Priest (A Standalone Bad Boy Romance Love Story) (48 page)

I could hear the soft sounds of a
television down the hall. I had to get this over with, so I followed it. When I
got to the living room I was surprised to see a kid sitting on the blue couch.
Everything there seemed to be blue…The young boy’s attention was glued to the
sixty-inch television in front of him and he was playing what looked like a
fighting or boxing game. He was maybe ten…or eleven or twelve…I knew nothing
about kids. He was cute. He had dark hair and little freckles across his nose.
Geez, what the hell was he going to think about a strange woman coming out of
his…Dad’s bedroom? Oh man, I hoped there wasn’t a mom around somewhere too. I
started to turn back around but it was too late to make my escape. The little
boy was staring curiously at me now.

 
“Hi,” I said.

“Hey,” was his reply.

“I’m Jessie.”

“Victor,” he said. Then he turned his
attention back to the game.

I looked up on the mantle behind the
television hoping maybe there would be a picture there to solve this mystery.
Victor was obviously not a talker. He reminded me of Paul Delport. Oh my God!

“Victor?”

He looked back up at me. “Yeah?”

“Is Paul Delport your dad?”

“No,” he said.

Whew! That was a close one. If I went home
with Paul, there’s no doubt I’d slept with him. I wasn’t a slut, but I was no
fool either…

“He’s my uncle,” Victor said.

I felt my face lose all of its color. I
was about to ask the boy another question when I heard the front door open. I
looked over to see Paul coming in. He was in a pair of running shorts and a
tank top. He had his iPod tucked in the waist band of his shorts. He had on his
running shoes too. My brilliant detective skills deduced that he must have been
out for a run. Unfortunately, even in my state of panic, his gorgeous
masculinity did not go unnoticed.

“Hi,” he said, glancing at Victor who
didn’t even look up. He looked back at me and I wondered what he was thinking
about the fact I was standing there wrapped up in his comforter.

“Hi.” I forced myself to be polite; it was
his home after all. Can I see you in the…” I looked around and saw a door next
to a little dining room table and four chairs. “The kitchen?”

He motioned toward the door without
speaking. No big surprise there. I was beginning to notice that talking was
either not his best quality, or not his favorite. I went through the door and
he followed me.

With the lump back in my throat I said in
a whisper, “Did we sleep together?”

He didn’t smile, but I got the impression
he wanted to. I was glad I could amuse him. “No,” he said.

“Oh, that’s good.”

“You fell asleep in the truck. I had no
idea where you lived. I tried to wake you up, but you didn’t even flinch until
I got you in the apartment and laid you on the bed.” Those were the most words
I’d heard him string together at once since we’d met. When I processed that he
had to actually carry me into his apartment from the truck and I got a visual
of that in my head, I almost died of humiliation. Oh dear God, how much more
humiliating was this going to get?

“What about my clothes? Why am I in my
underwear?”

“You said your clothes were dirty,” he said.
That time his lips quirked up on the edges.

“Oh, they were!” I was so excited that I
remembered something and I started babbling again, “My washing machine is
broken; It’s been broken for about a week. That’s why I looked so disheveled
this week and my clothes were all wrinkled…Wait a minute…You took them off me
because I said they were dirty?”

“No. You took them off yourself,” he said.
He turned to the refrigerator and pulled something out that looked like a green
protein shake. He shook the container and took a long swig off of it. Then he
said, “Your clothes are on the chair in the corner of my room.”

My face was on fire. I don’t know when
I’ve ever been so embarrassed or ashamed of myself. Here I was accusing him of
taking my clothes off and I was too drunk to even remember what had happened.
Shameless!

“Oh, thanks,” was all I could think of to
say. I turned and did the walk of shame back to his bedroom. I found the
clothes right where he said they would be as well as my shoes and purse. I was
so humiliated I didn’t even know how I would go back out and face him. I was
pretty sure the apartment didn’t have a back door or I would have gone out that
way. I considered escaping out the window but that put me on a whole new level
of desperation. I finally pulled on my clothes and decided that I needed to
further explain myself. I should at least try and explain to him that I’m not
really a drinker. When I got back to the living room, Victor was in the same
spot on the couch but Paul was nowhere to be seen. In the room to my left I
could hear the sounds of a shower running. Victor still hadn’t looked up. I
started to say something but I found that I was even humiliated in the presence
of the young boy. Instead I slunk out the front door like a coward. When I got
to the street I spent ten minutes trying to hail a cab. I finally ended up
walking to the closest bus stop and taking the bus home.

*******

My only saving grace of the miserable
morning was that I wasn’t scheduled with anyone until one o’clock that afternoon.
Mark was once again my first client of the day, but he always came in later on
Sundays because he had a standing appointment with his masseuse Sunday
mornings, and then he took his mother to church. Good old fashioned American
boy. I’m so glad I wasn’t naked in his bed this morning.

