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3rd POV
George Sr. dropped onto the couch like gravity had increased just for him. Pastor Jeff sat across from him, legs crossed neatly, looking more like a guest on a talk show than a pastor on a mission.
Georgie leaned back on the armrest, one leg up, one hand holding a soda can like it was a glass of bourbon. He wore his confidence like his flannel—comfortable and familiar. Sheldon sat in the recliner, arms crossed, watching everything like a scientist observing unstable molecules.
"So… how's married life?" George Sr. asked, trying his best to sound casual.
Pastor Jeff smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "It's… a journey. A blessing. A daily opportunity for growth."
Georgie raised an eyebrow. "That's exactly what people say right before they walk into divorce court."
Pastor Jeff blinked. "Excuse me?"
George Sr. groaned. "Georgie…"
Sheldon perked up. "Actually, statistically, Georgie is correct. The more vague and abstract someone is about their marriage, the higher the probability of it ending in failure."
Pastor Jeff opened his mouth—then closed it. "Well… thank you, Sheldon."
"You're welcome."
Georgie took a slow sip from his soda. "I'm just saying—Selena doesn't strike me as someone who lives off scripture and sermons. She seems like a woman who needs fire."
George Sr. dropped his head into his hands. "God help me…"
Pastor Jeff's brows furrowed. "Fire?"
Georgie leaned in slightly, his tone calm but cutting. "Metaphorical, Pastor. Not literal combustion."
He let the words linger for a beat, then added more softly, his voice suddenly sharper, more searching.
"But… I can see you're concerned. Something happen?"
Pastor Jeff glanced away, eyes flicking toward the hallway like he was hoping someone would interrupt.
He hadn't forgotten why he was really here.
Mary had called him—not as a clergyman, but as a worried mother. She had seen something in her son, something strange and dark beneath the charm, and it had unsettled her enough to ask for help.
Jeff wasn't here to pray. He was here to observe. To listen. And now that he was sitting across from Georgie… he understood why.
"Nothing happened," he said finally, too quickly.
His voice lacked conviction—and Georgie caught that.
But before Georgie could press further, Pastor Jeff forced a smile onto his face, like a man stepping off thin ice.
"I heard about your concert. Congratulations, Georgie. I read the article in Music Now Weekly, too!"
Georgie chuckled, letting the deflection slide—for now. "Thank you, Pastor Jeff. That was my first concert, actually. I just hope people had a good time... even if George Strait stole the spotlight right after I finished."
George Sr. snorted. "Don't remind me. You had them wrapped around your little finger, then he came in like a thunderstorm and snatched the whole stage. Because of you."
Sheldon nodded. "Dad is right. I observed several physiological responses among the audience—elevated heart rate, dilated pupils, spontaneous screaming. Some were likely experiencing dopamine surges."
Georgie grinned. "I'll take that as a compliment."
Pastor Jeff laughed softly, but his eyes once again drifted toward the kitchen, where clinking plates and the faint sounds of Spanish filled the air.
And then—
A voice drifted from the kitchen. Fast. Rhythmic. Effortless.
"¡Georgie tiene fuego en su mirada! Es como un joven Antonio Banderas—¡con más actitud!"
Sheldon blinked. Posture straightening like a predator catching a new frequency.
George Sr. raised an eyebrow. "What now?"
Sheldon lifted a finger. "I believe... I just heard Selena compare Georgie to Antonio Banderas... with more attitude."
Pastor Jeff's jaw stiffened. "Wait, what?"
Georgie grinned. "Did she really say that?"
Another string of excited Spanish followed:
"Y en mi país, un chico como él no estaría soltero por mucho tiempo."
Sheldon bolted upright, pointing dramatically at the ceiling.
"Oh no. She definitely just said—'In my country, a boy like him wouldn't stay single for long!'"
George Sr. choked on his drink. Pastor Jeff's head slowly turned toward Georgie with a deadpan stare that could curdle milk.
Mary's voice suddenly pierced the house from the kitchen:
"SHELDON!"
Sheldon flinched. "What did I do?"
Mary's head popped out from the doorway, her expression sharp as a steak knife. "If you're going to eavesdrop, get in here and translate properly!"
Sheldon huffed and stood, brushing imaginary dust from his shirt like a translator summoned into a diplomatic war zone.
