“Are you sure about this?” Lola asked, as she combed through Mrs. Duarte’s hair, separating it into parts.

“Yeah, I need to clear my mind.” I raised my brows so that she could see my reflection in the mirror. I wasn’t about to come out in front of a seventy-year-old saying that I needed to get drunk.

“All right, all right. I’ll be there.”

“Why are you so grumpy? It’s not like you have to hike through the woods to get there.”

Yes, tonight, I would make another attempt at the Bistro. After all, it couldn’t get any worse than having a priest hold your hair while you puked your guts out, could it?

“And you do?”

Though he’d said that he was trying to help a friend who doesn’t know how seductive she is, everything in my body told me that he was referring to me. I knew it was me, and that confused me even more.

“You know what I mean, Lola. I really need to talk to you.”

“Okay, okay. Why don’t you go, grab a drink… or two or three. Judging from that stress on your face, I personally vote for four, and I’ll be there in under an hour.”

“Promise?”

“Hey, this girl doesn’t go back on an offer to drink.”

I rested my hands on my hips, waiting.

“All right. If you must hear it, then I promise.” She popped her pink bubble gum.

“See you soon!”

A moment later, I stepped into the bar. It felt like only yesterday that I swore I would never set foot in here again. I didn’t know why, but that bar was calling out to me — either that or it was the fantasy of thinking back to the time when I thought Father Cameron was an available man. Truthfully, tonight I hoped to burn all my hormones and completely forget about him. I wanted to stop the emotional imbalance from doing whatever dance that was in my stomach, and the only way I knew how was with a drink. Today was one of the more difficult days. When Father Cameron stepped into my back yard, I swore I could feel a connection of more than friendship. It confused me. It made me lose my focus of why I was here: looking for a man named Jack and staying hidden while the shit back home cooled down. Out of all the churches Father Cameron could have been sent to in this world, why this one?

It was bad enough that the past week I woke up soaked in my sweat, fingers aching from the onslaught I brought on myself. He wouldn’t leave my mind. My fantasies of him being a man, one who wasn’t committed to the church, grew wilder every night. The guilt and embarrassment began to hover over me like a stressed bee trying to collect nectar from a woman’s artificial flower hat.

I sat down by the bar, adjusted my tube top dress, and smiled at Bert. “They say you can correct your mistakes if you’re careful the second time around,” I explained.

“Looks like you got some sun today,” he noted.

“I fell asleep in the back yard. Hence the bare shoulders. They hurt like hell, but I’m hoping the pain will ease after a few.”

He passed me my shot of tequila, because honestly, if I was going to drink, I wouldn’t mix, and so I downed the first one before he had a chance to set the sliver of lemon on my shot glass.

“I’ll have another one.”

“Take it easy there, Kate. The night is young. Need I remind you what happened last time?”

“Nope, but I do need to be in bed early. We have a parent retreat meeting in the morning.”

“You want me to cut you off at half a dozen then?”

“No cutting off.” I glanced at my watch. “But whatever I can get down in the next two hours, I will.”

I wanted to forget him. For one single minute, I wanted Father Cameron out of my mind. Except the more I thought about him, the more obsessed I felt. My body ached for a release. My first few attempts to find that high were short lived. The orgasm I’d had after Father Cameron left the day he had fixed my air conditioning unit came on too quickly and left me wanting more, to the point where frustration set in and I could no longer reach that moment of pure joy; not unless it was while sleeping. So, what was a woman who could possibly carry blue balls for the rest of her life supposed to do?

I had just downed my third shot when a familiar voice sounded from beside me, and I stilled.

“You better slow down or I’ll have to hold your hair while you throw up later.”

Goosebumps covered my arms and fear completely obliterated my vocal chords.

Oh no! Not again!

With my eyes partially shut, I turned slowly in my seat, praying that it wouldn’t be him. And that somehow, somewhere up there in the heavens, someone was listening. When I turned around and saw the stranger, I looked up and mouthed thank you. He, of course, took it the wrong way.

“Well, it looks like tonight will be very interesting.”

“I meant something else.” I waved my hand. “And I’m not making the mistake of throwing up in those bathrooms again,” I said.

He laughed. The dimple in his left cheek made me pause again as I wondered whether I’d seen him in town before.

“I’m Brrr…ady.”

That voice, so soothing and familiar, sent delectable shivers down my spine. If there was anyone I could have ever pictured Father Cameron to be like if he weren’t a priest, it was this man sitting at my side.

“It’s nice to meet you, Brady. I’m Kate. You must be new in town.”

“Just passing through.”

“Many do. Welcome.”

