Page 17 of Boston (Coral Canyon: Cowboys #12)

CHAPTER

ELEVEN

W hy do you go to church every week?

The moment Cora had started texting him, Boston had stopped listening to the pastor.

He’d been talking about prayer and relying on God when things got hard, both topics Boston had heard and studied a few times in his life.

He did want to be more like Peter and be able to have enough faith to walk on water.

The truth was, Boston was still learning a lot of things.

His testimony had been strengthened lately, as he’d been working on saying more of the things in his heart and relying on God to put the right words in his mouth. He desperately needed that right now, too.

Why do you go to church every week?

Boston wasn’t sure anyone had ever asked him that, and he honestly didn’t have an answer.

He looked around at the other people sitting in the pews that day, and he wondered what they would say.

Uncle Luke, Uncle Morris and Uncle Gabe attended this church in Dog Valley as they all lived either in this small town just north of Coral Canyon, or closer to it than Coral Canyon.

Joey and Adam also attended this church, and Boston’s eyes caught on the back of Adam’s head. The man had started wearing a cowboy hat more often, especially to church, and he was fairly new in his attendance and faith. What would he say if Boston asked him?

Why do you go to church every week?

He looked down at his phone again and found that the screen had gone black. He’d been texting back and forth pretty rapidly with Cora, and he didn’t want to leave her hanging for too long, but he truly didn’t know how to answer her.

“Each of you is unique,” the pastor said, causing Boston to look up again. “And the Lord knows each of you intimately. When you go to Him in prayer, He will have a personalized answer for you.”

Boston let his eyes drift closed, even as the pastor continued his sermon. Lord, what should I tell Cora about why I come to church?

A resounding clap of thunder did not shake the chapel walls, and Boston frowned, kept his eyes closed and focused on listening to a voice he’d never quite been able to hear.

He had felt it, though, many times in his life, and while his knowledge of the gospel wasn’t perfect, he knew one thing—he loved God, and he wanted to do anything he could to show it.

He opened his eyes and quickly sent a text back to Cora.

I come as often as I can, because it feels like the right thing to do. When I’m here, I feel good about myself. I feel worthy of the life I’ve been given. I know God loves me, and I want Him to know that I love Him too.

He sent that message and immediately started typing another. I don’t know if that makes sense, and I don’t know if it’s my complete answer either. That was a really hard question.

He sent that text, a small smile crossing his face. I’m going to ask you a hard one, if you don’t mind. You don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to.

Do you go to church or have any desire to? If you do, you could come with me, because I’m pretty sure the only thing that could make this pastor’s sermons better would be if I listened to them while I held your hand.

He stared at the text, sure it had not come from his mind or fingers. Boston didn’t say things like this to women, and certainly not one that he’d met only a week ago.

The letters shone back at him, and before he lost his nerve, he tapped to send them. He watched his phone for several seconds, expecting Cora to respond quickly. When she didn’t, he flipped his phone over, his chest tightening even though he told himself he hadn’t said anything too bad.

Maybe she’s just not religious, Boston thought, and he remembered a lesson his father had taught their family from his youth.

Look for someone who shares the same values as you , Daddy had said when Beth and Boston were getting ready to leave the house and strike their own way in the world.

It’s not essential , Daddy had said. But it will make your life a lot easier if you’re on the same page when it comes to these things: how to spend your money, how and where to raise your children, and your religious beliefs.

Anything you don’t agree on can be worked out if those three things are talked about and aligned first.

Boston told himself he’d only known Cora for a week, and he wouldn’t even give her the label of girlfriend yet. He picked up his phone and texted Beth. Are you coming to cousin night next week?

I don’t know, Beth said. Are you going?

Yeah, Boston said. And I’m thinking about bringing a friend from work. Well, she’s kind of a friend right now, and I’m hoping she’ll be a girlfriend soon.

That’s exciting, Boston! Beth said.

Can I ask you a question?

Of course.

Why do you go to church?

