His Good Thing: A Christian Romance

Contents Title Page Copyright Dedication Contents Newsletter Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Epilogue Praise Also by Faith Arceneaux About the Author Title Page Copyright Contents Beginning Also by Faith Arceneaux About the Author 
 
 His Good Thing
 A CHRISTIAN ROMANCE
 
 
 
 FAITH ARCENEAUX
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Copyright © 2023 by Faith Arceneaux
 All rights reserved.
 No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
 Created with Vellum
 
 
 
 
 To my beta readers — thank you for your time, energy, and feedback. As I begin this journey your support is beyond appreciated.
 Thank you, Jaleesa, Kristal, and Tyesha.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Contents
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Newsletter
 
 
 
 
 Chapter 1
 
 
 Chapter 2
 
 
 Chapter 3
 
 
 Chapter 4
 
 
 Chapter 5
 
 
 Chapter 6
 
 
 Chapter 7
 
 
 Chapter 8
 
 
 Chapter 9
 
 
 Epilogue
 
 
 
 
 Praise
 
 
 Also by Faith Arceneaux
 
 
 About the Author
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Newsletter
 
 
 
 
 
 I pray this story will inspire you, and at the least entertain you.
 If you love it, and want to be the first to hear about the next release, join my newsletter.
 Join Here: https://bit.ly/faith2love
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Chapter One
 
 
 
 
 
 Loren
 
 He didn’t look like a guy my mama would describe as “a good church boy.” Not the ones in Shiloh Missionary Baptist that she tried to introduce me to on Sunday mornings, or Wednesday Bible study. He wasn’t like any of the guys my dad, the pastor, would corner in his office when he knew I was stopping in for a visit. He didn’t look like he could recite the books of the Bible, or that his parents made him attend every day of summer Bible camp as a kid.
 No, he wasn’t that. At all.
 Because he wasn’t exactly telling me to “be blessed” when he saw me in the hallway of our apartment building, I often avoided him when I saw him. That day was no different. I saw him at the entrance, and as I followed behind him slowly, I dialed my sisters’ numbers. If I was on the phone with them, he couldn’t ask me if he could hit me up, if I wanted to stop by his place, or if he could stop by mine.
 We were standing in front of the elevator, and I gently smiled but looked away as I told my sisters, “Just getting home.” He didn’t look away though. He watched me the entire time. Not that I was looking. But I could feel his eyes on me. Or at least I thought I could from the way the hairs on the back of my neck were standing on end.
 “Today was good,” I said into the phone.
 If only Aubrie and Jorel understood what was going on. Instead of just going with the flow, Aubrie was shouting, “Girl, did you really just call us to have small talk? You know I need to get to the gym.”
 “Of course not,” I told her as the elevator doors parted and I averted my eyes from the apartment entrance where I was focused.
 “After you, sweetheart.” His grin was wide, but it wasn’t the only thing that caught my attention. The doors were being held open by his outstretched arm—an arm sporting a bulging muscle without him even flexing.
 I found the corner of the confined space and smiled before telling him, “Thank you.” Although the elevator would likely drop my call, I kept the phone to my ear as we rode to my floor—our floor. Again, he held the doors open for me as I stepped off. There was only silence on the phone, but I kept it to my ear as I made my way down the hall to my apartment, unlocked the door, and squeezed inside, not leaving him any space to ask me anything.
 The phone vibrated in my hand, Aubrie’s name flashing on my screen. “Girl,” I sighed as Aubrie spoke up, and I heard Jorel’s voice too. “Who was that?”
 I answered casually, “Just a friendly neighbor.”
 Jorel, my oldest sister who thought she was a proxy for my mama, asked, “Just how friendly is he?”
 I didn’t mention that since the day he moved into my building, about six months prior, he was trying to get at me. I reiterated, “He’s just a neighbor,” because since I wasn’t entertaining him, there was nothing worth mentioning.
 “From the sound of that voice,” Aubrie noted, “I don’t think I’d mind being his neighbor.”
 “Anyway,” I tried to change the subject before Aubrie demanded details on his looks. That was always her focus, but I was trying very hard not to make it mine. “Is this gift going to be ready for Daddy by next week?” With the church anniversary coming up, we were expected to have a gift to present to our dad, and like all the years prior we waited until the very last minute to collectively decide what we were getting for him.
 Jorel’s voice faltered, “I hope so.” Then she beamed, “All else fails, I think we can come up with a makeshift gift to hand him during the ceremony.” We did that a time or two in the past. “And for the reception, Sister Jenkins wants to know if the two of you will have a date.”
 A question that