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“I don’t—”
“Do it, Tor.”
“Fine, I’ll do it,” I say, my stomach instantly tightening and leaving me feeling sick.
“Good girl. I’m not sure when I will get back here, but I’ll get word to you next week and let you know if I’ve had any luck.”
“You need to hurry this up, Dad. Because if you don’t, I’ll pull myself out of here.”
“You always were a pain in my ass.”
“Like father, like daughter,” I laugh. I put my hand up against the screen and he does too.
“Love you, baby girl,” he mumbles and I smile.
“Love you too, Dad.”
He leaves and I stay where I’m at. I don’t want to risk going out and hugging him, even if he is wearing a priest’s robe. All I need is for Elise to come in and ask me why I’m bear hugging a priest. The bitch would tell everyone and then I’d have to kill her and I have enough on my plate.
Like how to say goodbye to Logan, when it’s the last thing I want to do.Devil“You’re late, Angel,” I tell her as she walks toward the bench I’m sitting on.
Our bench.
I’ve been meeting Torrent here for the last couple of weeks, and we’ve not even kissed. I’ve not touched her since that day I held her in my lap, except for holding her hand a couple of times. Still, I’ve enjoyed my time with her more than with any other woman I can remember. She’s got a wry sense of humor that keeps me on my toes. She’s sarcastic and witty and when she laughs I swear I feel it hit me deep inside. She feels like pure sunlight when it shines on you after a week of rainstorms.
I’ve been a lover of women my whole life, but I’m not stupid. Eventually, I knew I’d find the one that I wanted to keep. I didn’t want a club girl. There’s nothing wrong with them; I never wanted to claim an old lady who had been hardened by the life we live. I never wanted a woman in my bed who also warmed my brother’s bed. That makes me a bastard, I freely admit it. It doesn’t alter the truth. I wanted something special when I decided to settle down and Torrent is definitely something special.
There’s only one major problem with her and that’s the vows she’s made for her life. She refuses to talk about it, and so far I haven’t pressed her. But the other day we almost kissed and I saw the want in her eyes. She wanted my lips on hers. It’s time I start pushing her, because I don’t have a choice. I want her and I’m getting damned tired of holding back.
“I started not to show at all,” she says and right away I can tell she’s different today. Colder. There’s no welcome in her eyes, no smile on those cherry lips, and not one hint that she’s happy to see me. The abrupt change from this to the way she treated me yesterday is jarring.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, knowing something is.
“What could be wrong?”
“Because you’re coming off like an ice queen ready to freeze my damn balls,” I tell her bluntly. Torrent might be wearing the garb that says she’s innocent, but she hasn’t been acting that way with me and I’ve never pulled punches when talking to her. I’m not built that way. I am who I am. She seemed to have accepted me like that, but today I can see her visibly blanch at my words, as if they shock her…or she finds them distasteful… finds me distasteful.
What in the fuck has changed?
“Do you have to talk like that?” she whispers, looking around as if she’s embarrassed by me. I don’t know why Torrent is acting like this now, but I know I don’t like it.
“You didn’t have a problem with the way I talked yesterday,” I remind her. “Or the day before, or the day before that—”
“I did, but that’s part of the problem, Logan.”
I resist the urge to close my eyes when she says my name. Hardly anyone calls me Logan, and I’d be lying if I said that I don’t enjoy it when Torrent does. I like my name on her lips—probably too much.
“I didn’t realize there was a problem,” I mutter, because apparently there is. She’s not even sitting down this time. She’s standing in front of me wearing that damn nun garb—this time in black—and wringing her hands.
“What are you doing here?” she asks and her face looks almost panicked. I don’t like it at all. Torrent should only be smiling.
“Having lunch with my girl,” I tell her, hoping to joke enough so that she relaxes. Immediately I know that strategy isn’t going to work.
“That’s just it, Logan. I’m not your girl. I’ll never be your girl. My life is planned out and there’s no room for you in it.”
