Page 17 of Hotter 'N Hell

“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.

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