CHAPTER 3
Cherie wheeled-and-dealed with God on the ride to Revelator’s house in that terrifying boat. The deal was, if she didn’t die before she got there, then she’d know it was Him in a whirlwind, sending this man into her life to save her from herself. What she was to do with that man was another deal, another chapter to be considered another day.
Reaching the place alive filled her with a nervous excitement over what it meant. Not to mention the place they drove through. Seemed like she’d been translated into some enchanting swamp.
“It’s a walk from here,” the Bishop man said with that same grin. Made her feel like there was an inside joke she didn’t get or hear. Because she was it. “You remember the way, Rev?”
“I do,” he said hopping out the boat.
Before Cherie could worry how she’d exit the machine, Revelator turned and held out his arms. “Hold on to my shoulders,” he told her.
Reminding herself that he was officially God’s whirlwind, she did, and his hands wrapped her waist and hoisted her like a feather onto the dock.
“Oh boy,” she gasped, leaning over when nausea took her.
“I’ll help you bring everything,” Sahvrin said.
“Put it on the dock, I’ll do it,” Revelator said. “You need to get to your Belle Eveque.”
The man didn’t argue, getting right to it, and it made Cherie wonder who this Belle Eveque was or what it was.
“I texted her earlier,” the Bishop one said when he was done. “Maggie and Beth both look forward to seeing you again. And your new friend, Cherie. Nice to meet you again, sha,” he said, climbing back into his high-chair and strapping in.
She managed a wave, carefully straightening and eying the three bags she’d stuffed with as much things as she could while trying not to look vain. He lifted two of them and she quickly grabbed the third, not wanting to be seen as needy. She was anything but.
“Stay close,” he said, making her look around for whatever he thought might get her.
In five minutes, they rounded a corner and walked along a pier in the middle of the water toward the most beautiful little cabin. “Is that yours?”
“It is,” he said. “It’s not big,” he added.
He held two bags in one hand and opened the unlocked door. “Have no idea when I was here last, honestly.”
“I understand,” she murmured, silently marveling at everything. “This place is like something in a fantasy book,” she mused, entering the house. “Oh,” she said, realizing what not big meant now. “One room?”
“That’s all I needed.”
That solved the question she’d had about him and other women. Unless he just brought them there and made them leave. She looked around for signs of such things.
“I remember some things,” he said, making her turn.
He stooped next to a little fireplace, lighting it.
“Like what?”
He blew out a match. “I was celibate.”
Her tummy did weird at that information. Part of her was glad to hear it. It meant he wasn’t a slut. But… why did he feel the need to tell her that?
“I see things,” he reminded. “I see you’re looking around and I just wanted to tell you. I’m not like most men.”
Now she wondered why he wanted her to know that and why there was something in his tone that sounded apologetic.
“Nothing wrong with being different,” she muttered, not sure what else to say while wanting to ask if he was past tense celibate or present tense. “Not my business, really. Your life. Before or now,” she said, fishing for where his head was. She needed to know what he wanted or expected from her. What did helping her look like in his book? His celibate book. No sex would be the most obvious non-requirement. Was that why he told her that? So she’d know it wasn’t on the table? Wouldn’t that be a strange thing. Not having to worry about every little thing he did, or she did, and what it meant in the sexual department.
He walked around opening the small curtains on the windows until natural light filled the space. “You like it,” he said, or observed.
“I really do,” she admitted, back to taking in the cocoon of polished brown wood. “It’s just so…homey and warm feeling. You just can’t keep from smiling at all of it.”
“Thank you. I can make coffee.”
He said it like a person who never got company. “I would love some coffee,” she said, walking to the small fireplace and sitting in the single chair next to it. “You sit here often?”
“I do when I’m here. Read the Bible there.”
She half watched as he removed his jacket and hung it on the crooked tree beam that was part of the island. It was easy to measure everything about him in that white t-shirt. He filled it perfectly. She was right about him not being bulky or scrawny. If there was a perfect middle, he was it and then some. Thick and cut. He didn’t pump iron, but he definitely pumped something. She was sure the celibacy thing kept back her usual cringe reflex that happened around perfect men like him.
