I hummed to myself as I kneaded the dough for a French loaf. I always did that. Today it was my pitiful version of Chris Daughtry’s song “Home.” A pinch in my lower back caused me to stop what I was doing and rock back on my heels. It was Thursday, which for me was the way Monday was for most people: the beginning of my work week. As tired as I was, I was not looking forward to the raucous Mardi Gras crowd at Lulu’s over the next five days.

Wiping my brow with the back of my hand, I was about to start rolling out the dough when I heard a familiar voice in the front of the bakery.

“I’m so glad you could make it by.” I heard Mrs. Bain schmooze.

The voice was male, and I couldn’t quite place who it was, but it had me curious. Wiping my hands across the front of my apron, I casually moved towards the door separating the kitchen from the storefront. As I passed by I peeked through a round window at the top.

It was Eduardo.

Good God, was the man stalking me?

His appearance rattled me enough that I stopped in front of the window longer than I’d intended. Long enough for him to glance up, see me, and say to Mrs. Bain, “There she is. Do you mind if I have a word with Chloe?”

“Certainly,” Mrs. Bain said brightly before turning to open the door and fetch me. She swung the door back so that it barely missed me, and hissed, “Make it quick. You’ve got a dozen loaves to get in the oven in the next ten minutes.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I answered, trying to remain polite when what I really wanted was to slam the door back in her face.

Passing into the customer side of the shop, I realized how disheveled I probably was. There was likely flour in my hair and on my face, and my apron was always a mess. Untying the back and setting it aside, I stared at my unexpected visitor.

“Hello. How may I help you this morning?” I spoke to him as if he were a stranger. Keeping a comfortable distance from customers was my specialty.”

“I wanted to talk to you and you haven’t been answering my texts.”

“Sorry. Dropped my phone in the toilet, and I can’t afford to get a new one right now.”

“That sucks.”

I didn’t expect language like that to come out of a priest’s mouth. But then, nothing about this man was what I expected.

His intense dark eyes raked over me with a longing and desire that was familiar, yet different from the looks I usually got from men.

He had a magnetism that threatened to draw me in, but I couldn’t find the time for dating right now. Not to mention the complications that would assuredly come from going out with a man whose first obligation was to a God I wasn’t sure I even believed in and a congregation that most certainly would not approve of me.

“What can I do for you?” I repeated.

He shifted from one foot to the other with more grace than was fair for a man to have. Come to think of it, his eyelashes were impossibly long too. Life wasn’t fair.

“I wanted to ask you, if you have any time off, this weekend, if you’d like to go to a parade with me.”

There was something so sweet in the old-fashioned way he was pursuing me that it stirred something inside me.

He was like a little puppy standing there with his tongue hanging out of his mouth panting for my affection and I felt like a cold-hearted bitch to say no.

These days most guys didn’t even take the time to court a girl. It was all about sex in the bathroom and hooking up and hell, they barely even could be bothered to give you an “I’ll call you later” before bolting never to be heard from again.

“Sorry. I can’t.”

“That’s okay,” he said, and if he was disappointed he did a good job hiding it. “I understand.”

Maybe at a different point in my life, I wouldn’t have declined his invitation. He seemed like a good guy, and he would make someone a wonderful husband. But that someone was not me.

The family, children, husband—that was not my dream. I know most girls my age would’ve killed for that, but I had different dreams and I was so close to making them a reality that I couldn’t afford to get distracted now.

Mrs. Bain returned from the back. “What can we get for you today, Father?”

I wanted to say something, but I was afraid we would both be in trouble if Mrs. Bain knew he came here only to ask me out, and I couldn’t think of anything on the spot.

“I’d like to order a pastry tray for Ash Wednesday if that would be possible,” Eduardo said to Mrs. Bain who lit up at the word “tray.” More pastries meant more money, and it was obvious she was pleased he wasn’t just stopping in for a loaf of bread.

“Let me just get an order pad and I will take care of it,” Mrs. Bain said fishing under counter.

With a smile that would have charmed the devil himself, Eduardo asked, “Could Chloe possibly take my order? I’m a big fan of hers.”

Mrs. Bain stood there with her mouth open for a minute before she swallowed hard and handed me the order pad and a pen. “Of course,” she said and disappeared into the back.

I giggled. “I don’t think she liked that very much.”

He shrugged. “That’s okay. What pastries do you recommend?”

“Muffins and croissants are always good. Maybe some Danish. When will you be serving them again? And for how many people?”

“It’s for a special coffee service after the Ash Wednesday morning service. I’m not sure how many people, but I guess we should plan for fifty?”

I nodded. “You’d rather have more than run out so estimate on the higher side and you can always have leftovers.”

He patted his stomach “That’s the last thing I need. You’ll be adding some extra miles to my run.”

I smiled imagining him running, and I couldn’t help myself but wonder what his body was like underneath his conservative clothing. I mean, he’d seen mine . . .

“Do you ever go to church?”

What a buzzkill. Instantly my thoughts about his naked body vanished. “Not really.”

“Well, if you ever feel like going we’d love to have you at St. John’s.”

“Thanks.”

I finished up the order form and let him know he could pick it up on Wednesday morning or Tuesday afternoon if he preferred. He chose Wednesday, and I wondered whether he would pay for it himself or if he had a business account from the church that he used.

These days I was constantly thinking about business matters since I was planning on starting a business of my own soon. After the order was completed he seemed hesitant to go, but he thanked me and on his way out the door he gave me what had to be the sexiest wink I’d ever seen. The man’s charms rivaled Clark Gable when he played Rhett Butler in Gone with the Wind, and I felt a little zip of excitement despite myself.

But I didn’t have long to think about it before Mrs. Bain burst through the back door. “Come on, get back to work.”

Without saying a word I picked up my apron, put it back on and made my way back to the dough that was waiting for me.

Mrs. Bain followed me, squawking all the way. “I’m not sure what you have going on that a priest is coming here showing interest in you. But I don’t like it.”

I wanted to tell her it was none of her business, to leave me the hell alone, but I also wanted to keep my job and that was more important than defending myself to her.

“Are you dating that priest?” she asked incredulously.

I shook my head. “I had coffee with him once, that’s all.”

Mrs. Bain looked dismayed. “Chloe, you cannot encourage that man.”

“I’m not,” I said, rolling out the dough in front of me lengthwise.

“Honestly, he must have gone down a wrong path. He must not know you are a stripper.”

My face burned. I was more than just a stripper. Why didn’t she ever see that?

“He knows I’m a stripper!”

Mrs. Bain’s face was aghast. “All the more reason why you should not encourage him. You do not want it on your conscience, corrupting a man of God.”

“I’m not.” After that I buried my head and focused on my work.

I was done humming for the day.