A Heart to Heal (15 page)

He shook his head and turned back to the Reverend, wondering when he developed such an interest in women's fashion. “Shayla Monroe volunteered?”

“Not quite, her mother signed her up last Sunday. But surprisingly, she called the next day and asked how she could help. She seems excited about the fall festival.” The reverend watched her cross the room and nodded his head. “I know some people don't care for her ways, but it's not my place to pass judgment. Besides, what better place for a lost soul than surrounded by church folks?”

Devin looked back at Shayla who smiled. Someone on the outside would never know their last encounter ended in a shouting match. She walked over and shook hands with Reverend Jenkins.

“Sorry I'm late. I lost track of time at the library.”

Reverend Jenkins shook his head. “You're fine, we haven't gotten started. What were you doing at the library?”

She shrugged. “I haven't called to install cable or internet at the house I'm renting. I go there every day to search for a job.”

“Any luck?”

She smiled. “Still waiting, but I've only been at it for a few weeks.” She finally looked at Devin. “Hello, Devin.”

“I'm here with my dad,” he said, and then wanted to slap his forehead for sounding like an idiot.

Her smile brightened. She looked toward the table and waved her fingers at Roscoe sitting with a huge slice of cake in front of him.

Reverend Jenkins motioned toward the rest of the group. “Let's get started.”

“Great,” Shayla said.

Devin followed them to the table. Greetings were quick; the group only consisted of eight people. Besides Reverend Jenkins, his wife, Roscoe, Devin, and Shayla, one of the deacons — Mr. Porter, the owner of Shayla's rented house — was there. He scooted his chair in the opposite direction when Shayla sat next to him. Martha Taylor, the children's choir director smiled tightly and gave Shayla a stiff nod. Devin's receptionist Anna smiled at Shayla, but threw him a warning look.

Thankfully, Reverend Jenkins went directly into plans for this year's festival before the lukewarm greetings became more awkward. Devin tried to pay attention as the reverend went over discussions for the trunk-or-treat, where church members offered candy out of the back of their car, and games for the children. But he found himself paying more attention to Shayla than anything else. She smiled and nodded whenever the Reverend looked around the table for affirmation of his ideas, typing notes on her iPad. It was surprising to see her so interested in helping with something her mom signed her up for.

Volunteering didn't seem like it would take much effort. From the way the meeting was going, Reverend Jenkins told them what he wanted and the rest of the committee agreed. The reverend was ready to assign duties when Shayla raised her hand.

“I had some ideas of things we could add to the festival.” She spoke clearly and with confidence that perked up many of the eyes that had dimmed during the reverend's speech.

Reverend Jenkins pursed his lips before nodded. “Okay, what were you thinking?”

Her shoulders relaxed slightly before she slid her finger across the iPad. Devin leaned forward after she stopped and looked back at the reverend with a smile.

“I looked up the names of a few local bands that we could bring in to perform.”

Martha Taylor shifted in her seat. “Bands? We don't need no secular music playing at a church function. The children's choir can sing like they always do.”

Shayla held up her hand. “Let me clarify, I'm talking about young adult Christian bands. There's this one that specializes in Christian rap, I watched a few of their videos on YouTube today. I think the younger kids in the church would really like it.”

Martha rolled her eyes. “Noise. And an excuse to get some young kids in here with their pants sagging to their knees. No, we don't need them.”

Shayla cocked her head to the side, but her smile didn't waver. “It's not noise and it's not a group of kids with sagging pants. You probably have a lot of little kids coming to the festival with their parents for candy and toys, but do the teens come out? This would be a way to draw then in. You can also have a signup sheet to start a Christian hip hop choir at the church. That way they'll continue to come.”

Mr. Porter scoffed. “This is ridiculous. Our church isn't a club.”

Reverend Jenkins held up his hand. “Wait a second. That isn't a bad idea. We don't have a lot of teenagers in our church. And you've said yourself, Deacon Porter, that we need more young men in the congregation.” He looked at his wife. “What do you think?”