“So you…are a preacher?”
“Nah,” he muttered, setting things on the island. “I preach mostly to myself and travel the swamp. See what I can see and do whatever I feel the Lord wants me to.”
She nodded a little, watching his arms as he poured coffee beans into the top of one of those hand grinders. “So…no official church.”
“Only the swamps,” he muttered, seeming taken with his coffee task. “Animals are all my parishioners.”
She smiled at the idea, really liking the man he seemed to be. She eyed the fire for a moment then looked around. “Where’s the bathroom?”
“Door behind me,” he said while turning the handle and producing a grinding noise.
She made her way over, needing to watch him up close. She sat on the little stool across from him. “A real coffee grinder,” she muttered, smiling.
“Yes ma’am, it is.”
She smiled at the ma’am.
“You still find that funny.”
“Yeah, but I kind of like it too.”
His blue eyes flashed up at her and he paused his grinding, staring at her.
“What?” She reached up and patted her hair. “Mercy, I must be a mess from that hell-ride here.”
He lowered his gaze and returned to grinding. “You’re not a mess.”
Great. She was already screwing up. “I talk a lot,” she remembered. “It’s a bad habit when I’m nervous.”
He was quiet as he turned the handle slowly, making her worry more as she devoured the flex of his muscles from the simple task. “Sorry I make you nervous,” he finally said.
She realized he might be thinking the same about himself. “Oh, it’s not you, it’s me. I’m prone to think the worst. I mean I assume people are thinking the worst of me.”
He removed the drawer on the grinder and reached over with it. “Smell that.”
She leaned and took a slow whiff, smiling with her eyes closed. “That smells so good.”
She looked at him, catching his small smile and nod as he sniffed. “These are Revelator coffee beans. I grow them. They may be famous in the swamps.”
“You grow them? Wow, I am so impressed.” She smiled more at glimpsing a different side to him. More relaxed and at peace. More handsome. “Well, don’t keep me waiting, I have to taste this miracle.”
“I’ll heat the water,” he said, seeming excited to share his craft.
He picked up a kettle and went to the fireplace, hanging it on a hook over the fire. He was like a human work of art and she couldn’t stop admiring the masterpiece. And he was celibate. Which meant safe. But it was also a sad, sad waste of a perfect man.
“I made a deal with God on the way here,” she said, wanting to fill the sudden silence.
The intense look he leveled on her when he straightened made her heart jerk around in her chest.
“Making deals with God is…a big thing.”
At hearing it was to him, she got nervous.
“What kind of deal did you make?” he wondered, moving the foot stool for the chair to the side and sitting. “Come sit,” he urged softly.
She made her way over, hyper aware of her every imperfection around him. She remembered his question and sat in his chair, feeling silly and foolish. “Kind of embarrassed to say.”
“Don’t be.”
His gentle but firm words should’ve calmed her but the three-foot space between them caused the opposite. “Just that…I would see you as God’s deliverance if I made it here alive.”
His laugh surprised her. That he did and how amazing it sounded and beautiful it made him. He scrubbed his face with his hands, and she measured those too. Long fingers. Thick. Strong looking. “I remember that boat,” he muttered, staring at the fire. “I was thrown from one when I was eight years old and was terrified to ride in them ever since.”
“Oh my geeze,” she muttered. “Were you hurt?”
“Couple of scratches. God had me in his hands is all I can say, but I never did get over the fear. Still have it to this day when I get on one. And…I make my own deals with God when I do.”
Her stomach loosened at hearing that. “I can’t believe you flew off of one. Were you not strapped in?”
“I was until I wasn’t. Undid my belt for a couple seconds to get my little carved alligator toy and the man hit a buried log, and I went sailing. I can still remember waiting for the tree I’d hit but it never came. Landed in this random patch of grass floating in the swamp.”
“Wow, God did have you.”
He nodded. “He did.” He turned those eyes on her. “Just like He has you.”
The sudden rush of emotions his words brought up surprised her. She stared at the fire, wiping the tears before they could fall. “Guess so,” she barely managed. “So you don’t think my deal was stupid?”
