Six
Saylor
The wild blond hair that flipped up in messy curls all over was the first thing I spotted when I walked into Vapiano. Gathe had called to see where I was, and when I told him I’d be meeting with a lady at a clothes closet downtown, he’d asked if I wanted to have lunch. His pale green eyes met mine, and he grinned. I walked past the hostess stand and to the booth he was seated at.
“Hey, stranger,” he said teasingly.
I slipped in across from him. “That is not my fault. You’ve been busy.”
He leaned forward “You have turned down five”—he held up his fingers as if I needed a demonstration—“of my invitations to get together somewhere.”
I took the linen napkin from the table and placed it in my lap. “All five times, you were at Bane’s,” I replied. “You invited me here. And, voilà, here I am.”
He groaned and leaned back in his seat. “How much longer are you going to do this? Halo is married to Bane. That kid is his now. And, well, Saylor, you don’t want to hear this, but you are gonna like her. I swear it.”
Eh, doubt that . And not because I thought she was a bitch. Simply because she was everything I was not. She was the bird. I was the dog. I didn’t like being the dog.
“Let’s not discuss that,” I replied. “I want to hear about something else. Something that doesn’t involve the last name Cash.”
He let out a heavy sigh. “Fine,” he conceded. “Why don’t you tell me what a clothes closet is and why you are meeting at one?”
I approved of this topic change. Seeing as I basically had no friends, I hadn’t been able to talk about it or my ideas. And since I had spoken to Sister Mena on the phone, I had spent the past five days making all kinds of outlines and graphs, drawing up ideas, and finding examples online, and I’d put it all neatly in the binder, which was currently on the passenger seat of my car.
“It is a charity that provides clothes for those who can’t afford it. They are given donations, much like thrift stores, except they give it away, not sell it, and they also receive monthly monetary donations to help stock it with new and used items,” I explained. “But right now, it just has items in large boxes, piled against the wall. There are some racks, but they have so many things crammed on them that it is difficult to look through. It is less appealing than a thrift store, and you know how I feel about those.
“I just think that if Joe off the street, who might rely on the shelter in town for somewhere to sleep, wants to come in and get a new pair of pants or a shirt, he deserves something nicer to walk into. Less degrading. If Jane, who has kids she needs to clothe and has fallen on hard times, needs some help, wouldn’t it be nicer for her to come into a place that feels clean and organized, where it’s easy to find things?”
Gathe was smiling as he took a sip of his water. “This is the trees all over again,” he said.
Why hadn’t I realized that everyone remembered that? Had it been that impressive?
“I hope it has a bigger impact than the trees. Although, now that I’ve been reminded of them, I am going to start that back up this year.”
His eyes widened. “Please, can I just give you money? Don’t make me go.”
The waitress arrived at our table. “Can I get you anything other than water to drink?”
“Sweet tea,” Gathe told her.
“Water is fine, thank you.”
“Are you ready to order?”
Gathe looked at me, and I nodded.
“Baked ziti, mushroom risotto, and Sicilian sausage spaghetti,” he informed her, handing her his menu. “Bring two plates. We share.”
She nodded and glanced at me to take my menu, then realized I’d been watching her eye-fuck Gathe. The blush was immediate, and she hurried away. I snickered and shook my head. The surfer-boy look reeled them in every time.
“Don’t hate,” he said, smirking.
I rolled my eyes. He was so full of himself. He always had been.
“All right, back to your plan to turn the clothes pantry into a boutique.”
“It’s a closet, not a pantry,” I corrected him, then paused.
Did we have a pantry in town? I hadn’t seen one when I was doing my search. There was a shelter and a soup kitchen in Jackson. Actually, there were three locations there. But what about here?
“What have you thought of now?” he asked, interrupting my thoughts.
I reached for my water. “That if there is room, maybe we could add a food pantry. A one-stop shop. They come in, get the clothes they need, pick up some staples, and then maybe, on specific days, we even offer a hot soup that they can take to go.”
Gathe chuckled. “Glad I could help.”
I started to say more when my gaze caught sight of a familiar head of dark hair outside, walking toward the entrance. I turned in the booth to look back as Father Jude walked into Vapiano. I mean, the church was right across the road. And Threads of Love and Hope was in the first row of businesses to the left of the church. I had just been trying not to think about it.
His gaze swung this way, as if he could feel someone staring him down. I’d been caught, so I smiled and lifted a hand to wave before turning back around. Gathe’s eyes were watching me curiously.
“You just waved at a priest.”
I nodded.
“Wait, is he the priest at”—Gathe paused and looked out the window to read the sign outside the church—“Holy Rosary?”
I hesitated. “Yes.” No point in lying since he could google it on his phone.
Gathe’s gaze lifted over my head. “Looks like the priest is coming to say hello. Let me guess; he is the one who holds those group meetings.”
