Page 100 of Rocky Mountain Devil

His mom offered a soft laugh. “I don’t think I have that title anymore.”

Rafe looked around as if in shock. “What, you think you see someone who can replace you? Never.”

His mom’s laughter faded rapidly. She poked him in the side before gesturing across the table to the far side of the room, her hand discreetly hidden under the table. He followed the line of her finger to discover Laurel, her hand full of plates, trapped outside the kitchen door by Jeff.

A flash of anger filtered through his Christmas cheer. “Excuse me.”

“Rafe,” his mom warned. “Be nice.”

He rose to his feet and smiled down on her. “I’ll be nice. I’ll be so nice he won’t know what hit him.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” his mother offered before shooing him away and turning back to her neighbour.

Rafe figured that was her signal to tell him she wasn’t watching. Which meant he could do anything he wanted.

Jeff had to be the most oblivious son of a gun out there. The man refused to give up. Rafe marched up to him and slapped a hand on his shoulder, squeezing hard. He might’ve heard bones creak.

“Jeff, my man. Merry Christmas.” Another squeeze.

The young pastor gingerly twisted to remove himself from Rafe’s grasp. “Rafe. Good to see you.”

Yeah, bullshit on that.

Jeff held his hand forward, and this time Rafe gave into temptation, shaking harder than necessary.

Only the bastard fought back, dirty. Jeff casually wiggled his fingers at his side, but made a dig the only way he could. “Laurel and I were discussing the plans we have this year for different ministry opportunities. We’re going to do one of the studies we worked on together.”

“That’s nice,” Rafe said as casually as possible. “Plans you have…together?”

“I’m hoping she’ll come on board as one of the teachers.” Jeff offered his most professional smile, and Rafe wondered if the man practiced in front of a mirror. “We’ve worked well together in the past.”

“I need to get these to the kitchen,” Laurel excused herself, giving Rafe a warning glance before she pushed the door open with her back and escaped.

He didn’t need the warning—

Well, maybe he did, because it was tempting to lift a hand to Jeff’s chest and slam him into the wall. Not the wisest move, and definitely not the proper place. Right smack dab in front of a gathering of over fifty, some of whom were watching with great curiosity.

Figures. Their little “situation” couldn’t have gone unnoticed with the small-town gossips. He refused to call it a love triangle like he’d overheard at one point, though. There was nothing love-like about either Laurel or his relationship with the man.

Now if they could convince Jeff of that. He was like a dog with a freaking bone…

“I think I’ll slip into the kitchen and help.” Jeff tipped his head, his eyes flashing slightly. “You go ahead and rejoin the visitors. I’ll take care of Laurel.”

Rafe caught himself a second before he nabbed the other man around the throat. Instead he leaned in and placed a hand on Jeff’s shoulder. Gentle, though. No smashing him into anything.

“You want to go somewhere to have a private discussion?” Rafe asked, casual violence in his voice. “Or do you have plans for the rest of the holidays that require your teeth?”

The other man narrowed his gaze. “Threats?”

“Promises.” Rafe stepped back, tipping an imaginary hat before stepping around him and entering the kitchen. He joined Laurel at the sink, hip checking her lightly to get her to move over so he could take over the washing.

She stared at him with suspicion. “What’re you doing?”

“Washing dishes,” he said innocently.

“Good grief.” She tucked herself against his side and lowered her voice. “You’re supposed to be having dinner with your mom.”

“I was, and as soon as you’re ready, we can both go have dessert with her.”