the load prevented her from bending at the knees.
Anson turned to Blaze, humor still lighting his face. “Rooted went well?”
She nodded and motioned him to follow her to the kitchen. “Mercy and I always go to the meal Philip andMichaela host at The Depot. I have to make a sweet potato and onion tart to share.”
“You’re like my very own cooking show.” His fingers skimmed her back.
“I’ll put you to work this time.” At the counter, she ran her finger along the ingredient list. “We can make two so you can take one to your parents’ house.”
Anson’s hand settled on her waist. “Or we could make one, and you could skip The Depot to join me at my parents’ house.”
She turned her back on the recipe to face him. “That’s ….” She meant to write off the offer as impulsive, but the interest in his eyes held hers. Her voice faltered. “You want to introduce me to your parents? Now?” She shifted backward and bumped the counter. “I mean, we’re not even exclusive.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Oh?”
She cleared her throat. “Isn’t meeting the parents a big deal?”
He boxed her in with one hand braced on the counter on either side of her. “You are a big deal to me.”
“But meet-the-parents big?” She rested her hands on his chest, mostly because he hadn’t given her many other options. “You once said you chose me with your heart, but you don’t have to throw logic out the window.”
His eyes narrowed.
She smoothed her hands over said heart. “Have you even told your parents about me? You don’t want to give them heart attacks by suddenly being like, ‘Hey, remember Many Oaks’s town drunk? I’m dating her daughter.’”
“I would never introduce you that way, and if they knew of your mom, I guarantee that’s not how they thought of her. Weren’t you telling me to assume the best about people?”
She dropped her gaze to his chest as embarrassment poisoned her air supply. She’d also told him to share the whole truth with people.
“As for the head versus heart thing, you’ve captured my heart, and logically, you help me follow Jesus better, so we make sense both ways. But ultimately? I don’t want to follow my head or my heart. I follow Jesus. He loves you. The way I see it, I’m just following His lead.”
Love? Sparks lit across her skin.
With a fingertip, he drew a line from her forehead, across her temple, and down her cheek, until his hand rested on her shoulder. He toyed with the hair at the nape of her neck. “Let’s be exclusive.”
Heat shot through her. She’d have stumbled backward in surprise if not for the cabinets. “Sure.” Her voice wobbled.
“Sure?” He tilted his head, scanning from her eyes to her lips and back again. “That’s all the enthusiasm you can muster?”
Yes, because her amazement floated on a pool of regret, and at the bottom of that lay her secret. For that to stay hidden, she had to do better. “I’d love that.” She rested her fingers against his cheek, relishing the textures of skin and stubble.
