Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“I didn’t realize,” Saylor said as I unlocked the rec hall, “that the church ran Threads of Love and Hope.”
Her expression when she had realized it already told me as much. There had been a part of me that would like to think she wanted a reason to be around me, and I had been torn between relief that this wasn’t about me and disappointed that it wasn’t about me. Messed up, but the truth.
I turned back to her, pushing the door open to let her inside. “And if you had known?” I asked, wishing I could take it back immediately. I shouldn’t have asked that. It opened up a door for things to be taken the wrong way.
She paused as she walked past me. There were mere inches between my chest touching her bare shoulder. My grip on the door tightened. The vanilla and cinnamon scent of her skin was close enough for me to smell.
“I would have come to you instead,” she replied matter-of-factly, then continued inside.
Focus, Jude. She isn’t here to flirt with you. She’s about to wash loads of used clothes that smell worse than a man’s locker room. And you are going to go meet with Father Heisler, then write your homily for the morning Mass before it is time for today’s confessional hour.
“You know I missed the whole Sister thing. I didn’t realize she was a nun. I thought it was some weird nickname thing,” Saylor told me.
She really had very little knowledge about religion.
“Sisters and nuns aren’t the same thing,” I explained, then motioned for her to follow me to the back, where the industrial washer and dryer were located.
“Oh. Well, what is a sister then? I heard the vows thing, and I assumed nun.”
That was common.
“Sisters take similar vows, but they live and work in their community. Nuns spend their lives in prayer and work within their monastery or convent. There are other differences, but that is the basic one.”
“So, that’s why she wasn’t wearing the head thing,” she said.
I chuckled. “It’s called a veil. Sister Mena owns one, and you might see her in it from time to time. Especially at Mass.”
“Does she own a robe too?”
“It’s a habit, and yes.”
When we entered the room with the washer and dryer, the small gasp from Saylor made it impossible not to look at her.
“This is perfect. It’s huge. I can get several loads in one.”
The fact that she was so excited about this made me want to hug her. Who was I kidding? I wanted to do more than hug her. Which was never happening because if I got that close, I didn’t know what I’d do. Possibly grab her and run. I needed to go back to my office. Get out the rosary. Read some scripture.
“The two five-gallon containers are laundry detergent. There is liquid fabric softener right over there in the blue gallon jug. Use whatever you need. If you have any issues, just let me know. Sister Mena might be difficult at first,” I warned.
Saylor gave me a half smile that still made one dimple pop. “If I go missing, you know who to question.”
Ah, why, Lord? Why did she have to be funny too? Was it not enough that she looked like that, smelled liked that, was begging to do a job no one wanted to do for those in need? I had to get out of here.
I started to leave and paused. She would have questions, and Sister Mena was going to make things hard. With all she was doing and for free…I was going to do something to make things a little easier—that was the only reason I was about to do this. Less tracking me down. Less seeing her. That was an excellent reason right there.
“Here, let me give you my number. If you need anything or have questions that Sister Mena isn’t helpful with, then this will be the quickest way to get in touch with me instead of having to hunt me down or going through the office to find me,” I explained.
She reached out and took my cell from my hands. I watched as she took a selfie, then typed in something before handing my phone back to me. “It’s in there. And I texted my phone so I’d have your number.”
I had a picture of Saylor in my phone. My hand tightened on it as if I were afraid someone was about to take it from me. I was leaving. Now.
“Great. Well, good luck, and thanks for this,” I told her.
The shy smile that touched her face was so unlike her that it took me a moment to snap out of it and walk away.
Father Heisler—I had to meet with him. Homily—I had to write my homily.
Hopefully, he was there because that would nix this erection. I didn’t want to write my homily with my dick pressing against my zipper. Closing my eyes, I mentally scolded myself. I had to get control of this.