The pastor's daughter at nineteen had spent her entire life as the perfect example, modest dresses, Bible study every evening.
She had watched Ryder Black for years. The town’s notorious bad boy, twenty five years old with broad shoulders and messy dark hair, eyes that burned with rebellion. He was everything her father warned against. Everything she secretly craved.
Grace had left him a note earlier, slipped into the pocket of his motorcycle at the diner. Midnight. The church. Come alone. I need to confess something.
Now she waited on the altar steps in a simple dress that suddenly felt far too revealing. The door creaked open. Ryder stepped inside.
“Grace?” His voice was low, rough. “What the hell is this?”
She stood slowly, cheeks burning. “I… I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Ev
