Heavenly Father, please keep my mother’s soul in your sight. Please keep her safe and healthy. I will try to make right of what’s been wronged, I will serve you as long as you need me to, and I will help the kids at this parish to follow in your footsteps. I humbly ask that you keep those around me safe and that my mistakes are not felt by others. Thank you for all the opportunities you’ve given me and for all the ones that are yet to come. Amen.

I made the sign of cross, and bracing myself against my bed, I stood up from the floor. I pulled my fingers through my hair. A thicker clump reminded me that I’d run out of my hair conditioner, so I checked the time. Lola didn’t officially open for another hour, but she was an early bird, restocking, sweeping, cleaning, and organizing as if her shop were located at one of the busiest New York streets.

I hadn’t seen Lola since she’d left me at the bar with a priest. That was four days ago. And since she wasn’t one to attend Sunday mass regularly, I missed her two days ago as well. Mondays the salon was closed, as Lola believed that each weekend should be a long weekend. With twenty minutes to spare before my work day, I grabbed my purse and headed out. Two minutes later I was knocking at her door.

“Good morning. How are you and what are you doing here this hour? Coffee?”

A freshly brewed aroma wafted, awakening my salivary glands, and I couldn’t decline.

“Sure, thank you. And the early bird catches the worm, isn’t that what they say?”

“What worm are you planning to catch today?” She poured a cup of steaming black coffee, looking at me suspiciously.

“Don’t think that I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I wiggled my finger at her. “You knew he was a priest, didn’t you?”

She laughed. “I’m sorry. He came in for a cut that morning. I wanted to warn you, but it was much more fun watching you hit on a priest.”

“I hate you.”

“Why? It was fun.”

“Until I embarrassed myself and threw up while he held my hair.”

“Then the wise thing to have done would have been to thank him.”

“I did. But…”

“You still think he’s hot.”

“Is that bad? He’s a priest, but when I see him, I see this hot guy – who, by the way, I’m working with.”

“Are you going to confess your impure thoughts to him or to Father John?” Lola asked, completely ignoring my predicament.

“Oh, my God! I haven’t even thought about that. He’ll totally know.”

Add to that the fact that I’d forgotten to confess how, for the past three nights, I’d dreamt about Father Cameron in his naked glory, the severity of my penance was increasing with every moment. I wasn’t afraid to pay for my sins, but I didn’t want to pay for them all at once when the Grim Reaper came to collect all the lost souls.

“You don’t have to mention any names, Kate. It could be a thousand different men.”

“In a town of one hundred and seven?” I sat down in one of the hairdresser chairs and sipped on my coffee. Well, it was one hundred and eight now, because Mrs. Windsor had gone into labor early this past weekend.

“They don’t ask for names. Believe me. I know.”

“Argh! I wish you’d told me who he was before I made a fool of myself.”

“So what? You think Father Cameron is hot. So does half of the parish.”

Which obviously equaled all the women in town. “Yeah, but I have to work with him.”

“Congratulations to you, then.”

“Argh, Lola! This isn’t funny.”

“Then get rid of those hormones you’re stashing. Have a fling or a one-night stand with someone else and you’ll feel much better. Daryl seemed available.”

Daryl had a beard, and I wasn’t interested. I slouched in my seat and shook my head. This was my fault. I shouldn’t have let my guard down at the bar. I shouldn’t have been drinking and lusting over a man, period. And Father Cameron wasn’t just any man. He was a priest.

I finished my coffee and walked back to the church office. Thankfully, Father Cameron was nowhere to be seen. I picked up a packet of mail that had come in yesterday and went back to my office where boxes full of papers were waiting to be organized. I startled at the knock on my door.

“Do you have a minute, Kate?” Father Cameron asked, peeking through the glass panes in my door.

Sweat dripped between my boobs and down my back.

“Yes, of course. Come in. I apologize for the heat. The air conditioner broke down this morning.”

Because what else could break during one of the biggest heat waves? Definitely not the furnace.

“Did you call a repair man?” he asked.

“There isn’t really anyone in town that’s knowledgeable. Father John is pretty handy, but I doubt he knows anything about air conditioning and he’s sick. Anything I can help you with?”

The longer I looked at him, the hotter I felt, and the more I wished for that damn air conditioner to work.

If my mother knew the thoughts I was having about a priest, she would have hit me over the head, and that would have been an easy out. But what was I supposed to do? Turn off the hormones? How was I supposed to think of this deliciously handsome man I’d met at a bar as nothing more than a friend?

He’s a priest, I repeated in my mind. It didn’t help.

“Father John mentioned some old paperwork he wants me to go through. Do you know what he was thinking of?”

“You mean these boxes?” I pointed to the stacks of cardboard containers where papers were spilling out from underneath the lids.

