A Surefire Love (The Many Oaks Romances #1)

Chapter 1

Pain had cascaded through generations of Astleys. Now at the helm of the family, Blaze would stop the flow, even if it required her to face Anson Marsh on his home turf.

The cross protruding into the sky from the church served as a reminder that Blaze ought to feel as welcome here as anyone else—Anson included—but nervous energy flickered in her stomach as she parked.

The sprawling building half-encircled the parking lot.

Abundant windows, blank and straight-edged, stared out at her.

Blaze pulled her keys from the ignition of her twenty-year-old car and smoothed her hand over the leather steering wheel. Belying her luxury sedan’s age, the gleaming black paint and throaty growl normally acted as a portable confidence booster. One that wasn’t quite cutting it today.

“You’ve got this.”

Heat licked her cheeks. If she had this—or anything else—under control, she wouldn’t have had to set three alarms to ensure she left work when necessary to arrive on time. But for Mercy’s sake, she couldn’t cower now.

She pushed open her door and stepped into the August heat. Insects hummed in the cornfield next door while vehicles whooshed along the highway.

She fixed her eyes on the cross and forced her feet onward.

As she neared, the glass door reflected her black jumpsuit.

Maybe the stylish outfit was too much for Many Oaks, Iowa, where folks were about five years behind on trends.

If Anson didn’t already know what he was dealing with, the clothes hinted at the truth about her.

She was somehow too much and not enough all at once.

The door swung open, and the administrative assistant motioned her into the building. “He’s in his office.”

“Thanks.” Blaze crossed to the carpeted hallway. Her heart kicked faster the closer she came to the door with a placard that read Anson Marsh, Youth Pastor.

After a strangled attempt at a deep breath, she tapped on the door. The blond wood swung open, and she found herself eye-level with the hollow at the base of Anson’s throat, framed by the collar of his dark blue polo.

Pulse stuttering, she took a half-step back. His jaw and cheekbones cut distinct lines, but full cheeks and a round nose kept him from looking severe. His blue eyes held hers with startled attention, as if she’d surprised him.

Odd, since she’d made an appointment.

A corner of his irritatingly perfect mouth hooked upward, breaking the awkwardness. “Blaze. Right on time.”

She straightened her shoulders. “Thanks for seeing me.”

“Of course.” He abandoned the door and lowered his six-foot-four frame into the leather office chair behind the desk.

He hadn’t invited her to sit, but she took the seat across from him and twirled a lock of hair around her finger.

Anson’s attention moved to her hand. She dropped the berry-colored tip of her long dark locks.

She might not have chosen a red-tinged balayage if she’d known this meeting loomed in her future.

Anson met her eyes. “You wanted to talk about Rooted?”

“I’d like to help.”

His eyebrows notched closer together. “With the middle school youth group?”

She gave a single, firm nod. “As a leader. I heard you were shorthanded, and Mercy is starting middle school this fall.”

Anson tapped his thumbs together. “Didn’t you get a new job? You sure you want to put more on your plate?”

She smiled as though her promotion at Triumph Automotive was going as smoothly as she’d dreamed it would. “You have your job here, and you coach the basketball team. Those are bigger commitments than my job and youth group once a week.”

“Not if you factor in your side gig. And Rooted meets Wednesday nights.”

One of the nights Blaze sang with the house band at The Depot. “My boss says family’s the priority. We can shift our Wednesday performances to Thursday.”

“The whole band can make that change?”

“The Signalmen are supportive.” At least she hoped they would be. She’d only consulted Philip, her boss.

Anson frowned, and it couldn’t have been because of displeasure about her role with The Signalmen. In a few hours, he’d no doubt occupy his usual Monday-night table at the restaurant and music venue. He must just be disappointed she’d eliminated another obstacle between her schedule and Rooted.

She touched the edge of his desk and forced enthusiasm into her voice. “Hey, with the switch, maybe you can catch even more of our shows.”

Color rose on his cheeks. Was he embarrassed to be a fan?

A barb pricked her heart.

“I have leadership board meetings on Thursdays.” He leaned his elbow into an armrest. “You’re pretty serious about this.”

“Of course. Like I said, I heard you were shorthanded.” Hopefully he wouldn’t ask for details about how she’d heard. Eavesdropping, even accidentally, was probably a sin. She reached for a piece of hair and twirled.

“Is this related to what happened during the service project?”

Blaze froze. She had hoped volunteering would solve the problem without having to confront the issue directly.

“The kids were supposed to stay in pairs.” Anson spoke evenly. “I sent Mercy and Anna to get a mop from the supply closet, but only Anna came back. She said Mercy had to use the restroom.”