"Fine. But I charge by the syllable."
He marched into the kitchen like an ambassador entering enemy territory.
Selena immediately lit up. "¡Ah! Mi traductor favorito. Ven aquí, pequeño genio."
"She said I'm her favorite translator. Also called me a little genius," Sheldon relayed dutifully.
"Tell her to stop flirting with you or Georgie and just pass the parmesan," Mary snapped.
"She's not flirting with me. She's just... emotionally effusive. Which is understandable, given the romantic content of her native language."
Connie raised a brow. "You sayin' English ain't romantic, Moonpie?"
Sheldon paused. "It's scientifically less efficient for expressing emotional depth, yes."
Missy whispered, "That means yes."
Selena returned to chopping basil, smiling to herself.
"Y su cabello... siempre está un poco desordenado. Muy adorable."
Sheldon sighed. "She said Georgie's hair is always slightly messy... and she finds it very adorable."
Mary's jaw clenched. "You tell her that if she calls my son adorable one more time, I'll throw this spaghetti in her lap."
Sheldon turned to Selena and translated... very loosely.
"She says thank you for your compliments, and dinner will be served shortly."
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*Georgie Pov
Okay.
I was just trying to tease this Hispanic woman a little. A harmless bit of seduction. But why does she keep looking at me like that? Even with her husband sitting right next to her!
Sure, I like the attention. Who wouldn't? But seriously—can you at least pretend to behave yourself, woman?!
After a few of Selena's stunts in the kitchen, I'd already earned a death stare from Mary, a disapproving frown from Dad, and something far worse from Pastor Jeff—a look that could strip paint off the walls.
And now, during dinner, she was still sneaking glances at me from the corner of her eye. Like I wouldn't notice. Like this wasn't completely insane.
Missy and Connie weren't helping. They were smirking—clearly enjoying the whole awkward mess like they bought front-row tickets for it.
God damn it.
All I did was poke a little fun at Pastor Jeff about his wife—the woman who clearly doesn't love him and looks bored out of her mind every time he opens his mouth. And honestly? I don't blame her.
He once said in the series that his wife was the kind of woman who could make a man do terrible things.
And you know what?
He was right.
Just look at her. She's been sending signals. Real ones.
"So, Georgie," Pastor Jeff's voice cut through the spaghetti steam, calm but laced with edge. "I heard you've been playing something interesting with your family?"
I looked at him. Then at Mary, whose dagger eyes had suddenly turned twitchy and awkward. She gave me a strained, hopeful smile.
"Well, Pastor Jeff—" she started.
But I cut her off. "Yes. We've been playing Dungeons & Dragons. I'm the Dungeon Master. I run a pirate story... 'The Curse of the Black Pearl'. Dark, thrilling, maybe a little intense."
I looked right at him—then glanced at Selena.
"Deberías unirte a nosotros alguna vez. Te haré un personaje. Tal vez una seductora a la que ni los piratas más fieros puedan resistirse."
("You should join us sometime. I'll make you a character. Maybe a seductress who even the fiercest pirates can't resist.")
God. Damn. It.
Of course I couldn't help myself. I've had my fair share of Hispanic, Asian, and blonde girls in my past life. They're stunning. They come to me like I'm gravity, and I never say no.
Selena smiled at me—slow, knowing, a look that could melt glaciers.
"Bueno, gracias, Georgie. ¿Puedo seducir a cualquiera con mi belleza? ...Quiero decir, en el juego."
("Well, thank you, Georgie. Can I seduce anyone with my beauty? …I mean, in the game?")
Sheldon narrowed his eyes and jumped in before I could answer. "No. No puedes simplemente seducir a cualquiera. Según las reglas, solo puedes coquetear con los personajes controlados por el Dungeon Master."
("No. You can't just seduce anyone. According to the rules, you're only allowed to flirt with characters controlled by the Dungeon Master.")
He said it in Spanish, of course. Of course.
Selena raised an eyebrow. "¿De verdad?" ("Really?") Then she turned to me with that look. "Creo que sí puedo." ("I think I can.")
Sheldon frowned, clearly distressed. Just as he opened his mouth to argue—
Dad's voice cut through the room like a shotgun blast:
"Okay, no more Spanish. English is the language at this table. Now."
