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A ripple of silence spread through the night. Turning, I found Father Mason emerging from indoors, a guitar slung over his shoulder, the other Fathers trailing behind him. An immediate grin lit up my face. I’d had no idea he played, but I remembered hearing someone play music in the Father’s quarter when I accidentally stumbled in there.
Father Mason sauntered over to an empty log seat beside a blonde, his robe catching the firelight as he settled down. His fingers brushed against the strings, the familiar sounds of tuning punctuating the night air.
“I figured tonight’s gathering was missing some entertainment,” he said, his voice rich with amusement. He strummed a chord, then began to play a soft tune. His fingers moved across the strings, each note resounding around us. At one point, he glanced up, his gaze meeting mine across the fire, and for a heart-stopping moment, I felt like he was playing the song for me.
My lips tingled with the memory of his mouth against mine, kissing me relentlessly, his tongue swirling with mine. I loved the way his teeth nipped at my lips, and just remembering it had me making a faint moaning sound.
Another glance up, and he was studying me again, an excited shiver racing up my spine.
The other girls seemed to lean in toward him, their eyes shining in the firelight.
Father Logan approached us, distracting me, his gaze on my friend.
“Lily, can you please head into the kitchen and bring out two more large bags of the big marshmallows? We’re running low.”
“You got it.” She was on her feet in seconds, pushing her stick into my hands, then she was gone.
Logan slipped into her vacated spot beside me.
I narrowed my gaze at him. “Did you just kick Lily out of her spot so you could steal her seat?” I teased.
His lips quirked up. “Guilty as charged,” he confessed, making me chuckle.
As the fire’s dancing light cast playful shadows on Logan’s strong face, I was helplessly drawn to him, far more than I cared to admit. He was handsome, his features chiseled yet soft in the glow of the fire, and it was hard to view him as just a priest. Especially when the memory of him in the shower was always on my mind.
And darn it, he was sitting close. So close that every so often, his robe brushed against me, sending jolts of desire through me. His warmth seeped into me. Yet, it wasn’t just his warmth. It was the intense look in his eyes when he held my gaze, the square set of his jaw, and the way he spoke with me, all of which kept pulling me in a direction I’d promised myself I wouldn’t go.
Who was I kidding? I could feel myself slipping and feeling things for him I shouldn’t. And it wasn’t just him. The Fathers were getting under my skin, and I was losing my grip on my promise not to let them.
“Everything okay?” Father Logan’s voice broke through my thoughts, catching me off guard.
Caught in the moment, I blurted out, “If you weren’t a priest…” Realizing what I’d just said, my face started burning up. “I mean, um, not that... uh…” I glanced down, wanting to vanish into the night.
He just laughed, soft and warm. “Don’t worry,” he said, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Some days, I wish the same.”
I blinked, surprised at his admission.
“But go on,” he encouraged, leaning forward, his attention solely on me. “What were you going to say?”
“Just that…” I hesitated, my mind buzzing with possible explanations. I wasn’t going to admit that I had been thinking about kissing him if he wasn’t a priest. Then again, I had done it with Father Mason, hadn’t I? What was wrong with me?
“Just that if you weren’t a priest, what do you think you’d be doing?” I finally managed to get out.
His face softened as he contemplated the question.
“Well, I’ve always loved tinkering,” he began, his hand absentmindedly running through his short mohawk, those sharp green eyes focused on me. “Growing up, I was the neighborhood handyman, hot-wiring cars and fixing broken appliances for some extra cash. So, I guess... I’d open up my own car mechanic store.” His eyes seemed to glaze over as if he imagined the dream playing out in his mind. “I’d start small,” he began, “A little garage in the heart of the city. I’d want to make it a place that people trust, where they know they’d get honest work for a fair price.”
A soft smile played on his lips.
“I’d hire some of the local kids, teach them a skill, a chance to earn a decent wage. There are so many young people who need that sort of break, you know?”
“That sounds amazing.” I enjoyed a different side to Father Logan, a peek beneath the strong, sexy mask he wore.
“We’d service all kinds of vehicles, and for those who couldn’t afford it, I’d make some exceptions.”
As he painted a picture of his dream, I was struck by the detail behind it. He wasn’t just talking about a business. He was talking about a community, about giving back, about using his passion to make a difference. I was completely captivated by his vision.
“What about you?” he asked, turning the question on me. “What do you want to do with your life?”