Mrs. Jenkins stared at Shayla for several seconds before nodding. “I like it. What other ideas did you have?”

Devin suppressed a cheer when Martha and Mr. Porter both sat back frowning. He did look across the table at Shayla and gave her a reassuring smile.

She blinked, uncertainty flashed in her eyes before she looked down at her iPad. He'd forgotten they were not on the best terms.

She lifted her head and met his eyes. “I'm glad Devin is here, he'd be perfect to handle my next idea.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What's that?”

“A health screening during the festival. You know, blood pressure, diabetes screening, body mass index.”

Anna spoke up. “This isn't a health fair.”

Shayla nodded. “I know, but it may be another way to draw people in. Everyone in town knows Devin, and trusts his decisions–”

“Not all of his decisions,” Martha said under her breath.

Roscoe slapped the table. “I'll have words with anyone who has a problem with anything my son does. I trust his judgment,” he looked at Shayla, “in everything.”

Reverend Jenkins held up a hand. “No need for all that. I agree with Shayla. This would be a good follow up to my sermon last month on taking care of our bodies as temples to God. Anything else, Shayla?”

Her smile widened, and Devin watched with a mixture of pride and desire as she outlined ideas for drafting a press release for the festival, how they can apply for the Christian rap group to attend their event free of charge, and ways to market the festival to neighboring towns. Despite the enthusiasm of Reverend and Mrs. Jenkins, Martha and Mr. Porter staunchly argued against every point Shayla made, which Devin and his father helped counter. Anna stayed relatively quiet throughout the rest of the meeting, her shrewd gaze going between him and Shayla.

Thirty minutes later, the meeting ended with Reverend and Mrs. Jenkins excited about the new direction of the fall festival. Martha and Mr. Porter quickly left, followed by Anna. Reverend and Mrs. Jenkins continued to talk with Shayla about her ideas for the festival. Devin followed his dad behind the basement's kitchen counter where Roscoe cut a few slices of cake to take home.

After piling a plate with almost half of the remaining cake and covering it with a paper towel, Roscoe turned to Devin. “You ready to leave?”

Devin tore his eyes from Shayla to his dad. “Yeah,” he glanced back at the trio. “Y'all have a good night.”

Reverend Jenkins held up a hand and Mrs. Jenkins smiled and waved. Shayla glanced at him briefly before looking away. Disappointed, he turned and followed his dad to the parking lot. They walked to where their trucks were parked beside each other. When he got to the driver's side of his truck, he turned back to the basement door of the church.

“You can wait on her to come out,” his dad said.

Devin turned away from the door. “For what? Every time I'm around her I say the wrong thing. I'm not used to this. I'm the one who's supposed to have it together.”

“Says who?”

Devin laughed. “Well, it's what everyone thinks. But, when it comes to Shayla, I just don't know … ”

His dad leaned on the hood of Devin's truck. “Does Shayla ever talk about her daddy?”

Devin frowned. “No, why would she?”

Roscoe shrugged. “I thought maybe she had when y'all were younger. That man slept with half the women in town, but for some reason married Shayla's mom before sleeping with the other half. He left the family when Shayla's mom was pregnant with her brother, but before that, he carried her everywhere. Showing off his baby girl, and telling everyone she looked just like him and was gonna be a heart breaker just like him. So, that's what everyone believed.” Roscoe eyed him shrewdly. “I know half of the story of what happened between you and Shayla in high school.”

Devin staggered back. “Why didn't you say anything?”

“I figured if you wanted me to know, you'd come to me. It was easy for people to think she was taking after her daddy. Her mom doesn't help, always reminding everyone that she's just like him. That's why I always tried to be nice to her, show her there were people who cared. She's used to people dumping stuff on her. Don't be another person putting pressure on her.”

Devin tapped his chest. “I don't pressure her.”

“Don't you? Quit trying to figure her out, and don't act like you ain't. You've been studying her since y'all were young. You can't figure women out, especially complicated ones. Be easy, take your time, let her talk. She'll reveal what's going on in her head a whole lot faster that way than if you keep on trying to unravel her like a medical mystery.”