Pastor Jeff, who only picked up a few keywords—mostly "beautiful" and "seduce"—shuffled in his seat, visibly uncomfortable. He didn't need a full translation to know he didn't like any of it.
"Alright then," he said finally, his voice smooth but laced with warning. "Maybe I'll rearrange my schedule and join one of your little game nights."
He looked at Mary as he said it, and she lowered her head.
The silence after that wasn't silence. It was noise trapped inside everyone's ribs.
Missy was still smiling at me. That same sweet, innocent little sister smile.
But behind that smile... was danger. Something cold. Something calculating.
I knew that look.
She had new blackmail material.
Of course she did.
"Do you like bowling?" Connie asked suddenly, like a godsend breaking the awkward tension. Her voice was casual, but her timing was surgical. She turned to Selena, then to Sheldon.
Dinner had somehow become more awkward, Selena was still throwing sultry glances my way—even with her husband sitting right there. Pastor Jeff looked like he was doing everything in his power not to explode. Mary kept trying to smooth over the conversation with painfully forced smiles. George Sr. just focused on finishing his plate like it was a war he planned to win.
Missy and Connie? Smirking the whole time.
Of course.
Chaos always had a seat at the Cooper dinner table.
The second Pastor Jeff finished the last bite of his spaghetti, he stood up like he was escaping a hostage situation. Without saying much, he gently tugged on Selena's wrist, clearly eager to leave.
Selena followed, reluctantly, grumbling something in Spanish under her breath. She looked like she wanted to stay… or at least stay long enough to stir more trouble.
"Well, tonight was… something else," Pastor Jeff muttered to Mary at the front door, wearing the most awkward smile I'd ever seen on a man of God.
"Yeah, sorry about my son here," George Sr. said with a chuckle, clapping me lightly on the back of the head. "He can't help himself when it comes to messing with people."
I rubbed the back of my head and shot him a glare. "I didn't do anything."
Of course, that's when Selena giggled.
That damn giggle!.
Pastor Jeff gave her a tight-lipped smile, trying to act like he hadn't heard it. But he had. We all had.
And then—right before they could finally leave—we all heard the unmistakable sound of a car pulling up in front of the house.
Pastor Jeff and Selena stopped, both of them watching as the headlights cut through the dark driveway like a movie entrance.
The door opened, and there she was—Fenley. Cool, elegant, deadly. She stepped out like she'd been waiting her whole life to interrupt this exact moment.
She walked to our house with confident smile on her face, "Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Cooper. Pastor," she said politely, with a soft, collected smile. Her eyes scanned the group... then flicked past Selena like she didn't even exist.
Selena's lip twitched.
Oh, she noticed.
"Miss Fenley," Mary said, confused. "What brings you here this late?"
"Well," Fenley replied calmly, "I'm here to pick up Georgie."
She glanced awkwardly toward Pastor Jeff, "Right. We'll let you go. Thank you again for dinner, Mary. May God bless your home." Pastor Jeff said after understanding the signal.
Selena, meanwhile, was fuming in silence, her smile frozen and furious.
And then she turned to me.
"Gracias por esta noche, mi guapo vaquero," (Thank you for tonight, my handsome cowboy,) she said with syrup in her voice. She leaned in close—way too close—and kissed my cheek.
"Quizás podamos hacer esto otra vez… solo tú y yo." (Maybe we can do this again… just you and me?) she whispered.
I blinked. I didn't even breathe.
God. Damn. It.
"Alright, that's enough," Pastor Jeff snapped, grabbing Selena's arm gently but firmly, and tugging her toward their car.
She didn't resist.
But she didn't stop smirking either.
Fenley narrowed her eyes at the scene, and Selena returned the look like they were two predators circling the same prey.
Mary and George Sr. just stood there, trying their best to smile like none of this was horrifying.
"Please, come in," Mary said quickly, waving Fenley inside.
And just like that, Fenley flipped her expression into a perfect, sweet smile.
"Thank you, Mrs. Cooper. Mr. Cooper." But when her eyes found me again, that smile twisted to frowned a little bit.
She passed by, and I heard a little snort from her lips.
I sighed, deeply, knowing exactly what that meant.
And I was already thinking about how I'd deal with her later.
Maybe in bed. With handcuffed and else.
Maybe somewhere a little less comfortable...
Like a public restroom with busy hour.