The accusation in his tone pissed me off. Gathe Bowen did not know everything. He was assuming stuff.
“Shut up,” I hissed, trying to look relaxed before Father Jude got to us.
“Hello.”
I’d forgotten the effect his Texas drawl seemed to have on me.
“Saylor.” He said my name, and I smiled up at him.
He wasn’t all smooth and clean-shaven today. And in his jeans and short-sleeved black shirt, he was rather…well, mouthwatering.
Damn him.
“Father Jude,” I replied. “It’s nice to see you again.”
His gaze held mine briefly before he turned his attention to Gathe.
“Oh, Father Jude, this is my friend, Gathe Bowen. We grew up together. Gathe, Father Jude is the priest at Holy Rosary,” I spouted as if he hadn’t already known that. If he said as much, I would stab him in the hand with my fork.
Gathe’s eyes flickered to me, as if he might just give away that I’d been talking about him. Shooting warning daggers at him was difficult with someone else right there, watching the entire interaction.
Gathe turned his eyes back to Father Jude. “It’s nice to meet you. I was unaware Saylor knew anyone remotely associated with the church or God.”
Thanks, dickhead.
Jude’s deep chuckle sent a swarm of tingles through my body. When his eyes swung back to me, my breath stuttered.
“I haven’t seen you since Palm Sunday. I hope we didn’t scare you off,” he said.
I had to bite my tongue to keep from replying, Oh, I didn’t know you’d noticed me . That would have been rude and petty.
I’d had time to think it through, and entertaining ideas like that about a priest was pointless. He wasn’t going to see me in that way. He didn’t do sex.
“No. It was very interesting. I’ve just been busy,” I replied.
“You were missed on Saturday night,” he told me.
Had I been though?
I decided to make light of it. “I’m sure there wasn’t much time to dwell on my absence with Sibby there to entertain everyone with all her words.”
He covered up a laugh with a cough, as if he needed to clear his throat.
Caught ya, Father . She’s annoying as fuck, and you know it.
I raised my eyebrows as I smirked.
The corners of his mouth curled up slightly. His lips were delicious any day of the week, but when he went without shaving for a few days and he had that thick, scruffy thing happening? Whew. I wanted to put my hands on his face. Feel it under my fingertips. See if those lips felt as soft as they looked.
“Yes, well, her talking didn’t fill your void. I hope you’ll return,” he told me.
Don’t do that, Father. Don’t make me want to come see you again. It’s just a torturous tease.
“Perhaps,” I replied because I was hoping for the strength not to go back.
He nodded his head once, but the glint of disappointment in his eyes didn’t go unnoticed. Was he that worried about helping me?
“I’ll keep my fingers crossed,” he replied. Then, he glanced over at Gathe. “It was nice meeting you, Gathe. I’ll leave you both to your lunch.”
“Yeah, you too,” Gathe replied.
“Bye,” I said, and his eyes lingered on me for a moment longer before he walked away.
I watched him, wondering if he had meant to look at me as if he was memorizing my face.
“You’re gonna split the gates of hell wide open. Like a fucking explosion,” Gathe said.
I jerked my eyes off Father Jude’s backside and turned to Gathe.
He held up his hands with his fingertips pressed together before making them fly open like a bomb was going off, mouthing the word, Boom , as his eyes danced with amusement.
“Shut up,” I snarled.
“They might find a place worse for you. Somewhere hotter ’n’ hell.”
“I haven’t done anything wrong,” I told him. Unless masturbating while fantasizing about a priest was wrong because, yeah, I’d done that a few times or more.
“Seriously, Saylor. Come on. That man is so fucking hot for you. He might have to go back to his office and jerk one off after this.”
I shifted in my seat. Not an image I needed, Gathe . I was already struggling.
“Priests don’t do that. He is a Catholic priest, and they have to take a vow of celibacy.”
Gathe looked at me as if that was ludicrous. “How the hell do you know? You’re not Catholic. You’re not even a fucking Christian.”
I picked up my water. “I googled it.”
He covered his mouth to smother his laughter.
“I am five seconds away from throwing my water in your face,” I warned.
Why had I admitted that to him? He’d never let me live it down.
“I’m sorry. But you googled if that man could fuck or not?” He gave me a side-eye. “You know what you’re doing. Don’t lie. You’re flashing them dimples, batting those pretty blues at the man, and showing him leg and cleavage. Working his ass up, making him so damn horny that he can’t remember who the Lord is.”
My nails bit into my palms as I fisted my hands in my lap. I didn’t need to hear this. The thought that Father Jude could be attracted to me, that I made him hard, that he might possibly jerk off to thoughts of me…was getting to me.
I had to get that out of my head. Focus on something else. Threads of Love and Hope—I would focus on it. On what I was going to do to make my life have a point. A purpose. I wasn’t going to lust after a priest.