“Thanks. Definitely feeling it today.” He winked. His dark skin glowed in the light from the candle-lit chandelier above. That chiseled face was so easy to look at. I just met Brady and felt like I could bare my soul to this man. Yeah, the hormones were definitely out of whack. He then leaned forward and smirked to the side, saying, “But I could definitely go for round number two.”

And the façade of this perfect man I’d imagined Father Cameron to be, vanished.

“That’s rude.”

“Okay, Michelle Tanner.”

“And that’s even ruder.”

“Ruder is not a word.”

“It is so.”

“Why don’t you have another shot? Maybe you’ll be able to spell it out.”

Was that sarcasm?

“I can spell very well, thank you very much. But I will have another shot because I’m so disgusted with the way you talk.”

Yet something drew me to him. Was it the danger? Was it the force with which he sat at the bar, so pure and manly? He could have been a caveman dragging me home by my hair, and I would have let him. As my imagination sailed on the first tequila wave, Brady leaned forward, and that smirk was back again. “The woman I fucked about an hour ago said the same thing before coming all over my dick.”

What the hell?

I swung my hand, ready to leave a mark on his cheek but he grabbed my sluggish wrist before I made contact.

“Take it easy, sweets. I’m just kidding.”

Somehow I doubted that. I yanked my hand out of his grip. I felt him devour me with his gaze, and while a moment ago that would have been totally hot, right now it felt creepy.

“Have we met before?” I asked.

“Why?”

“The way you’re looking at me. It’s weird.”

“Don’t take it the wrong way, but I’m actually wondering how much those hurt.” He pointed to my swollen red shoulders. “Besides, I would have remembered a beautiful woman.”

Well, he definitely was good at smoothing things over.

“I’m sorry if I offended you,” he added. “It’s been a rough few days. Actually, make that months. Today was the first one that promised something special, but I got disappointed.”

“Yikes. Lady troubles?”

“I wish it were that simple.”

He picked up one of the two tequilas from the set beside us and raised the glass. I grasped the second one with my fingers, and tapped my shot against his before throwing it back. The alcohol slid down my throat like water.

I dabbed the tissue I was holding over my mouth and took a sip of my water.

“Wanna talk about it? Just don’t cry on my shoulders, they hurt.”

He chuckled. “I’ll talk about it, but only if you drink.”

“That’s definitely not a problem tonight.” Tonight, I wanted to forget a handsome priest who had my mind spinning all day and all night, and Brady here looked like a good person to forget with. Would he be staying long in town? I looked around the room to see whether Lola had come. She was much better at this conversation-while-drunk thing than I was. “It looks like my friend bailed on me which makes you, Mr. Brady, my drinking partner tonight. I’m warning you, though, the last man I drank with did hold my hair while I puked in the bathroom.”

“You? But you look like such a good girl to me.”

“Perception is a two-way mirror.” I raised my glass, but he waited, a little more interested now.

“Bad girl?”

“Nah, I guess I’m somewhere in between.”

Brady finally raised his glass, and we tapped them together. “To middle ground,” he said.

“To middle ground,” I cheered.

After that one was down, for the first time that evening, I felt the room spin and decided to slow down with the shots. When I checked my phone, Lola had texted that she was sorry she couldn’t make it. On a normal evening, I would have walked out the door, gone to her salon and upstairs apartment, and dragged her ass back to the bar; but today, in Brady’s company, it didn’t seem urgent. Besides, he was helping me forget about Father Cameron, which was the whole point of the evening.

“So, tell me what happened to put you in such a sour mood. Where are you coming from?” I asked.

“New York. Long Island, to be exact.”

Thank goodness I had tequila. I hoped that it somewhat helped camouflage my surprise.

“And where are you headed?”

“Jesus, you sound like an investigator.” He leaned back, smirking.

Seriously? He got me after only two questions?

“My turn to question you. What’s a beautiful woman like you doing in a dump like this?”

“Well, tonight, she’s drinking.”

“And evading questions.”

Yeah, I’d gotten pretty good at that. “And now she needs to use the ladies’ room because apparently not all the tequila gets absorbed in your veins.”

“Then one more before you leave.” He passed me another shot glass. At this rate, I’d need to call Lola because I wouldn’t know how to make it back to my house, which was diagonally across the street, right beside the church. All I had to do was turn the right way.

“You’re worried that you won’t be able to get home, right?”

I nodded.

“Well, I’m a pretty good guy, despite the asshole you probably assumed that I was, so I can walk you.”

“Going home with a stranger?”

“We’re not strangers, Kate. We already know each other.”

“Hold that thought, or I’ll pee in my panties.”

He smirked to the side and winked. “We can always get rid of those.”

