Page 35 of Preacher

“They like shiny things. I saw a documentary.” Diesel shrugged, still searching for the last ring.

“You watched a documentary? Voluntarily?”

“Fuck off, it was on at the dentist’s.”

I spotted something shiny about ten feet away. Setting aside my popcorn, I stood and walked over, grinning when a silver ring looked back up at me. Crowbar was definitely gonna hate me. “Found it.”

The silence was deafening.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Crowbar said flatly. “It was right there in front of you?”

“All right,” Preacher said, but his eyes were warm when they found mine. “Show’s over. Drift, start on lunch. Crowbar, you might want to get that hand looked at.”

“It’s fine,” Crowbar grumbled, but I could see the red welts rising on his skin.

“That’s poison oak,” I informed him cheerfully. “Or sumac. Either way, you’re gonna want calamine lotion. Maybe some Benadryl.”

The others dispersed, leaving Preacher and me standing by the deck. He looked tired.

“You should rest,” I said. “That shoulder needs time to heal properly.”

“I’m fine.”

“Everyone ’round here seems to say that.” I stepped closer, fingers ghosting over the edge of his shirt where I knew the bandage was. “But I did good work on those stitches, and I’ll be very offended if you pop them doing something stupid.”

“Stupid like hunting for rings in the woods?”

“Stupid like not admitting you’re in pain.” I met his eyes. “You don’t have to be tough all the time. Not with me.”

Something shifted in his expression, a vulnerability he probably didn’t let many people see. His hand came up to cover mine where it relaxed against his chest.

“I’ll rest,” he said quietly. “If you stay.”

“Deal.” I threaded our fingers together. “But I’m picking the movie. And if you complain about my choices, I’m making Drift cook dinner again.”

“He’s a good cook.”

“I watched him put ketchup on a perfectly good steak last night. It was horrifying.”

Preacher chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. “No ketchup on steak. Got it.”

“See? Compromise.” I grinned like an idiot. “We’re practically domesticated already.”

This thing between us was moving fast, from stranger to claimed in the span of days. But standing there with his hand in mine, his pack treating me like I belonged, his scent still clinging to my skin, I couldn’t bring myself to pump the brakes.

“Inside.” Preacher tugged me toward the door. “Before Crowbar tries to touch you with that hand out of spite.”

“He likes me,” I said confidently. “He just doesn’t know it yet.”

“That’s what you think?”

“That’s what I know. He gave me caramels. You don’t share candy with people you actually dislike.”

Preacher shook his head, but he was smiling. “Your logic is interesting.”

“My logic is flawless.” I let him lead me inside, already mentally cataloging which movies would annoy him least. “Also, we’re watching something with explosions. I’ve had enough nature documentary for one day.”

“Deal.”