Page 29 of Holly Jolly Heresy
She suppressed a smile and tilted her head towards the pile of X-rated gingerbread men cookie cutters they’d collected from the upstairs hall nativity scene and relocated to the kitchen counter. “I could hardly have these cookie cutters staring us in the face and not use them.”
He pulled the oversized red Fiestaware mixing bowl down from its perch on top of the refrigerator, far out of Molly’s reach. Their hands brushed as she took the bowl from him, sending awareness skittering across his skin.
Ridiculous. You spent the better part of an hour with your tongue between her legs and you’re getting worked up over touching her hand.
Her eyes slid over him, across his shoulders and down his biceps to where he’d rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, as though she could hear his dirty thoughts. Or maybe she was just having dirty thoughts of her own. As her gaze hit the bare skin of his forearms, need pulsed through her blood and pulled the bowl towards herself, positioning it like a barrier between them. “Ofcourse, Tessa did try to convince me to make snickerdoodles instead.”
He watched as she carefully measured the fragrant spices out into the mixing bowl. “I was never a big snickerdoodle fan. The name always makes me think of dogs. Poodles. Labradoodles. Snickerdoodles. They sound too much alike.”
She laughed and pointed to the stand mixer on the counter. “Make yourself useful and start beating the butter.”
He waggled his eyebrows at her. “I feel like there’s an innuendo there I can’t quite put my finger on.”
“You put your finger on plenty already.”
“And here I thought we were just getting started.”
He captured her around the waist, tugging her against him and dropping a kiss on her lips. How was he supposed to stop touching her? For the first time, he understood why his brother and their friends were so obnoxious about being publicly affectionate with their wives and girlfriends.
She stepped out of the circle of his arms, her smile infectious as she straightened his glasses. “Pace yourself, Father.”
He sighed dramatically but released her all the same. Molly moved about the kitchen with ease, measuring flour and cracking eggs into her assembled bowls. He was so busy watching her, he almost forgot to turn on the stand mixer.
This is what it would be like.The idea rushed through him like the wind, kicking up all the long-discarded thoughts he’d tried to ignore. Thoughts that had coalesced into the shape of a curvy English teacher. Thoughts he knew would not be so easily discarded a second time around.
You could be laicized. You could walk away.
The first time he’d considered leaving the priesthood was shortly after his ordination. He’d woken one night in a cold sweat, panic gripping his throat at the idea of a life alone with this taciturn God who so often withheld his voice. But FatherRaymond had convinced him to see it through, to trust the Church to guide him. To trust God. Twenty-five years on, his trust in God hadn’t wavered. He couldn’t say the same for his faith in the Church.
He thought of the laicization paperwork sitting in his email, of the Bishop’s offer to reassign him instead.
Maybe God put you here to show you a new path.
“If you were in Aster Bay today, what would you be doing?”
The question pulled his focus back to the task at hand. The butter was well and truly beaten, and he shut off the stand mixer, leaning against the counter as he watched her work. “I was supposed to be helping Ethan and the guys get ready for the toy drive. The parents pick up this afternoon. What about you?”
She hummed as she thought, her hips swaying to a tune only she could hear as she stirred the sweet concoction in her bowl. “Jo would probably rope me into going Christmas shopping with her. She always saves it until the last minute.”
“Unlike you.”
She glanced up at him, her lips tipped up in a soft smile. He wanted to press his tongue into the dimple that appeared in her cheek. “I was done with my shopping before Thanksgiving,” she confirmed.
“I knew it.”
“And then I would probably spend the evening reading the draft of Alex Lambert’s college scholarship essay.” She paused for a moment, twisting her lips up to the side and glancing around for her phone. “I need to let him know I won’t get to it until after Christmas.”
“Will that be okay? He won’t miss his deadline, will he?”
She scoffed. “No. Even if I didn’t finish reading his essay until after New Year’s, he’d still be more than a month ahead of the deadline. That boy doesn’t miss deadlines.”
“He’s a good kid.” A bolt of pain gathered behind Caleb’s eyes as their earlier conversation about the St. Anthony’s High senior came back to him. He scraped his hand over his jaw. “Will it affect his chances if he doesn’t make valedictorian?”
Molly’s shoulders stiffened, but she shrugged, avoiding his eyes as she combined the wet and dry ingredients. “It might.”
“I’ll talk to Bruce when we get back.” Her brow furrowed as though she wasn’t quite sure if she believed him. “He can’t mess up a kid’s future over a uniform violation.”
She rolled her bottom lip through her teeth and nodded slowly, turning her attention back to her baking, but the air between them soured, as though they were vibrating at different frequencies.
