Chapter 1: The Produce Aisle

Rachel Ellison stood in the produce section of the large grocery store two towns over and watched the way the late-afternoon light caught the fine hairs on the arm of the man selecting peaches. He was tall, maybe six-two, with short dark hair and the kind of shoulders that filled out a plain gray polo. No wedding ring. She had driven thirty minutes just for this, leaving the parsonage empty while David sat in a deacons’ meeting that would run until at least five-thirty.

She had dressed carefully: a thin white sundress that ended mid-thigh, no bra, and a pair of black lace panties that were already damp against her skin. The dress was modest enough that no one would stare, but light enough that the shape of her breasts was clear when she turned. At thirty-four she still had the body that had made David’s eyes go wide on their wedding night—full breasts, soft waist, wide hips, and a mouth she had long ago learned how to use. David rarely asked for it anymore. She stepped closer, letting her hip brush the man’s forearm as she reached for a peach just out of her range.

“Excuse me,” she said, voice low. “Could you get me one of those from the top?”

He turned. Blue eyes. A small scar through one eyebrow. He handed her the peach without speaking at first, then seemed to register the way her dress pulled across her chest.