Page 23 of Property of The Grump

“It’s on the outskirts of town, between here and Rugged Mountain. I’d say twenty minutes. You have a sweater?”

I shake my head. “I have not come prepared.”

“That’s alright.” He grabs a hoodie out of his drawer and sets it on the bed next to me before ushering himself out of the room in a hurry. “Take your time. I’ll just be going over scriptures in my office.”

He leaves so fast I wonder if I’m annoying him. I bet I am. He’s got a routine. He showers, goes to the lake, reflects. I wonder when he eats breakfast. I’m starving.

I take a fast shower, making sure to include a littlestress relief,dress quickly, and push a brush through my hair as I stare at myself in the oval mirror above the bathroom sink. I’ve been looking at this girl for years. You’d think I’d know her better by now. What she likes, what she wants from life, what her favorite flavor of ice cream is. I’m not sure I know any of those things. I think I’ve always defaulted to what Zane thought.

When I’m satisfied with my hair, and angry with myself for staying with him so long, I tug Father Anderson’s State ofColorado hoodie down over my frame and open the bathroom door. It’s almost as big as the T-shirt last night, hanging well past my knees as the sleeves bury my hands.

My clit throbs and my thighs ache, though I attempt to push away the filthy thoughts surfacing. I’m in a holy place with a holy man who’s trying to help me. Having thoughts about him touching my body is beyond a sin.

When I step out of the bedroom and into the front office, Father Anderson is pacing back and forth, mumbling something melodic.

The second he sees me though, he stops and stares at me the same way he did last night. His eyes wide, his lids heavy. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he liked what he was seeing, but Idoknow better, and again, I’m steering clear of the dark places my mind keeps going to.

“How do you feel this morning?” he asks, interrupting my spiral.

“I feel good, ready for some fresh air. Are you sure you don’t mind me coming along? I feel like I’m really cramping your style here.”

He laughs. “There is no style here, and I’m happy to have some company. Aside from church events, I spend a lot of time alone.” He walks over to me as he speaks, his hand on my back again as he guides me out of the room and toward the gravel parking area where I saw his bike yesterday.

I don’t know a lot about motorcycles, but his is one of those low riding ones with the handlebars that sit high and the seat that kind of dips low, the shiny chrome reflecting in the early morning sun.

“I’ve got some breakfast already packed in the saddlebags. It’s not much, but I packed a few bear claws I bought at the bake sale yesterday. They’re from Rugged Mountain, actually. The Jacksons live out there. They drive out here every Sunday toattend our services. They’re friends with the owner of the bakery and got them to donate boxes of bear claws. Have you ever been there?”

“Josie’s?”I grin. “Yeah, her bear claws are the best! I think I started having them infused straight into my blood stream before I was born.”

He laughs under his breath and rummages through the tools, ladders, folding chairs, and boxes in the garage until he finds a black helmet with a visor on the front of it. “Up here they start infusing people with berry breakfast muffins at birth. The diner makes them fresh every morning and distributes them all over town. You’ll have to try one while you’re here.”

I nod and smile as he brushes my hair back carefully and slips the helmet over my head, his rough fingers brushing against my chin as he tightens the strap.

“That okay?”

“Perfect,” I say, our gaze holding a beat too long in the brightest ray of the early morning sun.

The rest of the ride is a blur. All I know is that I’m snuggled up to him on the back of his rumbling bike, the wind blowing toward us, the scent of pine and cedar in the air as I push filthy thought after filthy thought from my mind.

It doesn’t help that the engine of this bike vibrates straight between my legs. It doesn’t help that he grips my leg as he takes each turn. It doesn’t help that out here, in the middle of the woods, on the back of his bike, everything feels different. His T-shirt blowing in the wind, his hat turned back, all that dark ink showing… this man does not look like a priest. He looks very much like a man.

A man I’d be interested in, if he were a man Icouldbe interested in.

A man I’d like to do very filthy things with.

Dear God, I’ve lost control.

Thankfully, the lake comes into view before I come all over the back seat of his bike. Unfortunately, we’re pulled up in front of the lake and he’s kicking down the stand before I’m ready to let him go.

I see why he comes out here.How did I not know this spot existed?The turquoise lake is situated in front of white-capped peaks and a grove of towering pines. The shoreline is pebbled with colorful stones, and large glacial boulders sit dipped into the water like statues set in time. I climb off the bike and step forward to take in the view, the pine breeze blowing my hair back as I hang the helmet on the handlebar.

“How did you find out about this place?” I push my hair back and stare out at the view. “It’s perfect.”

“I was out for a drive one day and kind of stumbled onto it. I keep a few fishing poles hidden in the brush over there if I get an itch to fish. I think I’m the only one who comes out here. I’ve never seen another person. Bears, sure. People, never.” He climbs off the bike, his long leg swinging over as his boot hits the ground.

My heart squeezes and does the extra beat thing it shouldn’t be doing.

I push down the thought and suck in a deep, pine breath. I miss the fresh mountain air so much. “Did you know the water is turquoise up here because of the minerals in the glaciers? I think it’s called rock flour or something. My dad used to take me to the lake every Sunday to fish, and he loved telling me all about the science of everything.”