The Marine by Amanda Lewis

Author:Amanda Lewis [Amanda Lewis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Edgar Press
Published: 2023-01-08T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

The clock read six a.m., but she’d slept for no more than an hour at most. At the break of dawn, with orangey pinkish light streaming through her windows, Ophelia was wide awake and staring at the ceiling. It was insane to be in love with a man she barely knew, had really only just met last week. But there were so many times and moments that felt like the deepest connection she’d ever experienced in her life. Outside of Jesus, of course.

And that. She’d never told a single person about her experience. Even though Goodwater Ranch was a strongly spiritual town, and she probably would’ve been more readily accepted if she’d shared it on the news, but she didn’t want to. She would feel like a fraud just trying to win votes. Table Flipping Jesus would be pissed that she was cheapening her experience by name dropping or selling t-shirts at rallies with His image on them just to garner support. Not that she would ever do that, but she could think of some who would.

Ophelia smiled to herself as she walked towards the door. She sincerely hoped she got to watch the clip of Table Flipping Jesus when she got to Heaven. When she opened the door, she took in a deep breath. The cool, crisp morning air trailing through the cabin, like a window had been left open. Chase was not on the couch, and there were no breakfast foods to be smelled. She glanced around, noticing that the back door was standing wide and the screened wooden frame was propped open to let the air and bugs in.

Ophelia stopped in her tracks, musing at the sight in front of her for a second before she interrupted him. Outside, over the stairs of the back porch with his back to her, Chase was doing pull-ups on the edge of the roof.

Without a shirt on.

Suspended in air like an acrobat, with his golden waves dampened from sweat as his chin touched the ceiling of the porch.

She marveled at his perfectly toned and corded forearms, his biceps and triceps bulging out with each movement, and the defined muscles rippling across his back as if he was sculpted from a block of marble.

Ophelia nudged her own jaw shut, and decided she needed to say something before her thoughts wandered too far away from reach. She chuckled softly to herself. Jesus would certainly not be impressed by the lusty summersaults her insides were doing right now.

When Ophelia reached the kitchenette, she stopped midstep, one foot hovering over the floorboard. On Chase’s back, there weren’t just ripped muscles. There were angry pink lines cut across his flesh, painful reminders of something he’d no doubt tried to forget. They’d been hidden in the shadows, but revealed themselves prominently as she inched closer. Her heart sank. They weren’t just surface wounds; some looked deep and furious.

She reached the doorway just as he heard the floorboards creak. Chase lowered himself to the porch, not turning around to face her.

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