Check, check, and check. Blaze’s little sister had said the same things. But at some point, his retelling would diverge from Mercy’s. Blaze held her breath.

“Because of the buddy rule, I sent a couple of the girls to find her, only Mercy wasn’t in the restroom. I found her with some of the high school boys in the gym.”

“With is a strong word. She was by the bleachers, watching them shoot hoops. She said none of them even noticed her until you started shaming her.”

Anson’s mouth popped open. “Shaming her?”

The word did sound extreme, but the memory of Mercy’s tear-stained face pushed Blaze to continue. “She cried for an hour that night.”

He lifted his palms. “I asked if she heard the buddy rule.”

“In front of the older boys. Then you asked why she left Anna.”

“A reasonable question.”

“Except, by your own admission, Anna had already informed you it was to use the restroom.” Tension arced between her shoulder blades. “Mercy was mortified. She’s eleven and sensitive, and the boys laughed at her.”

“If they laughed, it was when I pointed out she wasn’t in the bathroom.” Defensiveness edged his tone.

“So you admit you said something to poke fun at the situation. You made a spectacle of her.”

“I stated the truth to address the incongruence, not to make a joke. The buddy rule protects the students, and I wanted her to see that she didn’t need to go off on her own.

She never even made it to the restroom, so it clearly wasn’t an emergency.

She had plenty of time to return with Anna, tell a leader, and take a partner with her.

The whole thing could’ve been avoided if she’d followed the rules. ”

“It also could’ve been discussed privately and gently.”

He settled back in his chair, assessing her. Such broad shoulders ought to be able to bear responsibility, but she knew how this worked. Unless she shifted the blame off of him, he’d never let her onto his team of youth leaders.

Tapping into the same skill that allowed her to control her voice when she sang, she calmed her tone and added sweetness.

“You were in a tough spot. There aren’t many leaders, so individualized attention must be next to impossible.

As a leader, I could take some of these small situations off your hands. ”

His head tilted ever so slightly. “Meaning you’d prefer to handle Mercy yourself.”

Had he always been this direct? Words he’d spat at her years ago echoed through her mind. Yes, he had.

She lifted her chin. “I would.”

He nodded once. “Your sister is just one student. Being a youth leader is about a lot more than keeping one kid in line. It’s about creating an environment where all the kids can learn about God and grow closer to Him.

Leaders need to set a good example and be ready to engage with the students on questions of faith. ” He lifted an eyebrow.

Inadequacy stirred in her core, but she managed to keep it out of her voice. “And which of those do you think will be a struggle for me?”

A frown played on his too-handsome face. “I just want to make sure you understand what you’re volunteering for.”

“My faith is important to me, and I wish I’d been exposed to the gospel much sooner. It would be a privilege to offer kids real hope.”

“I’m sure you do understand the importance of that, given all you and Mercy have been through. But …” Anson rubbed his mouth. “Mercy doesn’t seem to be coping well.”

The statement hit like a physical blow. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve heard from her Saplings teachers that she was a handful. Talking out of turn, not memorizing her verses, not following instructions. But then”—he shrugged, mouth tipping—“she’s had it rough. Your mom was sick for a while before you lost her, wasn’t she?”

She clenched her jaw. Mom had been sick as long as Blaze had known her, but Anson was likely referring to the liver failure that had taken her in the end, not the alcoholism that had haunted Mom as far back as Blaze could remember.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” His voice softened. “I can’t imagine what it was like for Mercy to lose her Mom while she was so young. Having her half-sister take over as her guardian must’ve been an adjustment.”

As if Blaze hadn’t been Mercy’s primary caretaker most of her life. As if the fact that they had different fathers made them less connected. The anger boiling in her belly dropped her tone to a warning. “You think she’d have it better with our mom?”

Anson lifted his hands in a gesture of innocence. “No.”

What did he know about their lives? She’d been a fool to think she could offer her help and he’d do something as simple as take it.

She jolted to her feet. “For the record, the last four years have been the most stable of our lives.” Her voice shook. “Mercy is doing great. It’s time to reassess how you’ve labeled us.”

She wouldn’t be sending Mercy to Rooted. She might shop for a whole new church. She pivoted to leave.

Anson beat her to the door in three long strides. “I didn’t mean to say you weren’t doing a good job with her.”

“Yet you didn’t commend me on doing well either.”

“I’m sure you’re doing the best you can.” Despite his kind tone, he’d again pulled up short of a compliment.

Tears brimmed in her eyes. Her hate for them only spawned more. “I’m sure you are too.” She shouldered past him and hurried out.