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She may not be mine to protect from assholes like him, but I can stop this particular asshole from continuing that behavior, at the very least. That would be my good fucking deed where Avery Matheson is concerned.
“What will you be having, sir?” the bartender calls from a few chairs down.
“Whiskey. Neat,” I respond.
She gives me a brief nod back before beginning to pour my drink. This place has good service consistently. Sliding it across to me, she gives me a flirty wink before moving on to the next customer.
With bleach blonde hair twisted into a bun on top of her head and cleavage spilling out of her tight tank top, in the past, I would have found her attractive. I probably would have fucked her regularly. But now she does nothing for me, not when Avery Matheson has fucking taken over my headspace.
And that’s a big fucking problem.
Fuck, she’s married. I know I’m a priest, but that makes this whole attraction even worse. We both can’t be so fucking off-limits to the other.
When I called her Mrs. Matheson, she flinched at the title. There has to be something more to that for her to have had such a visceral reaction to it.
Yes, I did it on purpose; I didn’t need to say her name at all. But I sure as hell wasn’t expecting that kind of response in return.
She’s either not happy or feeling sheepish because of our fucking stare down earlier during Mass before she knew I was a priest, and I became even more taboo.
It’s for the best. Like I said, she’s married, and I’m a priest. We are both as off-limits as it comes for me to even entertain this notion at all.
I just can’t believe such a gorgeous woman like her exists in this world. She takes my breath away. Her sad eyes spoke volumes as I watched her from a distance.
Taking a large swig of my whiskey helps distract me from this train of thought, at least. I love the way it burns going down my throat.
I sit my glass back down on the coaster with a light swirl.
It’s a nice day outside. The temperature is starting to cool down. Looking around the patio, I begin one of my favorite hobbies, people-watching. It’s not too crowded yet, but that will soon change as the evening approaches.
During my perusal of the room, I come to an immediate halt.
This is the moment I realize God sure as fuck hasn’t forgiven me for my past sins. Because I’m looking right at two stunning blue eyes and a pouty mouth slightly parted, mirroring my shock to see the other.
A mouth that is demanding me to take it roughly. To be consumed.
Avery Matheson is here.
Fucking fate, right?
Chapter 5
When I am afraid, in you I place my trust. I praise the word of God; I trust in God, I do not fear. What can mere flesh do to me?
Psalm 56:4-5
Of course, I run into Father Lachlan.
One of two men I am actively trying to avoid at the moment for two very different reasons.
I down the rest of my martini in one gulp. I can’t catch a break today.
As a priest, Father Lachlan is gorgeous, but now, in this Henley? I’m a puddle. What is it about men in Henleys? They instantly make any man’s hot factor go up a point.
Of course, this forbidden, wildly sexy man is going to tempt me in every way possible. Including by now being at my favorite bar while I am actively trying to forget him and my marital problems.
Note to self: Try harder to stop calling Father Lachlan sexy.
After wiping the sides of my mouth with the white cocktail napkin, I plaster on my usual fake smile ready to say hello. This particular smile is like my armor. I know who I’m supposed to be with it on. The Mrs. Avery Matheson who everyone thinks they know. Meanwhile, I’m drowning on the inside.
