Hot Under His Collar - Andie J. Christopher Page 0,68
He hadn’t intended to sin, but he’d done it anyway. And the thought that he’d hurt Sasha was even more torturous than having to live with violating his vows. She’d told him that they were not a thing when she’d walked out of the bar. But she’d kissed him, and he’d kissed her back.
She made him question everything. She terrified him.
His maudlin reverie was cut off by Hannah’s sharp laugh. “You really like her, don’t you?”
“Of course I like her.” Patrick shouldn’t really be discussing this with her. “She’s my friend.”
Hannah rolled her eyes at him. “Okay, if you’re going to play it this way, I’m just going to have to lay it out.”
Patrick could see why his best friend loved this woman. She didn’t let him get away with anything. “If you hurt her anymore, if you lead her on and make her think you’re leaving the priesthood for her only to chicken out like a fucking punk, I will make the fires of hell look like a damned picnic in the park.”
“Noted.”
Hannah nodded. “Now sign these contracts so that I can go home and defile my husband.”
Patrick was jealous, but just looked at her. “I’m still a priest, you know.”
“Yeah, like I care.” Hannah smiled, and Patrick knew that she hadn’t been bluffing about being more arduous than hellfire. “I like to see your collar in a wad.”
The insinuation being that he shouldn’t be wearing one anymore.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
THE LAST PLACE THAT Patrick wanted to be was at the reception for Matt and Bridget’s second wedding. He felt guilty about being relieved that they’d decided to get married at City Hall—Matt wasn’t Catholic, and Bridget wasn’t a churchgoer. But Patrick would have preferred to avoid the whole thing. Now that Jack and Hannah knew there was something going on, or something had gone on, he didn’t doubt that all their friends knew there was more than a crush between the two of them.
He couldn’t beg off, however, because Bridget would be deeply disappointed in him. He was genuinely happy that she’d found happiness after her toxic relationship with his brother. She was like family—sometimes more like family than his own—and he liked to think he was made of sterner stuff than making an excuse.
Plus, no matter what, he was going to have to see Sasha again. It was better if it was at a big public event rather than alone in his office. Or alone in the rectory. Or alone at Dooley’s. Any of the places where he could forget that he wasn’t allowed to touch her or kiss her or even want her.
He’d attempted to mentally prepare for seeing her again, but it had been foolish to even try. She looked even more ethereal with short hair that showed off her long neck. The new style should remind him of what she’d been willing to sacrifice to get away from him, but it instead made him contemplate the curve of her neck.
During the cocktail hour, he greeted the newlyweds and grabbed a beer. When he found a dark corner, he leaned back against the wall, hoping to blend into the lushly appointed furniture at the private club that Matt’s parents had bought out for the night.
His eyes kept being drawn back to Sasha. He couldn’t help it. She looked at home in the room—one where politicians had probably made backroom deals for a hundred years. This was a room he wouldn’t ever be welcomed into, not unless he had the ambition to climb the Church’s hierarchy. Bishop Rafferty was probably a member. Even his brother—who was absent from this event for obvious reasons—would be more at home in a room like this than Patrick was.
But Sasha laughed and smiled and seemed to know everyone. It made him feel like a miserable prick for wanting her. He could never give her this. Even if he left the Church, he didn’t have a plan. Sasha was the kind of woman who wouldn’t choose a man without a plan. She contained more multitudes than she usually let out, but she was a pragmatist.
And she didn’t want him—not really and not for keeps.
Still, he kept willing her to look at him. She never did. And he decided to switch from beer to scotch.
* * *
—
SHE NOTICED HIM LOOKING at her, and it was very distracting. Trying to ignore him was the only thing keeping her sane right now, and he was making it impossible. An uncharitable part of her mind wished that