Strength (Mark of Nexus #1) by Carrie Butler Page A

“Sorry, uh, here. Thanks for letting me borrow them.”
    He took them, and his hands brushed mine for the briefest of seconds. “You’re welcome.”
    We stood there for a moment, both hesitating, and I couldn’t look away. Sometimes he just stared at me, like he could see into the depths of my soul or something. It was unnerving, but at the same time, stirred some kind of response in me. Time hung in the air around us…
    Until the door screeched open and a girl barged in, toting a massive laundry bag.
    He cleared his throat and shut both dryer doors before turning his back to me. With quick, fluid movements, he grabbed his basket and set it on the bench. Before I could say anything, he took mine and set it on top of his.
    “What are y—”
    “C’mon.” He hefted them both without so much as an awkward grimace, making the act look effortless as he strode past, eyes locked on the door.
    It irked me a little.
    “Aww! My boyfriend never carries my laundry.” The girl stared at us with googly eyes, her lips tilted in a wistful smile.
    “Oh…no. He’s not my…we’re not…” I shook my head and waved her off. “Not my boyfriend, sorry.” My face burned as I ducked my head down and trotted past him. With a quick twist of the handle, I opened the door and jerked my chin for him to slip past.
    “Thanks.”
    “You too, Hercules .” I followed him into the hall and pushed the call button for the elevator. “You really don’t have to do that, you know. I’m fully capable of carrying my own basket.”
    He leveled me with a heavy gaze. “It’s fine.”
    “Are you mad at me?” Did I just say that out loud?
    One dark eyebrow lifted. “What?”
    “Nothing,” I muttered, looking down at my shoes. “You’re not just some church guy, okay?” Not just some church guy? What was wrong with me tonight? The semi-truck of failure had rounded the corner, and I was caught in its headlights.
    Ding!
    I leapt at the chance to escape the conversation, even though it meant having to hold the doors open. For once, my fear of looking stupid outweighed my fear that the elevator would chomp on my arm. Saving face was more important.
    “Don’t worry about it.” He maneuvered around me to stand in the middle of the small compartment. “It’s fine.”
    I drew in a deep breath and slowly released it, stepping back to press the buttons for the fourth and seventh floors. “I’m just trying to say I’m sorry. I don’t know anything about you or your church, and it was stupid of me to assume.”
    “Do you want to?”
    I leaned back against the metal bar, eyeing him. “Want to what?”
    “Know.” He lifted one shoulder in a shrug, keeping a firm grip on the baskets. “You can come check it out, if you want. Maybe it’ll convince you I haven’t taken some monk oath.”
    “Um…” I looked up and watched the floor numbers change. “Sure, I guess that would be cool.” Claustrophobic thoughts of a stuffy sanctuary sprang to mind, and I did my best not to shudder. I wanted to spend time with him, but church was so…
    “Hey,” he spoke up as the doors chimed open on the fourth floor. “You don’t have to. I’m just giving you an open invitation.” He stepped out into the hallway. “I’d even give you a ride.”
    I opened and shut my mouth, following after him. “You’re going to miss your elevator.”
    He fixed me with another look—only this time, his eyes softened with the slightest bit of understanding. “Point taken.”
    “Wait!” I waved my hands out, blocking the doors “No. I mean, sure. What else am I doing Sunday morning? Well, not to say that it’s unimportant. I…I will go. Yes.” With frazzled nerves, I marched around the corner, toward my suite door. If he’d come off the elevator, he was obviously willing to carry the thing to my room.
    A chill shot down my spine. Was he going to come in? Had I left the place dirty? I wrenched the suite door open and bumped it back with my hip. When he