“Yeah, I guess.” His shoulders slouched as he realized what I’d known since the day I started working here: the task of sorting the papers was impossible. Father John had started organizing them, slowly moving old ones into the attic, but the job was too great for one person.

“Pull up a chair. Coffee?” I asked.

“Yes, please. It looks like this will take a while.”

“More like a year,” I laughed. “I’d help you, but—”

“It’s all right. I don’t want to use you.”

Use me? Why did that sound like a promise? Stop it. “I’ll get the coffee.”

I pulled my chair away and went to the kitchen. On my way back, I bumped into Mrs. Duarte, who of course needed to chat about her cat’s latest illness. She was a nice lady, a little nutty perhaps, but it suited her cat lady demeanor.

“I promise to stop by to see Snowflake, but you should take her to the vet next time someone goes into town.”

The closest town was two hours away. I doubted that cat would ever get help, but offering no help at all would have been rude.

“I will, darling. You make sure you drink plenty of water because it’s easy to dehydrate in this heat.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Duarte.”

Feeling the thick air collect into another drop on my skin I made a mental note to ask Father John about the air conditioning. An unexpected cool breeze swept past my office door. I pushed it open and stopped. By the window, Father Cameron appeared to be trying to fix the cooling unit — shirtless.

I leaned against the doorframe and took a moment to enjoy the view of a strong man’s back, muscles flexing and twisting, sweat dripping in provocative patterns, forking when it reached a larger muscle. There were two scars on his lower back, as well as a fresh round wound I recognized as a bullet hole.

What happened?

It wasn’t until Father Cameron cleared his throat that I remembered I wasn’t having a dream and was now admiring his beautiful chest, lightly sprinkled with dark hair, as well as the tattoo over his ribcage. The black waves of font spelled out the word hope and I couldn’t stop staring.

If he only knew…

“Are you feeling okay, Kate?” he asked.

“Ahm, yes. Sorry. Just a little lightheaded. The heat…” I fanned myself.

I was sure it was wrong to lie to a priest, something I’d need to confess later on, but what was I supposed to do? Tell him that I’d been ogling his perfect pecs, biceps, and abs? Not to mention that carved v-line above his pants? But technically, I didn’t lie. I was hot. Very hot.

Priests should not be allowed to work out.

“I think the AC is fixed.” He grabbed his white t-shirt and pulled it over his head, dressing himself in slow motion.

Damn! That move alone was worth the sweat. His arms stretched above his head, which made his entire muscular torso lift, exposing a little more of that beautiful V-shape, with even more dark hair.

Did he trim?

“Kate?”

“Ahm, what?” Crap!

“The air conditioning. It’s working now.”

“Oh, thank you.”

It would probably be the first operational unit in town. My gaze skidded to the safety of my desk, away from the hot, half-naked priest. I was so going to burn in hell for this.

“I was going to start on the papers, but the heat in this room was unbelievable,” he explained.

“Yeah, tell me about it. I sweat like a pig.”

He raised his eyebrows.

Shoot me now! “Sorry, that was inappropriate. But don’t worry, I use a lot of deodorant.”

Father Cameron kept still, listening to me like the attentive priest that he was, while I just kept digging my own grave.

“I don’t smell. Really.” I lifted my arm and took a whiff, realizing too late what I’d done. Hey, at least I hadn’t asked him to smell it.

The overpowering heat I’d felt earlier in my crotch had transferred to my face. I must have turned beet-red.

“Kate, it’s okay. You’re nervous, and I get that. A lot of people get nervous around priests. Some even think we can see their sins written on their faces.”

Could he?

“No, that’s not true,” he added with a chuckle.

Why was he making it so difficult to concentrate? I felt my brows narrow, then pointed right at him. “You shouldn’t be walking around like that.”

“Like what?”

“All naked.”

“I’m hardly naked.”

“Well, without a shirt. People may get the wrong idea.”

“There are no other people here, Kate. And I’m wearing a shirt.”

Was he toying with me? Wasn’t he aware of how good he looked in a clingy white undershirt that outlined every cut of his muscle? He was sinning and he didn’t even know it.

“You know what I mean. A man like you should be covered.” I reached for his black shirt and threw it at him. He looked at me amusingly.

“A man like me?”

“Yes. A holy man. A priest.”

Was he teasing me, or was he really that naive about the trouble his handsome looks could actually cause?

“But I’m already covered.”

“You need to cover up more,” I said, and then passed him the clerical collar as well. “You shouldn’t forget to wear this, either.”

Why was he looking at me with so much curiosity?

“How did you manage to get any work done in this heat?” he asked, and I relaxed as the topic shifted away from my sweaty armpits and his hot body.

“Ice cream. Lots of ice cream. Where did you learn about air-conditioning?” I set his cup of coffee in front of him at the corner of my desk.