He stared at the small flames with his forearms on his knees, fingers steepled together. “Not at all. Kind of glad you prayed it.”
“You are? Why?”
“Because…I prayed you’d realize I wasn’t here to hurt you but help.”
“Wow,” she whispered. “We like… tag team prayed.”
A hint of a smile played at his lips. “Tag team prayed.” He looked at her and she couldn’t turn her eyes away even when it was time to.
“The scar bothers you?”
“What? No, not at all. That’s not what I was looking at.”
“Hard to miss,” he said.
“Hard to notice, really. That’s…the God’s honest truth,” she added, his stare making her words too breathy.
“Hard to notice,” he muttered, lowering his head, shaking it.
“I’m not lying.”
“I know you’re not,” he said softly. He also sounded amazed. That she wasn’t lying or that she didn’t notice the scar?
“I put that scar there with the piece of glass you saw in my wallet,” he said.
Her jaw dropped at that news. “Why?”
He stared at the fire. “These looks have been nothing but a curse to me. Every woman I met fell in love and…I wasn’t the marrying type. And this one particular woman…Jeanette. Sweetest woman you’d ever meet. She fell really hard and…” he lowered his head. “She took her life when I rejected her affections.”
“Oh no,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
He looked at her, maybe not expecting those words. “Why are you sorry?”
The genuine question stumped her. “That…you suffered that.”
“I’m not the one that died from it,” he said. “And this cut did nothing. It’s like the scar doesn’t even exist.”
He was dead right about that. If anything it complimented his looks somehow. “I’m sorry anyway. For the pain of that. You can’t help how you look, trust me, I get what that’s like.”
His curios eyes found her, and she nodded. “Here in Breaux Bridge, I must have free sex on my forehead because every man I meet tries to get that from me. I can’t help how God made me. Some blacks think I’m not black enough or I’m trying to be white because my nose is too small or my lips, or how I fix my hair. But I didn’t do anything to make that part of me that way, God did that. And some white people, men mostly, think they’re still master and me being black makes me their property to do whatever they want with.”
He looked away, his face getting hard like it did when he dealt with her landlord she realized. “Now, see, I think that’s your sexiest face.”
The snap of his gaze gripped her insides and she explained, “That look you got when I told you about those white men. That’s my favorite look.”
He gave his stare back to the fire. “You like the look of murder on my face then.”
“It’s been a long time since I saw a man wearing that look for me.”
He was back to staring her down. “Who else?” he wondered.
She smiled at the blatant challenge in his tone. “My dad.” She eyed him, still grinning. “You seem ready to beat somebody up.”
She regretted the words when he turned to the fire, seeming troubled about something. She wished she knew what so she could help. Wouldn’t hurt to assume the best with him. “Only you’re a lot cuter than my dad.”
He stood and went to the island and returned with a small silver coffee pot and setting it on the stone floor before the fireplace. He used an iron tool from the mantle and lifted the kettle off the hook and set it next to the pot.
She decided not to have an elephant in the room. “You’re not good with compliments, I see. I definitely understand that. Anytime I get them, I assume they’re for all the wrong reasons.”
“I remember I was very good at avoiding contact with women.”
“Because of…what happened?”
“Yes.”
“Well, don’t worry, I don’t think you’re that cute. Come to think of it, that scar is a little hideous.”
The grin he gave over his shoulder made her laugh. “Thank you,” he muttered.
“Strangest thankyou I’ve ever gotten but…hey. A first time for everything.”
“I mean for…understanding.”
“Oh I definitely understand what it is to be gorgeous and beautiful. I can’t escape the never-ending stares, it’s truly exhausting. Being perfect is a true burden.”
His grin got so huge she could hardly think around it. “Wow,” he finally said, lowering his smile. “Never dreamed I’d meet somebody who understood what that’s like.”
God, how funny he was. He eyed her as she laughed and laughed.
“What?” he wondered.
“You’re so funny,” she said, wiping her eyes. “But in a really good way.”
“How?”
At hearing his sincere confusion, she shook her head, amazed. “Your ignorance is truly bliss. Nobody’s perfect, Revelator.”
“Samuel,” he said. “That’s my real name.”
