Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
I turn around, and there stands Pastor Jordan, looking gorgeous as always. Just my luck. Even though I’ve just been crying, my heart immediately starts racing because he’s unbelievably handsome here in the gloom of the church. He’s wearing casual clothes: dark wash jeans with a white button up shirt. The white fabric highlights his bronzed skin, and those blue eyes sear me like lasers. I go hot all over. Oh my god, it’s scandalous being so attracted to my pastor, but what can I do? I’m not dead, even if I am a little beaten down at the moment.
Unfortunately, I’m also a full-blown mess currently. I was just crying and my eyes are likely puffy; my cheeks are probably red; and my hair a mess. I know men of the cloth are used to seeing people at their worst during times of need, but why me?
I’m just embarrassed.
“Um hi,” I manage in a stilted tone.
“Is everything okay?” he asks with understanding in those blue eyes. “It sounds like you could use someone to talk to.”
I twist my mouth, not sure if I want to spill all of my emotions right now. After all, Pastor Jason probably has more important stuff to deal with than my stupid girl-on-girl bullying.
“Um, I don’t know. I don’t want to bother you.”
He smiles gently.
“It’s no bother at all. I’m here to help. That is if you want some help. Care to talk about it?”
I take a deep breath. Maybe it’s not such a bad idea to discuss my issues with someone. After all, keeping it bottled inside isn’t going to do me any favors, and aren’t pastors trained to care for a flock? I’m about to tell the pastor what’s going on, but then the church door opens and some people walk in. My mouth zips right up. They’ll probably overhear my confession, and maybe they won’t be judgmental, but I don’t want to take that chance. I’d rather not have my business floating around the church.
Pastor MacKinnon sees where I’m looking. He observes the small group of people and then turns back to me.
“Why don’t we go back to my office? We’ll have some privacy there.”
I take a deep breath, hoping I look normal.
“Okay.”
I get up from my seat and follow him to the back where the church offices are. I’ve never been back here before, and we pass through a narrow, wood-paneled hallway with several doors on the side. Then we reach one in the back, and Pastor Jordan turns the metal knob, giving me entry.
The office is large, but it’s not imposing. Instead, it’s comfortable with a huge mahogany desk on one side, and a seating area in front of it. A dark blue rug covers the floor, and there are walls of bookshelves covering the room.
Oh gosh. I love books but right now, I force myself to look away because it’ll just be the two of us, talking, across from one another. I have to keep it together. Then, the door shuts and we are well and truly alone.
Jordan sits in his chair and looks over at me, smiling. Everything about him is insanely good-looking: his blue eyes, his jet-black hair, and those incredible broad shoulders. He could be a model if he wanted to.
“What’s your name?” he asks. My eyes widen at the very normal question.
“Mira, my name is Mira,” I manage to stammer.
“Mira, that’s a lovely name. Is it short for anything?”
“Miranda.”
“Very nice,” he responds. “So Mira, why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you?” I lick my lips, my mouth suddenly feeling dry. It might be due to the fact that my whole body has gone up in temperature. I mean, I am alone in this small room with one of hottest men in existence. What should I do?
Pastor Jordan waits expectantly, his gaze patient. It’s like he’s trying to get a read on my soul. But at the same time, being here is so intense, and I squirm a bit under the pressure. There’s nowhere for me to go, and I’m stuck here explaining my problems now.
“Um,” I begin. I don’t know where to start and Jordan grins at me.
“It’s okay if you’re a little nervous,” he says in a deep tone. “It’s always hard opening up to someone and we’ve just met. Although, I have seen you at sermons before.”
I blush.
“Yeah, I’ve been coming to the Village Church for a few months now. Most of the time, I come with a friend and I also really enjoy the services.”
He smiles.
“I’m glad because my co-pastor and I work really hard on those. Do you feel comfortable here? In the church I mean?”
“Yeah, of course,” I nod. “The Village Church is the first place that felt like home when I moved to New York.”
He nods.
“Yeah, I thought I heard a bit of an accent. Where are you from?”