“Thank you. It was one of the few jobs I did when I was a teenager.”

“Hard-working since the young years?” I hoped he’d share a little bit more about himself. He didn’t seem to talk about his childhood a lot. In fact, he’d barely talked about himself when we were at the Bistro.

“It kept me out of trouble. My father…” he paused, a little saddened. “He’s a great man. He taught us well.”

A soft smile caught the corner of his mouth, and I wondered what memory had brought it on. When Father Cameron mentioned his father, I felt a sense of painful loss.

“Us?” I asked.

“Yes, I have three younger brothers. Brook could be my twin. There are only eleven months between us.”

Another hot-looking priest?

“We’re all close, though. My youngest brother, Dean, is only four years my junior. He and Jax are as close as me and Brook. We’re sort of like two sets of twins.”

Father Cameron glowed when talking about his brothers. It was special, and I had a feeling that I was seeing a rare moment of his vulnerability. I wondered what had brought on the sudden nostalgia. Seeing him as a commoner, a normal person, gave me a new perspective. Father Cameron took another sip of his coffee and closed his eyes. For a moment, I thought he was lost in prayer, and I didn’t want to interrupt until he opened them again, as if a revelation had come through.

“Your mother must be a strong and very patient woman. Four kids in four years, that’s pretty impressive.”

He smiled with pride. “She’s one of the strongest and most resilient women I know.”

I pictured her pushing a stroller every Sunday morning when the family went to church. Brook and the second youngest brother would still be sleeping in their seats while little Cameron walked beside his mother, holding onto the stroller’s handle. He would continuously peek past his mother at the highest point in town, the church cross. Dean would be riding on the rear supporting step, trying to see over the stroller’s hood. It was a nice picture that I’d painted in my mind. I’d never had any siblings. At least, none that I’d met. My baby brother had died before I was even born.

“My parents live separately now. Even though they had a complicated relationship, they also made sure that we never felt their problems.”

“Oh, they’re divorced?” That part wasn’t in my picture. It’d never even crossed my mind that a priests’ parents were divorced.

“Yes.”

“Your faith, where did that come from, then? How does that work?”

He lifted his chin and our gazes connected. I saw a gazillion questions written on his face and gasped. Would he ask me about my past? Could I tell him the truth? And if not, how could I keep my secrets hidden from a priest?

“My father,” he simply replied, “What about your family? I noticed you don’t have any in town.”

There it was. I took a deep breath and meticulously went over the words I chose next. Telling him too much would be disastrous not only for me but also for him. Being on a crime family’s most wanted list didn’t exactly scream safe.

“I was a single child,” I said.

Father Cameron looked at me inquisitively, like the caring priest that he was. He could probably tell that I wasn’t telling him everything, which I wasn’t. That’s how I knew that in order to keep him off my back, I needed to tell him some more. “My mother is recovering from heart surgery.”

“Oh, that’s serious. Is she all right?”

“Yes, thank you. She’s under good care. I think she might have died of a broken heart if the surgery hadn’t been successful.”

“Died of a broken heart?”

“She misses my father. He died out in the field while serving the country.” That was partially true, and it would have to be enough for now. I wasn’t ready to talk about how my dad had just disappeared from our lives and left us with so many unanswered questions.

“And how did you end up in Pace?” he asked.

“I needed a change,” I shrugged. “I needed to find myself.” Somehow telling Father Cameron that my mother kept repeating the words “Jack Pace” sounded crazy. Yet something about living here felt right. It was funny how this same little town I hadn’t wanted to come to was quickly beginning to feel like home.

“Well, you’re in the perfect place to do so.” His genuine smile warmed me, and for the first time since meeting Father Cameron and lusting after him, I felt like he could be an actual friend. If he kept his shirt on, that is.

“Thank you. I think so too. Father Cameron?”

He cocked his head to the side, waiting for me to continue.

“You have scars on your back. Can I ask what happened?”

“Kidney surgery when I was young.”

What about the round red mark? Where did that come from? Though I wanted to ask him, I was afraid that further questions about any parts of his body would heat my cheeks even more.

“Thank you for talking to me about your family. It was… nice.”

“It was my pleasure, Kate. And thank you for listening. Usually I’m the one on the receiving end of a conversation.”

“Well, if you ever want to talk, I’m here. I’m pretty good at keeping secrets.”

He leaned in closer and I felt his breath on my face.

“Not as good as I am.” He winked, then grinned, and I laughed at his witticism. “If you excuse me, I must go take a shower, otherwise in a few minutes I won’t be as pleasant to sit next to.”

I doubted that, and wanted to take a whiff to test it out. Instead, I smiled as he tucked the black shirt and clerical collar under his arm and left. I wish I could say that lack of his presence removed at least a portion of the heat I felt when I thought about him, but that would be a lie.