“Samuel.” She liked that name. “You prefer I call you that?”
He took a seat on the stool next to her again. “Please,” he said softly. Coupled with the soft in his gaze, it tickled her tummy.
“Okay, Samuel. Like I was saying, nobody’s perfect.”
He nodded his lowered head. “Perfection is a perception. What one thinks is imperfect, somebody else might find perfect.”
What was he saying to her? “I’m not about to fish for compliments but I’m also kind of wanting to know how I measure up to you.”
He looked right at her now. “Everything you have no control over is surely perfect to me.”
Her jaw dropped while excitement made her sick. “That’s ridiculous to even suggest.”
“Why?” he wondered, the furrow in his brow implying she was the strange one.
“Because there’s plenty of obviously imperfect things on me.”
“You’re surely free to have your own opinions just as I am.”
Why did she need to challenge what he said? Why not just take the ridiculous compliment? “I surely am free to see my flaws and be okay with all of them.”
“You are.”
“You don’t have to be perfect to be beautiful. Not that I think I am, I’m just saying.”
“And I agree.”
“With what part?”
“That you don’t have to be perfect to be beautiful and not all perfect things have to be seen as beautiful either.”
“Now you’re deliberately confusing me.”
His laugh was hard not to smile at but when he added those blue eyes on her, it put an end to the cute humor.
“And really,” she said. “It’s a half-ass observation if you haven’t seen all of what is being judged. But finding a non-celibate man to see that is where it gets tricky. And I’m pretty tired of looking and hoping and being wrong. It all comes with a cost.”
He moved onto his knees before the fire. “You’re safe here,” he muttered, turning with her cup of coffee.
She nodded and took it, the brush of his fingers making her breath catch. “Thank you. I can use a safe place for a change.”
He went to the kitchen and started putting things back in order. “You wanna shower before we go?”
Her stomach turned at remembering that thing. “Do I have to?”
He looked at her. “Shower or go?”
“Go.”
“We don’t have to.”
She remembered those women who wanted to see him. “You have to go see some people?”
“No,” he said. “I don’t have to.”
“Well…if you want to go meet them, I’ll be fine here.”
He put his palms on the counter, eyeing her. “I don’t want to meet them,” he said, making her wonder why he’d reassure her of such a thing.
“Do you want me to go?” she asked, remembering he might have a preference to consider. “Not sure why you would, but—”
“Yes,” he said. “I want you to come. But I surely won’t make you.”
“If you want me to come, I want to go.”
“I want you to come,” he reiterated.
She stood and glanced at her bags. “I’ll need to get ready. How much time do I have?”
“How much time do you need?”
She swallowed, torn with needing a lot of time and not being seen as vain. “Thirty minutes?” God that wasn’t enough time.
“Take an hour,” he said. “I’ll get dinner while you get ready and put it on before we leave.”
“Okay. If I finish early, I’ll help.”
“Sounds like a plan,” he muttered, grabbing a black hat off a peg and slipping it on. He glanced at her, and she realized she was just standing in the middle of the floor, staring at him. He was an eye trap.
“If you need anything, I’ll be outside. The bathroom is pretty self-explanatory but if you have questions, let me know.”
Yeah, that wasn’t happening. “Thank you. I’ll finish my coffee and get to it.”
He actually tipped his hat to her then turned and headed out. Mercy, mercy, mercy, what a delicious man. She was back to thinking he was part of God’s atoning plans. Make her live with a man of her wildest fantasies and not let her have him. She was ready to wheel and deal again. She’d be more than happy to suffer the torture of that if in the end, she might actually have at least a taste of that kind of heaven.
****
Revelator made his way to his fish traps at the back end of the pier, wondering why he told her about the celibacy. Because he didn’t realize she’d think he was still celibate. And why wasn’t he still celibate? That was easy. Her. As clearly as he remembered his celibacy, he clearly knew she was the end of it. He didn’t just want her, he craved her. Like a man’s soul craved God. Wasn’t something you could stop or should even try to and he didn’t plan on it.
But… how was he supposed to let her know that when he’d just said she didn’t need to worry about that with him? She didn’t, but with the kind of trauma she’d suffered meant fear came with the territory.
