Secret Agent Minister by Lenora Worth

Dev had once again become the protector, because Lydia was dear to him and someone was trying to kill her. He’d keep running in order to save her.
    Now, he’d breached all decorum and protocol and broken all the rules. He’d kissed her. And he wanted to kiss her again. But that couldn’t happen.
    He’d hurt her too many times already.
    And how would Lydia feel when they reached the end of the line? Would she still be his friend—his treasured friend—or would she hate him forever?
    I’m hurting. How could he ever forget her angry face, the pain in her beautiful eyes, or those words she’d hurled at him? He never would forget. And he certainly couldn’t forget that kiss they’d shared.
    I’m hurting, too, Lydia, he thought now as he pulled her head down onto his chest. I’m hurting for you, and for what might have been…for us.

     
    Lydia woke with a start, the smell of diesel fuel permeating her nose. Glancing around, she looked up into bright sunshine and Pastor Dev’s haggard but handsome face. “Hello.”
    “Hello,” he said, helping her to sit up. They were still in the back of the watermelon truck.
    “Where are we?” she asked, squinting into the sun. The road was busy and multilaned, an interstate. Then she saw signs for Austin. “We’re in Texas?”
    “Yes, and we’ll be at our destination soon.” As if on cue, the truck turned off the interstate and headed down a long and winding county road. He gave her an appraising look. “How are you?”
    Lydia knew she must look hideous with her smeared makeup and ratty hair. “I don’t know. I need a mirror before I answer that question.”
    “You look better this morning. No rash or hives, and your pulse and breathing are both back to normal. I think the antidote did its job.”
    “I look like a drowned rat, and you know it.”
    He touched a hand to her temple in a gesture she was beginning to both love and hate. “You look beautiful to me, because you’re not sick anymore.” The fatigue in his eyes told her he’d kept vigil over her all night.
    Feeling petty and contrite, she lowered her gaze. “Thank you, for saving my life.”
    He shrugged. “Part of the job.”
    That felt like a slap in the face, and just because she was weak and sore and dehydrated and hungry, she retorted. “And I guess that kiss was just part of the job, too, right?”
    He had the good grace to look away. “That shouldn’t have happened.”
    Her heart held the leftover fire of last night’s rage. “Right.”
    “But…I had to calm you down.”
    “Well, that certainly did the trick, didn’t it?”
    “Lydia—”
    “Don’t,” she said, holding up a hand and blinking back tears. “Don’t try to explain or justify things. We’re in deep trouble and…I know things are not as they seem. Even between us. Being chased, running for our lives, being thrown into such a chaotic situation, makes us do things we’d never do on a normal, routine day. Things such as kissing each other. Bad idea. So you need to understand, if…when we get out of this, I don’t expect anything from you. Not one thing, except my old job back, of course. I do have bills to pay.”
    He actually managed a smile then, his eyes sweeping over her with regret and what looked a whole lot like longing. “We will get back to our old routine, Lydia. Somehow. And then, the worst thing we’ll have to run from will be Mrs. Gordon’s prune cake.”
    Lydia thought of ornery eighty-year-old Mrs. Gordon, bringing prune cake to each and every church function. Then she started giggling. Pastor Dev did, too. They both laughed so hard, tears were streaming down their faces when the truck came to an abrupt halt.
    Lydia wiped at the tears, and wondered if they really were from laughing, or from a deep need to just sit and cry her eyes out. Maybe she was just too tired to think straight, but she thought the tears in Pastor Dev’s eyes weren’t from humor, either.
    They both missed the life they’d left