The Echo on the Water (Sacred Trinity #2) Read Online J.A. Huss

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Crime, Dark, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Sacred Trinity Series by J.A. Huss
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Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 106839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
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And anyway, he doesn’t make any more moves. Just appears to be enjoying the sermon.

I, on the other hand, am so distracted by his sudden appearance that I miss my next ‘amen.’ And then I spend the next ten minutes running scenarios through my head about why he’s here. Most of them comin’ out on the sexy side of things.

Which is a fantasy for sure, because I’m not his type. At least I don’t think I am.

When the show is over everyone gets up to leave, as do I, but Amon stays right where he is. Obviously waiting for me.

I make my way to the end of the row and stand before him, his eyes dancin’ a little. “Amon.”

“Rosie.”

“Are you here for me?”

“I am.”

“Oh. I see. Well. What can I do for you?”

“I asked you to go bowling last night.”

“You did.”

“You turned me down.”

“That’s right.”

“Well, I was wondering if it was just bad timing or if it was me.”

I let out a breath. “Why are you wondering that?”

“Why?” His eyebrows shoot up. “Because if it was bad timing, I’m gonna ask you again. But if you don’t like me, I’ll move on.”

“That’s very forthcoming of you.”

“Thanks. I like to be forthcoming.”

He’s talking with a straight face, but I’m smiling pretty big right now. “Well, can I think about this a little bit?”

“Can you define ‘little bit?’”

I smile bigger. “You’re flirtin’ with me.”

“Why does that surprise you? You flirt with everyone.”

“Well, yeah. But that’s me. You’re… you.”

“What are you saying? I’m not flirty?”

“Are you flirty?”

He smiles now. But he narrows his eyes too. “Should I ask again? Or should I move on?”

“If I say move on, will you truly move on? Or will you try again?”

His smile grows. “Try again.”

“Then I’m gonna tell you to move on.”

He nods, still smiling, then leans forward. “By the way, I read your little paper. Not the one you gave me, but the one from last week. My sisters had a copy.”

“Oh, right. They do the Revival marketing and I’m part of the marketing now.”

“I like it.”

“Which part? The whole idea of it? Or just the vibe?”

“The writing.”

I nearly giggle. “You like the ads?”

“Yeah. I’m kinda jealous of Robust and Hearty because I like his taste in women. And I was thinking that the woman he described sounded a little bit like you.”

I nearly guffaw. I manage to hold it in, but my cheeks get hot and I know I’m probably turning bright red. “You fancy a…” I pause to think back on what kind of partner Robust and Hearty was looking for. “A courageous and resilient woman who is ready to embrace the thrills and trials of a life less ordinary?”

Amon nods. “I do.”

“Well.” I pull myself together. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Amon Parrish. But I am not looking for a man at the moment. I am quite happy with my life as it is.”

He nods at me. Pretends to take off an imaginary hat and bows a little. And even though he’s not in costume—he’s wearing his usual outfit of black tactical pants and black t-shirt—I picture him in one. “Well, then,” he says. “I will leave you to your day. But I’ll see ya around, Rosie Harlow.”

I nod back. “See ya around, Amon Parrish.”

He turns and walks out, not even looking back. But I’m not unhappy about that because he already told me that he’s gonna try again.

I am being courted.

By Amon Parrish, of all people.

My role in today’s Revival is tea-party participant in the garden party tent. Visitors can buy special tickets for a seat at the garden party tables. Four people to a table. Two are Disciple women and two are ticket-holding guests. That way we can all have a nice chat and get to know one another.

It’s not required that the out-of-towners dress up in costume—not everybody can afford that. But it’s pretty common that they do. On this afternoon our two guests are very period-appropriate and my assigned garden party tea partner is MaisieLee Roberts herself, the dressmaker of the aforementioned period-appropriate dresses.

MaisieLee rests both her elbows on the table, propping two fists under her chin as she leans forward in my direction. “So.” She cocks her head at me. “What did Amon want?”

“Which one is Amon?” tea-party-participant number one asks.

“He’s the handsome fella who interrupted church,” tea-party-participant number two replies.

“Oh,” the first one says. Then she nods, smiling. “I like him. He’s cute.”

MaisieLee butts in here. “Isn’t he just. Are you datin’ him, Rosie? Because last I heard you were datin’ a Fayetteville man called Scar.”

“Which one is Scar?” Number One asks her partner.

“I’m not sure,” Number Two replies.

I wave a hand at the visitors. “He’s no one.” Then I look MaisieLee in the eyes. “We’ll talk about this later.”

But MaisieLee is ready for my dismissal and she’s got a comeback. “Oh, I think we should talk about this now. Don’t you ladies agree?”


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