Page 139 of Those Who Are Bound

He shifted in the chair, the question itself squirm worthy. “No offense, but it’s not my thing.”

“It’s not my thing, either.” He looked even more curious, so to head off any relationship questions—like, why was she dating a preacher if his gig wasn’t of interest—she stated the obvious, “You’re looking for work.”

Nodding, his gaze shifted back to his styrofoam cup, as though he was embarrassed. “That’s why I’m down here enjoying this awesome see-through coffee.”

There was something about him… something that reminded her of her brother, and it tugged at her heart. Based on absolutely nothing other than instinct, she asked, “Did you serve?”

He glanced at her briefly in surprise, then nodded, “Yes, ma’am.”

“So did my father, while he was alive. And my brother. The event space—my brother built that.”

He nodded, still not giving her his full attention. “Where is your brother now?”

Elliott paused before she answered, “He’s one of those statistics.”

There was little response other than a glance her way that was full of understanding and a hint of defensiveness. He looked away again as quickly, not saying anything.

She understood the reaction. There had been a flash of sympathy mingled with the defiant glance. He wasn’t being an asshole. He was relating too much for comfort. She pressed on, moving past the moment, for both of them. “Look, I need a general handyman at the property; fixing things, lawn maintenance, security. I don’t know what you’re looking for here.”

He looked at her, more engaged than he had been, perhaps realizing that she hadn’t sat down just to chat with him. “I mean, I can’t operate a backhoe, but I can fix shit.”

Elliott laughed. “I don’t want you to operate a backhoe. I just need general maintenance.” She cocked her head, waiting for him to respond.

“I can do that; I’ve gigged as a general contractor. I’d like to get my license, but it’s expensive.” He looked shocked to have admitted it, then embarrassed. Rushing on, he added, “So, I mean, yeah, basic stuff, sure.”

“Great. But if you’re holding out for a stellar paycheck, I can’t give you that. I can make up for it in room and board, not that it’s fancy, but it’s an on-site job. You’ll get a paycheck, but it won’t make you a rich man.”

He asked suspiciously, “Will Pastor Jonah be okay with me living with you?”

“Notwithme, but on the property. And his name’s Jonah.”

An impish grin peeked out as he glanced over her. “I’ll keep calling him Pastor, if you don’t mind; it reminds me who he is and why I should behave.”

“Iwill remind you why you should behaveifI decide to hire you,” Elliott said imperiously, raising an eyebrow.

The grin vanished. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Just so we’re clear on that.” Yep, like her brother. Cheeky thing. “But I need to ask you something first.” Because Becks was going to be all over her about it anyway.

He waited, guarded.

“This program… what did you do that qualifies you to be a part of it?” That was the nicest way of asking how he’d run afoul of the law.

He scratched his nose and answered, “I get angry.”

“And what did you do?”

“Angry shit.”

Elliott chided, “Now isn’t the time to get cute.”

He nodded once. “It was a fight. I walked away, the other guy didn’t. He’s alive; he started it, but he’s laid up for life. I got taken down for it.”

“How often do your fists swing?”

“As often as they need to,” he answered quickly. He caught himself. “But only in self-defense.”

“Have you ever hit a woman?”

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