The basement door opened. Devin turned away from his dad. Shayla froze when she saw them. Her smile was wooden when she looked at Devin, but warmed when she looked at Roscoe. He let his father's words sink in as she crossed the parking lot toward them. The late afternoon sunlight reflected off the brown highlights in her hair. The same way the morning sunlight reflected off it when she'd lain across his bed as they'd made love. He welcomed the memories of that morning, tired of trying to suppress them as he had over the past week.

“It was good to see you, Roscoe,” she said. “Thanks for having my back in there.”

Roscoe walked over and gave her a hug. “Not hard to have your back when you got good ideas. ‘Bout time someone shook up things a little.” He glanced at Devin. “Devin needs to talk to you.” He glared at Devin. “Don't you.”

Devin looked away from his dad to Shayla. She avoided his gaze, instead focusing on the front of his truck. Her hands nervously patted the side of her leg. It struck him that she could easily stand up to the scrutiny of others, but when it came to him she seemed unsure. Did his opinion really affect her that much?

After moments of silence, her eyes finally met his and his heartbeat picked up. To hell with what people thought, he wanted Shayla Monroe. And it was time to get past all of the bullshit and make her his.

“I do,” he said.

She should run. Get in her car and drive one hundred miles in the other direction. Anything to prevent her heart from turning further into mush after Devin and his father sided with her in the meeting. It had taken a colossal amount of effort to stay at the church after walking in and seeing Devin there, but after talking to Reverend Jenkins about the festival and doing some research, she was actually looking forward to helping. She'd expected her ideas to be met with resistance, but was overjoyed by the way Reverend and Mrs. Jenkins both agreed with them. Seeing the pride in Devin's eyes warmed her more than anything, sending her wayward emotions all over the place.

But succumbing to those feelings would kill the fragile approval her mom was finally showing. The only thing her mom asked was for her to do a good job with this festival, and stay away from Devin Jones so her cousin Kia had a clear shot. This was her one chance to gain her mom's love, acceptance, and possibly her approval; she couldn't throw it away on a relationship that would end the second she left town. Yet she'd agreed to follow him when he asked her to so they could talk somewhere other than the church parking lot.

They traveled out of town toward Roscoe's home. When she pulled up in Roscoe's yard behind Devin, he asked her to get in the truck with him. She glanced at Roscoe, who nodded before going up his porch and into the house. With a sigh and a prayer that her mom never found out, she climbed into Devin's truck.

Once she closed the door to the cab, she was surrounded by Devin's scent. Like a drug addict she inhaled deeply, as the memories of his body on top of hers took over. Life wasn't fair, but it was damn near cruel that the one man who'd given her the best sex of her life was off limits. The muscles in his hands hypnotized her as he maneuvered the truck around his dad's house. They weren't soft hands, but neither were they calloused as they'd run across her body. His long fingers flexed as they gripped then slid up and around the steering wheel. Gentleness was what she'd felt when they'd caressed her breasts. Strength and firmness when they'd parted her slippery folds and slid into her body.

Desire flowed between her legs. She squeezed her thighs together. Getting horny was not what she needed. She lifted her gaze to his face. He stared out the windshield, oblivious to her discomfort. There was a slight frown on his face, and his jaw clenched and unclenched, as if he were biting back words.

He hadn't spoken since she'd gotten in the truck, and the silence within the cab only increased her awareness of how they hadn't been truly alone since having sex a week ago. When he took the truck down a small dirt road in the woods next to his dad's house, she finally broke the silence.

“Where are we going?”

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. His lips lifted in a smile that heated her body and sent tingles across her skin that concentrated at the tips of her breasts and between her legs.

“Don't worry; I don't have any sinful plans.”

“What if I want you to?” The words were out before she could rethink them.

The gold flecks in his eyes turned molten and a flush crept up his high cheek bones. He broke eye contact. “As much as I enjoyed it, having sex with you again is not my plan.”