Uh, I don’t know, Beth said. That’s a really hard question to distill down into a couple of sentences.

That made Boston feel a whole lot better, and he sent Beth an emoji with crazy eyes and the tongue sticking out.

It’s something my friend/almost-girlfriend asked me, and it kind of confounded me too.

I’m just thinking about that lesson Momma and Daddy gave us about being on the same page with someone.

Do you think it would be a total relationship killer if I was religious and she wasn’t?

Where are you right now? Beth asked. Can I call you?

I’m sitting in church, he said, half chuckling under his breath. It’s not a bad place to be thinking about these things.

Call me when you get done then, Beth said, and Boston gave her a thumbs up.

He didn’t normally spend a lot of time thinking about deep religious things or his convictions or his beliefs.

They had been coming up a lot more lately, and Boston couldn’t help feeling like he’d entered a critical time of his life where the decisions he made now would frame his days, weeks and years ahead.

He thought about the old adage of having to sleep in the bed he’d made, and he wanted to make the right kind of bed, with the right people, at the right job.

His phone buzzed, and he looked down at it, his pulse bumping harder when he saw Cora had finally responded. Let’s talk more at lunch. Are you thinking like a hike-type of walk or a walk over to a restaurant?

Cora sent a smiley face. I’ve got to be real honest, after my first week here, I’d vote for the second one.

Boston grinned. Same. I’ll pick you up and we’ll walk over to Shanghai’s. I can text Karla and get us a reservation.

Done, Cora said, and Boston sat back to listen to the rest of the sermon, beyond thrilled that he had a date after this.

Now, if he could just figure out the answers to his questions, he’d be sitting pretty.

Boston walked over to Cora’s later that day.

He hadn’t been able to talk to Beth yet, as she’d gotten called into a last-minute meeting for her summer MBA cohort.

It was fine, as Boston had figured out a lot of things on his own, and he could do this too.

Of course, he had plenty of other people he could call, but he didn’t want to talk to his momma or daddy about Cora quite yet, and he’d already unloaded enough on Cash.

He’d stayed after the service and chatted with Joey and Adam for a couple of minutes. They’d both asked about Cora, and Boston had simply said, “We’re still getting to know each other.”

He jogged up her front steps and knocked on the door as the cabins out here didn’t have doorbells.

“Come in,” she yelled from inside, and Boston pulled open the screen door and twisted the doorknob.

“It’s just me,” he said, but he didn’t see Cora anywhere in the main living areas of the house.

“The strap on my shoe just broke,” she yelled from down the hall. “Give me a minute.”

“No problem,” he called, his eyes sweeping around her house.

He’d been here just last night, and everything looked almost exactly the same.

Still, a tiny thrill filled him that he stood here, and when Cora came bustling down the hallway only a few seconds later, the first thing he looked at was her shoes.

They seemed to be made of all straps, alternating silver, white, and gold across the top of her foot and around her heel, and they added a couple of inches to her height.

Boston let his eyes track up her legs and body to her face. She wore a white pair of shorts as clean as freshly fallen snow and a white tank top with alternating black, silver, and gold stripes with shimmery, metallic thread in the fabric.

Her makeup matched, as she’d done a black, smoky eye, with silver shadow and little gold dust flecks in the corners of her eyes. Boston could not speak, for this goddess of a woman had rendered him mute.

She looked back at him too, her smile genuine and bright. “Did you go home and change first?”

The question shook him out of his stupor, and his tongue still felt thick in his mouth as he said, “Yeah.”

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked, her smile falling a little bit.

Boston told himself to get it together, and he managed to take a step toward her. “I don’t think we can go out.”

Cora frowned. “Why not?”

“There’s a couple of reasons, actually.” He took another step toward her and then another, finally close enough to slide one hand along the waistband of those unblemished white shorts. “One: have you talked to your sister and your momma? People are going to see us at the restaurant.”

Cora looked up at him, her expression open.