I was already a few steps away from him, but couldn’t quite leave. This man was almost as intriguing as Father Cameron. Perhaps tonight would work out for the best after all. This was exactly who I needed. I needed a tall, dark, handsome man, preferably with blue eyes, to hold my attention. Mysterious and intriguing, just like Father Cameron.

“You’re really something else.” I shook my head.

“I get that a lot,” he called out as I walked away.

I quickly did my business and washed my hands. Brady was very easy to talk to, and I was beginning to like him more and more. Too bad he was only passing through, but maybe I could get his number? Perhaps after my ordeal was over and I went back home, I could call him up.

Maybe I should ask him to drop by again?

It must have been the alcohol talking in my head because I knew very well that I couldn’t afford to be in any kind of relationship.

So it’s a definite no to seeing him again.

Maybe a one-night stand? Perhaps a good dose of pounding would get rid of that never-ending throb between my legs? I combed my fingers through my shorter curls, double checked my tube top dress, and went back to the bar. Brady had already two fresh shot glasses waiting for us and passed me one before I even sat down.

“Wanna dance?” he asked.

“I’d love to. Cheers! To new friendships.”

“To new friendships,” he repeated, then threw back the shot at the same time that I did, and took my hand. He pulled me out onto the dance floor and headed straight for the jukebox.

“This is one of my favorites. I’m surprised they have the song.”

I didn’t get a chance to see which one he chose, but when the Daft Punk beat sounded, I was glad he knew something about music. “Instant Crush" was one of my favorite songs.

He held me by my hips, his body grinding against mine as the music swayed us back and forth. The comfort of his arms and hold was undeniable and welcome. When his mouth lowered to my burning shoulder and he kissed it gently, a trickle of excitement stirred inside of me. That, along with a strange feeling that I shouldn’t have been doing this.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m making you uncomfortable.”

“No, it’s not you.”

“Sure it is. You’re dancing with me and thinking about someone else.”

“I can’t help it. It’s a complicated and an impossible situation, that’s all.”

He leaned back a fraction and looked into my eyes. Their captivating gaze was so familiar that I felt my mouth open, though he becoming more out of focus with each beat of the song.

“For what it’s worth, he’s one lucky guy.”

I wished Brady’s words were true. Unfortunately, the man who made my heart go pitter-patter loved someone else: God. I mean, he probably loved me too, in a way, because a priest like Father Cameron simply loved everyone; but what if I wanted to be the only one?

I gasped as the thought I usually reserved for night time, one of Father Cameron making himself comfortable between my legs, flashed through my mind. A sudden swell in my chest forced my gaze to Brady’s. “What do you do when someone you’re into isn’t attainable?” I asked, my head feeling a little wobbly.

“You mean, dead?”

“No, silly.” I gently tapped him on his chest. It was hard and warm, and so I left my hand there. “For example, let’s say the guy’s married.”

“Whoa, Kate, you definitely don’t want to go there.”

He turned me around in a circle in one swift move and brought me back to his body, catching me before I lost my balance.

“Yeah, you’re right,” I said. That was a bad example, and my head spun.

“You know, I could help you forget him. I have a room upstairs.”

Despite Brady’s handsome looks and irresistible charm, I wasn’t keen on sleeping where a million other people had been. And I wasn’t that easy.

“You’re such a douche, you know.” I tapped his chest again, this time to regain stability because my legs were beginning to feel like swimming pool noodles.

“I like you. You’re cool.”

“Brady? I’m not feeling very well.”

“I didn’t mean cool like cold, I meant like awesome.”

Was it just me, or was he sounding more drunk as well? Because he wasn’t making any sense.

Feeling my stomach swirl, I froze. “I’m gonna throw up.” I covered my mouth with my hand and rushed to the bathrooms at the back. It was like a déjà vu moment, except it wasn’t. I pushed the stall door open and bent in half. The tequila drained out of me for forever. And just when I thought I was done, there was some more — way more than the last time. Fortunately, Brady did come inside and held my hair as I embarrassed myself in front of another handsome man.

I would so not drink tequila ever again. This time, for sure.

I lifted my head slowly and immediately regretted bracing my burnt shoulder against the side of the stall.

“You make it a habit of throwing up and having men hold your hair for you?”

That voice! Oh, no! It wasn’t Brady’s. He couldn’t impersonate Father Cameron that well.

I backed out of the stall. Brady stood beside Father Cameron. Both men were looking at me with what seemed like thousands of questions at the same time. I recalled thinking earlier that an evening couldn’t get any worse than having a priest hold your hair while you puked. Well, it could, because it could happen twice. That image of Father Cameron and Brady staring at me was the last one I remembered because my knees buckled underneath me.