Page 21 of Priest

He stops in his tracks and then gives me a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry, honey. I’m taking it you guys were close?”

“Yeah, we were.” Something about being around these people makes me want to open up. But I can’t do that. Nobody can know the real truth. If they do, I’m dead. For real this time. “I miss her every day.”

“I’m sure she’s looking down on you now, cooking her food and helping the needy. I’m sure she’d be proud.”

Even though I’m homeless and destitute, I know she would be too because I did what she said; I took my opportunity and I ran.

I didn’t know that night that I’d be running for my life. I had no freaking idea, but leaving on my own accord wasn’t an option. My family would’ve found me and brought me back, and the consequences of that would’ve been disastrous. Nobody defames or embarrasses the family by voluntarily leaving. I also know Leo would’ve found me. He had an unhealthy obsession with me being his wife, all while screwing around behind my back. I would run again, a million times over, if it meant I was free of him.

“I don’t know about that, but I know she’d be happy I was doing things my way. Even if it means I don’t have much.”

I don’t know why I even say that, but he looks like he understands. “I come from a small town. Let’s just say diversity is not a celebrated thing where I grew up. I know about not fitting in.”

I look down at my chopping board. “I’ve never really fit in anywhere,” I admit. “Except here. I like coming here. I can forget about things for a while.”

“Well, that’s a good thing then. And the bonus is you get to share a home-grown recipe with me.” He beams and I can’t help but smile as well. My heart swells with the idea that I’m even being helpful to someone, instead of in the way or a general nuisance.

“Let’s say we knock ‘em dead, honey buns?”

I nod. “I think that sounds like a plan I can get on board with.”

I begin to chop more mushrooms and then Manny brings out one of the huge pots and puts it on the stove. The order of ingredients is important, and we can’t let the cream curdle too early. When I begin putting the ingredients into the pot and the aroma floods the kitchen, I can’t help but think of my Nonna and all the memories we shared when I was allowed to see her as a child.Us cooking in her kitchen and me getting flour everywhere still makes me laugh. She never got mad, she always encouraged me and believed that food brought people together. I guess she was right.

I opened up to Manny and I realize now that I shouldn’t have said anything. But I really don’t feel like the people here will hurt me. They’re my people.

“That smells delicious,” I hear Priest behind me as I stir the pot and turn off the heat. It’s cooked to perfection. It’s been a while since I made this dish, but I can see that I’m not as rusty as I thought.

“Hopefully it tastes even better,” I say over my shoulder. “Did you want to try some?”

He starts to head my way and I try not to notice his large frame. The way the tattoos on his neck peek out from under his shirt. He’s washed his hair, though it’s cropped really short, I can see it’s wet. He smells divine, like the woods and something spicy… all things I should not be noticing.

“You mean, I’m allowed a taste test before anyone else?”

I nod, eager to hear what he thinks.

I dip the spoon into the pot without thinking and then hold it out to him. Before I know what’s even happening, he leans down and blows on the spoon, steam billowing from the cauldron.

My eyes meet his and the humor he had vanishes suddenly. I don’t know what he sees when he looks at me, but I hope to God it’s not sympathy. His lips part and I feed him the food. Feed him!

I try to stop the racing of my heart, the thrill of seeing his eyes close and hearing his groan leave his lips as he tastes my food, the throb between my legs grows. This man does things to me that no man ever has. He makes me feel things that are forbidden and wrong. But every time he utters a kind word, I want to bury myself in all things Priest and not come up for air.

The level of feeling astonishes me as I look away. “Is that a good groan, or a bad one?” I try to keep my tone light.

“That is the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” he tells me. When I meet his gaze again, he’s being deadly serious. “And I’m not even that much a fan of mushrooms.”

“The trick is to not crowd them,” I whisper. “We also hand-made the pasta, it’s not that hard.”

For a split second, something passes between us. I know he feels it. I’m not a complete imbecile. I just don’t know what any of it means.

This man can’t have feelings for me because look at me… who would want a girl like me the way I look now? I don’t even have a home or a dime to my name. I don’t have anything to make myself look pretty for him. Just soap and water and shampoo. It isn't enough. It would never be enough to hold a man like him. Yet, when he looks at me, I feel like he can see into my soul. Like he really gets me.

Priest is the only man who’s ever looked at me like I’m not a ghost.

I’ll take that as a win.

5

PRIEST

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