Stealing the Preacher by Karen Witemeyer

horse yesterday as she watched him ride off, she probably would have mistaken him for a wandering cowhand looking for work.
    As he dismounted near the barn, he must have caught sight of her, for he lifted a hand in greeting and strode toward the garden.
    Her heart skipped a delighted beat, barely able to believe what she was seeing. Then her delight turned to horror as she realized the state of her attire.
    Joanna bit her lip and spun around. Good heavens! She was covered in dirt. Probably had smudges on her face. And her nails? Joanna moaned as she examined the dark stains around her cuticles. Could his timing be any worse? Not only had he caught her in her ugliest dress with one of her father’s old hats plopped on her head, but she probably smelled of the cabbage she had harvested before she checked on her squash. Wonderful. Just what a man wanted to smell when visiting a lady.
    “Miss Robbins?”
    Joanna pivoted and bit back a groan of despair. Crockett Archer was even more handsome than she’d remembered. Somehow his rancher’s clothing made him seem more approachable, more . . . within her reach. And if that wasn’t the most ridiculous notion, she didn’t know what was. A man with his looks and kind heart could have any woman he chose. He’d never settle for a shy, freckly redhead with an ex-outlaw for a father. She was everything the ideal preacher’s wife was not .
    “Brother Archer. What a surprise.” Joanna forced her lips to curve in welcome, praying there wasn’t a big blotch of dirt onthe end of her nose where she’d rubbed an itch a moment ago. “I didn’t expect to see you again.”
    “I hadn’t anticipated a reunion this soon, either, but it seems the Lord had other ideas.”
    His smile was so warm, it took a moment for his words to penetrate. “The Lord?” Joanna scrunched her eyebrows as she tried to puzzle out his meaning. “What ideas?”
    The parson removed his hat and held it before him, worrying the brim as if he were actually nervous. “If you’re still looking to fill the local pulpit, ma’am, I’d like to apply for the job.”
    “You’d like to . . . apply . . . ?” Joanna couldn’t even form all the words. In fact, she barely managed to hold herself upright. No, truth be told, even that meager feat was beyond her, for she was listing dangerously to the right.
    In an instant, Crockett Archer was by her side, steadying her elbow with a solid grip. He angled himself slightly behind her, as if he were a stake propping up a drooping bean plant. “Miss Robbins? Are you all right?”
    When she continued teetering, he slapped his hat back on his head and wrapped his right arm around the back of her waist. Her knees quivered from the close contact and from the way his decadent brown eyes searched her face in concern.
    His arms felt heavenly about her, and his attentive regard left her breathless, but she needed to clarify his words. Bracing her legs more firmly beneath her, she steadied herself and stepped away from his support. “Are you saying you’d like to . . . to preach here on a regular basis?”
    His furrowed brow eased a bit as he nodded. “Yes’m. Every Sunday, if I can find work to support me until the church can pay my salary.”
    “But what about Brenham?”
    From the moment he disarmed Jackson Spivey with nothing but a calm demeanor and a display of respect, Joanna hadknown in the depths of her soul that Crockett Archer was the minister she needed to reach her father. But she’d watched him leave—twice. Had God truly brought him back to stay?
    “They apparently filled their vacancy yesterday.”
    “I’m sorry.” And she was. For him. He’d been so excited, so full of plans when they spoke on Saturday. He must have been devastated.
    And it was her fault.
    If her father hadn’t abducted him, he would have auditioned on schedule, and she knew firsthand how marvelously he could deliver a sermon. A day later, her heart still swelled when she