Page 28 of Property of The Grump

“It’s not an imposition, assuming you don’t mind baking some more of those cupcakes for me. I have a sweet tooth, and I’ve been kicking myself for not buying more before they sold out.”

“Oh,” Wren grins, “the cupcakes are nothing. What you want are my apple cinnamon scones. I use this glaze that leaves the whole house smelling like fall.”

“Yes!” my mother says. “You’re right, I do want some of those.”

“Well,” I clear my throat and insert myself into the conversation, “Wren and I will stop by tonight and you two can bake together, but for now, she’s staying with me. We have work to do.”

“He’s very protective of his flock. What did I tell you?” My mother leans into me for a hug. “Tough guy with a sweet, little, honeybun heart.”

The door opens and more volunteers flood inside.

Wren offers me half a smile then launches into action. “We’re going to have our meeting out on the back lawn if that’s okay. There’s so much sun today. We should enjoy it before the snow starts flying again.”

Everyone nods and follows that sweet lamb whose ass I’m not supposed to notice right out into the yard.

God, how am I going to take her to my mother’s house tonight to bake scones? How am I supposed to laugh with her, have dinner with her, and show her through my childhood home? How can I do those things and not want to keep her?

I kneel again at the altar and stare up at the cross. I pray for guidance, I pray for Wren, and I pray for control, but again, the only voice I hear is my own.

Chapter Ten

Seven Years Ago

Wren

“Girl, I’m so proud of you!” Tilly’s squeals on the other end of the phone. “So, now what? Can we move to Alaska together, find two big lumberjacks, build cabins side by side, and let them fill us up with babies?”

“Umm, yeah, actually. We can do that right after I figure out how to stop thinking about Father Anderson.”

“Oh no.” I hear her grin through the phone line. “He got to you. I told you he’s hot.”

“He is,” I finally admit, “and he’s super kind. We never stop talking. Did you know his dad was a logger too?”

“No, but I’ll have someone add it to the fanfiction that’s floating around on the internet.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope! Someone named ‘Lotus Flower’ is writing it. She doesn’t explicitly say it’s Father Anderson, but I’ve been told he has all the same tattoos, in all the same places. So… it’s a pretty safe bet to say he’s Father Anderson.”

I have no idea what to think about that. I mean, sure, we admitted to having an attraction to each other, but that doesn’t mean anything. It can’t mean anything, and truth be told, I’ve already crossed too many lines.

“Where’d you go?” Tilly laughs. “Do you want the link to the stories?”

“No,” I pause, “that would be weird. I don’t want to read some other woman’s fantasy about a priest. I was just wondering who it could be.”

“Sizing up the competition?”

“No. No. No. That’s not what I’m doing.”

“The fact that you said no three times in a row tells me that’sexactlywhat you’re doing.”

A breeze blows, knocking a few red leaves off the maple tree in the front yard of the church. “No, I’m not sizing up my competition. I’m thinking about what I’m going to do with Zane.”

“Because you have to clear the way for Father Anderson.”

“Will you stop!” I laugh and clear my throat. “I said he’s hot, that’s all. I’m not blind.”

“What’s left to think about with Zane? You broke up with him. Has he contacted you?”