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I laughed because I had thought the exact same thing once upon a time. “Gleaming white T-shirt it is, but I will grab you another shirt that is at least close in case it gets chilly. With night vision, maybe it won’t be noticeable. Or we can explain it away on camera somehow. Do you need jeans?”
“It flew, didn’t drop, thank goodness. I was able to clean off the couple of spots on my lower half. My torso is a lost cause. Ah, crap. I gotta run. We have another rush, and I’m short-staffed. See you soon?”
“Absolutely. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” I disconnected.
I’d always found it admirable that Pax had started and ran a soup kitchen in the neighborhood. Even with as busy as he was, he still found a way to put in time there himself. He’d hired a great staff to oversee things when he had to work the show, but he always made sure to make an appearance and offer counseling and support, and nearly every extra dime he made went into Chasing Hope. He even had about six cots in a new build section of the warehouse and used it as a shelter for when things got really bad with some of his regulars, or he saw people in need on the streets. We’d talked in great detail about how it bothered him that he couldn’t help everyone, but he had a soft spot for women and children and did everything he could to ensure they were safe and on the right path to rehabilitation.
I didn’t know a ton about Pax’s past—he was pretty tight-lipped about it—but in the years I’d known him, I’d learned enough and read between the lines enough times to know that he had a very strained relationship with his father. His mother had died some time ago of cancer, right about the time Pax had lost his collar and his grandfather disappeared I believed, and his dad and sister had basically cut him off. I didn’t know if it had to do with what’d happened with Pax and the Church or what, seeing as Pax’s father was also a priest, and a very well-established one at that. He’d apparently even been given special permission by the bishop to perform major rites of exorcism and was always a backup if we ever needed some big guns on the show despite their estrangement. He was the only exorcist in the area, after all. Still, it always seemed to me that Pax was searching for a way to fill a void in his life. To do even more good than he already did. And I wasn’t entirely sure why. Maybe I’d ask him one of these days.
I pulled up to Pax’s house and shut off the engine, getting out of the car and eyeing what looked to be about three steps from the porch. Just as Pax had said, one of the pavers was a bit more orange than the rest and it came up easily, revealing a weatherproof box and the spare key inside.
I let myself into the home and took in the interior. I had been to Pax’s house several times before to pick him up or drop him off but had never been inside. It surprised me a little. I wasn’t sure why, but I’d expected the quintessential bachelor pad. What I found was a cozy home with mismatched furniture that somehow still all worked together, and accents that were purposeful and not haphazard. He even had accent pillows; something most guys I’d met insisted were pointless and stupid. I smiled and nodded, thinking I’d have to tell him that I approved.
I made my way through the house to where I assumed the master bedroom was. As I walked down the hall, I stopped to take in the gallery of framed photographs, seeing Pax at different ages with different people. He honestly hadn’t changed much. And he always looked carefree and happy. There was one of him on a mountain—I’d had no idea he was the adventurous sort. Another of him with who I assumed was his younger sister on a beach. There was one of him in his clerical gear with a few other priests outside of what looked to be a monastery, somewhere exotic. Maybe even Tibet.
When I got to the end of the hall, the largest picture pulled me in. It was of a much younger Paxton, maybe in his early twenties, in front of a large house, his arm around an older man who looked so much like Pax, I knew they were related. But the age difference was much greater than father and son. I assumed it was his grandfather. The man had on black clothing, his priest’s collar gleaming in contrast. Pax was dressed casually as he always was, but the love on his face was evident for all to see.
I moved in closer and took in the other man’s features. He looked so familiar to me, though I wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was just the resemblance. After all, I spent a lot of time taking Pax in when he wasn’t looking. Seriously, the guy was hot. Like h-a-w-t hot. But it felt like it was more than that. Maybe I’d seen him around town. New Orleans was big, but it wasn’t all that big, and the world tended to be a much smaller place than most people realized.
I shook myself out of my reverie and made my way to the room at the end of the hall, entering a bedroom done in rich wood with dark blues and soft greens and accents of, interestingly enough, peach. It was warm and inviting and kind of sexy, and I once again gave Pax props for his decorating style.
I found another bright white T-shirt in the dresser, grabbed a flannel from the walk-in, and made my way back out to the car, locking up behind myself and securing the key back where I’d found it.
When I reached the soup kitchen, I saw the line out the door. I checked my watch and noticed that we only had an hour and a half before we needed to be back at Lamour. I grabbed an energy shot out of my bag, downed it in a gulp, and headed inside with Pax’s clothes.
He saw me as I walked in and waved me over from behind the counter. He looked adorable in his apron and hair net, but I saw that his shirt was, indeed, an absolute mess. He hadn’t been kidding.
“Hey,” I said as I reached him. “Hopping place today.”
He rolled his eyes. “Understatement of the year. And one of my newest hires up and quit this morning with no notice, so when I got here, the rest of them were trying to hold down the fort without bothering me but it was clear they were struggling. I had to jump in and help. What time is it?”
I looked at my watch again. “Too late for you to still be this busy. Do you want some help?”
He stared at me for a beat. “Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack. Just give me an apron and one of those fancy hats, and I’ll slop some grub.”
“Damn, woman. I could kiss you,” he said and turned away to go and grab me what I needed. At least, I assumed. But that wasn’t what had my attention. What did was the way my insides reacted when he’d said what he had. My libido perked up as if saying,Yes, please.
When he came back, my gaze immediately went to his mouth. His full, plump lips the color of sugared strawberries. I wondered if they’d taste as sweet as they looked.
I reached back, pulling my hair into a messy bun at the nape of my neck and securing it with the hair tie I always kept around my wrist before looking up. His eyes were chips of ice, but they weren’t cold. No, they burned. His gaze rose from my chest and clashed with mine, and I saw the interest there. Interest I knew was mirrored on my face.
He handed me a bundle, and I got to work donning my gear before taking the spot beside him to help dish stew to the queue of patrons.
An hour later, everyone had been served, he’d recruited some regulars to help clean up by offering them some money for their next evening meal outside of the kitchen, instructed his staff to keep an eye on things and take care of the restaurant vouchers, and we were cleaned up and ready to head back to the Lamour Mansion.
“Thank you for stepping in today,” he said and straightened the tails of the shirt I’d brought for him.
“My pleasure,” I said and let my hair down, shaking out the long, thick strands with my hands and giving my scalp a rest since I figured I’d probably have it up for most of the night. “You looked like you could use it, and it weirdly invigorated me. I was feeling super drained, but just being in here with you gave me a boost.”
He smiled and handed me a bottle of water. “As exhausting as it can be, I completely understand what you mean. I think it’s the Karma.”
I laughed. “It’s interesting to hear you talk about Karma,Padre.” I grinned and took a sip of the water.
He hitched a thumb at himself. “Not a one-trick pony. JC may be my homeboy, but I’m a well-rounded spiritual gangsta.”
I lost it and sprayed my mouthful of water all over the place. Choking, I tried to get the words out. “Wow. Okay. Props for originality.” I winked. “What do you say we skedaddle?”
