Page 138 of Those Who Are Bound

She was enthralled, engrossed, watching him. To be fair, she’d be mesmerized watching Jonah fold a paper airplane. The way he moved, his gorgeous eyes that sparkled even to the back of thesanctuary…

A tap on her arm had her jumping out of her skin. She’d been absorbed. Turning her head, she looked down at the older gentleman next to her. He was trying to whisper something to her. Holding up a finger, she glanced toward the front.

Although still speaking, Jonah was watching them. She removed her earbud, absently noting his confused frown before turning her attention to the man next to her. “I’m sorry, what?”

He gestured to the seats. “You need to sit down.”

Elliott grimaced. Dang, she didn’t know that was a rule. “That’s okay, I’m not staying.” Straightening off the wall, she gave Jonah an exaggerated look of apology, then beat a hasty retreat.

“Where are you going?” Liam was right there, startling her.

Jumping again, Elliott slapped a hand over her heart. Was he here to throw her back in? A worship bouncer? Sidling away from the door, she answered, “It wasn’t my scene.”

“Really? Because Pastor Jonah is super popular; packs them in.”

Elliott playfully elbowed him. “The ladies find Jesus on Pastor Jonah days, huh?”

He looked confused. “Everyone does.”

Fair point. Because even though she wouldn’t be inspired by anything he said in this setting, he was a natural leader. And she was definitely inspired by the visual show and her own soundtrack.

But, again, that wasn’t why she was here. She’d stepped into the massive room to satisfy her curiosity, not to hear the words being spoken. She asked, getting to the reason for why shewashere, “Can you point me in the direction of the jobs program?”

Liam looked like he understood her now, and he turned sympathetic. “I can. Have you spoken to someone about it? Do you know the requirements?”

Elliott squinted. “Lucy Moore. She told me show up and to interview—”

“Oh! Oh, Lucy!” He gave her a once-over. He looked relieved, as though everything now made sense. “You’re… and Lucy… Yes! We love Lucy. But, yes. Go down those stairs, to the basement. There are already a few people down there, but more will show up after service.”

That quickly, she was one of the cool kids. Or he thought she needed a job. It didn’t matter. She needed someone who needed a job, so win-win.

Pocketing her earbuds, she went down a level as instructed. This level appeared to be classrooms; she needed to go down another set of stairs to the basement. A few tables were occupied. Large round plastic tables were set up; eight chairs each. Toward the back of the room was a long table where a couple of women stood, setting out doughnuts, cookies, and coffee cups.

Elliott beelined for the coffee and helped herself. The women were obviously curious about her, but they didn’t strike up a conversation. After shoving a dollar into the donation box, she turned to survey the room.

Besides herself and the women behind her, there were seven other people in the room: six were already in conversation. The seventh was sitting by himself, slouched down in his chair, styrofoam cup on the table in front of him. Small movements pushed it from hand to hand, as though sitting still wasn’t an option.

He wore khakis anda thin dress shirt that barely covered his neck tattoos. His bald head was by choice—she assumed—because he was young. Her age. Walking over to his table, she stood behind the chair next to him. “Fancy meeting you here.”

His hazel eyes lifted from the cup, up her body, pausing on her breasts before finally looking at her. He blinked; no recognition.

“You don’t recognize me?” she asked.

He looked at her breasts again. “Surprised as you are about that. You can introduce yourself again.”

Sighing, she pulled out the chair and sat down. “If you looked at my face for more than half a second…”

He smiled; it made him look like an ornery kid. “Thought you wanted me to recognize you.”

“Nice. Anyway, I’m Elliott. You worked at an event at my place a week ago.”

He searched her face. Recognition slammed home, and he straightened in his chair, his demeanor shifting. “Right. Pastor’s girl.”

Elliott startled at the association. Well… did she correct him? Would it make it awkward? Was she Jonah’s girl? Thepastor’sgirl? Not knowing how to address it, she ignored it. “Elliott will do.”

He jerked his chin in acknowledgment. He was watching her curiously. “Why aren’t you up there listening to your man?”

“Why aren’t you?”

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