And his years of inexperience were biting him hard. He had no clue how to go about this. And as much as he hated to, he might have to call his good friend Bishop for hints. At least her attraction to him was unmistakable. He’d never let himself endure that from a woman and it had proven to be an unexpected enjoyment allowing her eyes all over him when she thought he wasn’t looking. He’d never wanted to know what women were thinking when they looked at him like she did, but with her he wanted every detail.
And her insecurity was a trap he could easily fall into. He could sit there for hours complimenting her just to watch what it did to her. She tried to hide it, which he liked. If she thought he was celibate, she should hide that. It meant he was right about that goodness he saw in her. Innocence stolen and trampled on. Nothing he couldn’t resurrect and there was no reason he could think of why he shouldn’t have fun resurrecting it.
He remembered she was in his shower and paused, allowing himself to imagine such a thing. The instant heat flooding his body staggered him. Wow. So powerful. He’d need to be careful. Was about as potent as kill urges whenever they hit him.
He pulled a trap from the water, finding it as full as expected. He released all but four fish and headed back with dinner. He’d put rice on and let it simmer with the fish and wild vegetables while they were out.
The first thing he confronted upon entering the house was the new smells. She’d brought her feminine scents and his body let him know just how much he liked them. He heard the shower turn off and his mind got curious until every part of him burned with questions. He didn’t need to see her to know she was perfect. But he did need to confirm it with his eyes. And hands. He paused, considering. And his mouth.
The strange ideas had him feeling lost in his own mind and body. He could surely tell he’d been celibate because there wasn’t a single memory to help him in this.
He really needed to tell her he wasn’t celibate anymore. Before he took her out in public.
“I’m almost done,” she called from in the bathroom. “Although…I have to admit having no mirror made this a challenge. Never put makeup on and fixed hair with a compact mirror.”
Damn, he never once thought of that. “I’ll get a mirror,” he said, realizing it would be the first time he had one in his home.
“As if! No need to change anything on my account. At ease, soldier.”
At ease, soldier. He really liked her. But he’d get that mirror. “I’ll take a shower when you’re finished.”
He got all the food prepared and on the fire when the bathroom door opened. He turned even though he’d told himself he shouldn’t stare and make her think the wrong things about him. But once his eyes were on her, all logic and caution got syphoned from his brain.
“Wasn’t sure what kind of event it was. Am I underdressed? I can put on something a little more formal.” Before he could figure out how to get her to turn so he could see every angle, she did a little spin then returned to her original position with a breathless, “Well?”
“It’s perfect,” he said, turning his attention to the food hanging over the fire while catching his head and breath. Perfect no longer worked for her. She filled those jeans like God filled the Heavens and the Earth with his glory. And the white top she wore flowed sensually and innocently and yet provocatively with how it hung off her shoulders.
“Perfect, huh?”
He was hoping she’d catch that. “Yes ma’am,” he added, wishing he could say everything in his mind about it. Her backside was surely his favorite. Big? Fully perfect more like.
He was finding himself in a fix with her now. She felt safe thinking he was celibate, and he needed her feeling safe. If he was suddenly not celibate, what would that do to her security?
Seemed like he needed to give it a little time before he let her know how he felt about her. If she didn’t figure it out before that.
When it came to selecting his clothes, he found himself torn between his two selves. Did he dress like a celibate preacher or a normal man? He’d go with normal. Since it was obvious she was attracted to him, maybe he could just wait for her to be comfortable enough to cross that line on her own.
That was the answer. Let her come to him and take what she wanted. Hopefully she took everything because that’s what he’d given her, even without a prayer.
He finished his shower and decided a black t-shirt and jeans was about as normal as he could get. Bishop wore such things. He’d wear his black leather boots and fedora hat since she seemed to like it. Or maybe he’d ask her. Nothing wrong with getting a woman’s opinion.
“Oh,” she said from his chair near the fire when he exited the bathroom. “Don’t you clean up nice.”
“Was trying to change my wardrobe to just a little less preacher looking.”
“Well, I’m afraid there’s nothing you can really do about your stud good looks, so, no point in trying to hide what the good Lord gave you. The women will just have to drool.”
