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unsupportive.”
     
    He rolled his eyes. “I’m no amateur, dear Regina. I didn’t imagine the church had developed a tolerance policy during my extended absence.”
     
    “If you ever see the news you’d certainly have seen your father has done no such thing.” Again her scowl said it all. He’d asked her once why she stayed when she wasn’t as anti-everything as his father’s church seemed to be. Apparently six figures as an administrative assistant was a hard thing to pass up. He’d probably have sold his soul too. He knew what kind of bonuses his dad gave on top of his employees’ salaries, too. His father was definitely your stereotypical God Tycoon. He made ridiculous amounts of money for his speeches and his books. The church also paid him a princely sum.
     
    “I try not to pay attention to how badly my father pushes against those restrictions they set for tax exempt status. I see his name pop up in the news and I scroll to the next story.” He walked around his desk and set down his brief case.
     
    “Probably wise,” she said. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. Your sister said you’d already gotten caught up to the point where you could get started?”
     
    “ Yes, ma’am. She left me about a million folders on our accounts. I’ve met with the bank. I believe I have a meeting with Debby Schultz tomorrow so I’m going to try to catch up with the notes she e-mailed me.”
     
    “Good boy.” Before she made it out the door, she turned back. “Oh, if you need anything until you get your own secretary, just press two on speed dial; that’s my extension, and I’ll do what I can.”
     
    “Thanks Miss Regina.” And with that she was off. He sighed and looked around his new office. He’d been dreading this so much over the last three weeks. It hadn’t really sunk in until he’d started up the mile long driveway to his cottage on the back lake of the ranch. It’d been surreal being back for the first time in what was nearing a decade. Then when he’d parked in the church’s staff lot this morning, it seemed like he could hear the sound of a jail cell slamming shut. He didn’t know why he felt trapped. He was an accomplished accountant with excellent references. He would now single-handedly be responsible for the accounting of a multi-million dollar Jesus Machine. He could leave here and get a job anywhere. This was just biding his time, making twice what he’d been making in Abernathy. He’d be able to save most of his salary since his major housing expenses had been deducted of the top.
     
    But just being back here felt like he’d fallen into a sinkhole. Like maybe he’d never really escaped. Maybe that’s why Chance had been so eager to stay on the straight-and-narrow. Pun certainly intended. There was something about their corner of Small Town, U.S.A. that made you understand your place as a cog in the machine.
     
    And damn, didn’t it suck to think of Chance now when the man was so close, yet so untouchable. He’d considered reaching out to the man, but it’s not like Chance had done any reaching out of his own in the three weeks since their night together. Not that he knew Bradley was coming back to town. Hell, they hadn’t even exchanged numbers.
     
    Fuck that though. He was not getting involved with a closet case who had Small Town issues, and who was last but not least was a member of Bradley’s father’s church. Wouldn’t that tickle the old man pink. Plus he didn’t even know if Chance had a girlfriend these days… or heaven forbid, a wife and ten kids. And Bradley had headache enough dealing with his own mess without getting involved in that kind of drama.
     
    Bradley would do best to remember this is why Taylor Swift wrote more breakup songs than the ones about getting a Happily Ever After with someone. You may be enchanted to meet someone, hope they don’t have someone at home waiting on them, but it always ends up with more bad blood. Hopeless. This was no