“Two,” he said, before she could answer. “Every cowboy who sees you is going to want to ask you out, and I don’t know if I can compete with that.”

Her smile returned, and she dipped her chin and shook her head. “That’s just silly.”

“You look incredible,” he whispered, and he dipped his head too, placing his mouth right at her ear. “I don’t know how to be with a woman like you.” He touched his lips to her neck and then sternly told himself to behave.

He pulled away and was glad to find a flush in Cora’s face that mirrored the one rising through his whole body.

“I didn’t mean to ask such a hard question,” she said.

“Maybe today can be our hard question day,” Boston said.

Cora groaned and stepped past him. “Okay, but I think we should limit it to three.”

Boston chuckled. “You’ve asked me one, and I guess I’ve asked you one—which you didn’t answer, I’d like to point out.”

“I needed to think about it.” She picked up her purse and faced him. “And I think I could go to church again. My momma and daddy raised me with scriptures and sermons and Sunday services, but I haven’t been in a long time.”

Boston nodded, trying to release the tension in his jaw. “Why is that, do you think?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said with a sigh. “Life got busy. I was away from home. No one had any expectations of me. I could do what I wanted.”

“And you didn’t want to go to church?”

“It wasn’t at the top of my list, no,” she said.

“Well, no pressure from me,” he said. “I find church to be grounding. It centers me a little bit. It reminds me that life is good, even when it’s busy or things don’t go my way.”

Cora linked her arm through his and turned him toward the door. “That sounds really nice,” she said. “I feel like I could use some of that.”

They went outside, and she pulled the door closed behind her, but didn’t lock it.

“What time is church, though? You texted me real early.”

He grinned at her. “It starts at nine, but I go a little early because I get breakfast on the way in from this great bagel shop.”

“Oh, now you’re speaking my language.” She giggled, and Boston sure liked the sound of it.

“Here’s my next hard question for you.” They started down the lane together, and Boston captured her hand in his, though she still hadn’t answered him on whether she’d spoken to her mom and sister or not.

He suspected she hadn’t, but she didn’t seem overly concerned about being seen in public with him.

“Lay it on me, sister,” he said.

Cora looked down the lane at the horizon and then over to him. “I’m wondering how old you are.”

Boston’s heart did a full stop in his chest. “How old I am?”

“Yeah. I mean, how old do you think I am?”

“I don’t know,” Boston said.

“We didn’t go to school together, which means I’m at least four years older than you.”

He looked at her. “Is that a problem?”

“It depends on what number you give me,” she said.

Boston had never wanted to lie about something more than he did in that moment.

What number would make her balk at their relationship?

Seven, eight, ten? He looked at her again, her smooth skin, her dazzling makeup, and while yes, he’d assumed she was older than him, as she’d spent the last decade in Miami, he couldn’t believe she could be a full ten years older than him.

And so what if she is? he thought to himself.

“I’m twenty-three,” he said, practically barking out the words. “And since it’s hard question day and you brought it up, I’m going to ask you how old you are.”

“Fine, but that’s your second question.”

Boston grinned at her. “I’ll put my third one with it. After you tell me how old you are, is the age difference going to be something that stops us from continuing to get to know one another?”

She came to a stop, released his hand and put hers on her hip. “Fine, but that’s going to prompt my third question, and that is, when are you going to start calling me your girlfriend?”

Boston blinked and let what she’d asked sink into his ears, mind, heart, and soul.

“You first,” he said.

“I’m thirty,” she said. “And no, I don’t think a seven-year difference is going to stop me from wanting to get to know you better.

” She scoffed and threw up both hands. “It’s crazy, and everyone’s going to think I’m an idiot.

But you know what?” She moved into him and put both hands on his chest, slid them up, and fisted her fingers in his collar. “I don’t care what they think.”

Boston took her into his arms, the desire to kiss her flowing through him like river rapids, strong and violent, almost tossing him to and fro.

“Great,” he said. “Because I don’t care about what other people think either, or that my girlfriend is seven years older than me.”