He grinned, eying that cute sassy look on her face. “I won’t be looking so it doesn’t bother me.”
“Now what is this thing we’re going to again?”
“A Bat-tie.”
“Like the card game?”
“Bat-tie means fight in French.”
“We’re going to a fight?” she asked, parting those perfect lips. “Like a cock fight?”
“No, like a human fight.”
Her face screwed up. “Are you talking about boxing?”
He chuckled, putting his hat on and heading toward her. “No, it’s a swamp tradition. When two people can’t agree on something, they fight over it. We call it Bat-tie.”
He smiled at her scrunched up face. “People do that?”
“They do in the swamp. You ready?”
“Uh, yeah, let’s go. Should I bring anything? A purse?”
“Not really. I have money if we need it. It’s about a thirty-minute boat ride from here. I have bug repellant in the boat.”
“Ohhh yes, we’ll need that.”
They walked along the pier side by side and a feeling had never been stranger to him. And yet perfect.
“So, who am I to you?” she asked, as they got to the boat.
“A friend?”
“Okay. But usually people assume things when you say a friend.”
He climbed in the boat and held his hands out to help her in. “I hope I don’t hurt your back.”
His laugh shot out as she put her hands on his shoulders and he helped her into the boat. “Light as a feather,” he assured, taking her hand and helping her sit. “You good?”
“Perfect,” she said, making his muscles pulse in excitement.
“Indeed,” he muttered, moving to the back of the boat and starting it.
Five minutes into the ride, she asked, “So was there ever a girl you did like?”
He kept his gaze on the waterway before him. “Yes.”
“Ohhh, and did she know you liked her?”
“No, I don’t think she did.”
“Did she like you?”
He raised his brows at her. “Do alligators like water?”
This made her laugh which had him grinning. He loved seeing her laugh, she was breathtaking when happy.
“You poor stud.”
He nodded, agreeing.
“So you didn’t tell her?”
“Nope.”
“So how old were you?”
He barely shook his head. “Couldn’t tell you.”
“Were you young?”
“In many ways, yes.”
She nodded, framing her face in her palms with a smile. “You poor thing.”
He smiled. “Then what’s so funny?”
She gave a huge laugh then bounced her brows at him. “Maybe I’m happy nobody got you. Then who would have saved me from myself?”
“Agreed,” he said. “Was the Lord’s good timing.”
“I’m not gonna lie, if you weren’t celibate, I would be all over you. But don’t worry, I know how to be respectful of a person’s preferences. You don’t need to be scared.” She gave a big laugh at that, allowing him to grin.
“Good to know. I never liked fighting off women.”
“Well, if you have trouble, I can help with that. Maybe I’ll Bat-tie them all off.”
“Or maybe they will think you’re a special friend and leave me alone.”
She shrugged with innocent eyes. “I can play a role, now,” she said. “Just don’t get too fresh or I might knee you in your celibate balls.”
Bon Dieu, he wouldn’t mind her trying. “I know how to behave.”
“Well, you’ve only had umpteen years of practice. What about these women that are wanting to be in your grill?”
He grinned, shaking his head. “In my grill?”
“You know, in your face. I heard the Bishop man mention one girl wanting to see you. She like you?”
“No, she likes another.”
“Ohhhhh?” she wondered, suddenly curious. “Is this the one you liked?”
“Not the one, no. She’s a new friend who is gifted.”
“Gifted?” She fought with her hair, pushing it behind her cute ear. “How so?”
“She can see. Like I see.”
“And she wants to see you?”
He shrugged. “Not sure what Maggie wants to see.” He was glad he no longer felt the things he had with her, though.
“She has a man?”
He nodded. “She does.”
“Good,” she muttered, looking to the right.
“Why is that good?”
“Well, one less bitch I have to beat off. Gotta protect my celibate savior.”
“Where have you been all my life?” he wondered, getting that laugh he craved.
“Getting into all kinds of trouble.”
He let himself look at her profile, seeing that innocent girl he intended to resurrect. “Well, all your troubles just met Revelator.”
She gave him the sweetest smile and he almost missed his turn. “We’re here.”