Once I finally made it home on that hot,
smelly bus, I called Yolanda who was kind enough to come pick me up and take me
to the sports bar to get my car.

“So how did you get home last night, a
cab?” she asked. I considered lying so that I didn’t have to admit the
embarrassing truth. I hated lying to anyone, much less a friend. I wasn’t very
good at it anyways so I decided to go with a half-truth and I said,

“Paul Delport was nice enough to drive me
home.” Yolanda raised an eyebrow at his name. “What?” I said.

“Oh nothing,” she said.

“Oh come on, now you have to tell me.”

“I’ve just never heard the man even speak.
Greg likes him, but I swear he goes mute when I’m around. I guess that would be
a good guy to have a relationship with…”

I laughed and said, “Yeah, he’s not a big
talker.” I did vaguely remember then about him telling me he’d won fighting
championships…I guess when I was drunk he at least tried to talk to me.

When we got to the bar Yolanda said, “Just
be careful of these arrogant athletic types, honey. I know they’re all you’re
really going to meet working in a gym…but I’d hate to see you get hurt.”

I smiled and said, “Greg’s an athlete.”
Greg played Triple A baseball for quite a few years before opening the gym.

“True, but he’s the exception, not the
rule,” she said with a smile. I thanked her for the ride and for worrying about
me. It was nice of her. They’d kind of adopted me in a strange sort of way.

After I picked up my car, I did a quick
run to my place and then to the laundromat. I’d at least have clothes for
another day or two until I could get the washer fixed. By the time I got home
again I had time to eat a fast lunch, take a shower and then got to work. I
broke a few speed laws, but if a cop doesn’t see you, is it really illegal?
That is the million-dollar question.

Mark was waiting for me when I got to work
and I was mortified to see that Paul was there once again as well.

“Hey, how’s the head?” Mark asked when he
saw me. He was talking way too loud. As a matter of fact, the whole gym seemed
extraordinarily loud.

“The head?” I asked, not sure what he was
talking about. Did I hit my head last night too?

“Yeah, your head,” he said. “After you
tied one on so well last night I was sure you’d have a massive hangover.” I
felt my face turn red again. The humiliation was never going to stop.

“Nah, I’m okay. I wasn’t that drunk,” I
lied. Mark laughed, not buying it either.
 

“You were putting the tequila shots down!”
he said.

“Tequila shots? Really?”

He laughed again and said, “No, I didn’t
see you shooting Tequila. But you must have been drunk because you were about
to believe me.” He had a point, jerk. I’d just take it out on him in the gym.
“I didn’t know Crown Royal could get you to dance on the tables like that.”

“Okay, let’s get started. Weights today,”
I said, changing the subject. I knew by now that he was full of it.

“Shit, I hate weight-training,” he said
with a grin. I just shook my head at him. I gave a sideways glance over to
where Paul and Sam were working. Paul had his back to me, thank God. I had no
idea what I’d even say to him if we had to talk again. At the same time, just
knowing we were in the same room made my stomach flutter. I forced attention
back on Mark.

Mark and I did two days a week of strength
training. Coupled with his conditioning and the fact that he actually worked
out with his coach once a week as well, that was more than enough. That day was
day two of his strength training for the week. On day one we’d had him bench
press, do pull-ups, single leg deadlift, and the Bulgarian squats. He didn’t
complain as much when we worked with the weights as he did when we did
conditioning. That day we were going to do the Military press, chin-ups,
eccentric only pull-ups, and then some light grip and ab work-outs to cool him
down.

I’d spoken too soon about Mark because
that day he whined through most of it. When we got through it all except for
the ab work we happened to be right next to Paul and Sam. I thought about just
not making eye contact with Paul at all, but that was just way too rude
considering what he’d done for me. Instead, I forced myself to make eye contact
and smile. He didn’t smile back; he just continued to concentrate on his
crunches. That was annoying; he could’ve at least forced a smile at the woman
who’d spent the previous night in his bed. Trying too hard, as usual, I looked
at Mark who had really been jumping up and down on my last nerve all session
and I said, “You should be a nice guy like Paul here. I don’t hear him
complaining.”

Mark laughed and said, “You don’t hear him
doing nothing, he barely speaks.”

Paul barely glanced over, not missing a
beat in his work-out. Mark looked interested though, and said, “Paul’s a nice
guy? That’s news to me.” He smiled when he said it and looked over at Paul.

“He’s nice enough to not torture his
trainer with one complaint after the other…Oh! And to look after his nephew. Do
you do that?” I looked at Paul when I said it.

I could hear Mark say, “I don’t have a
nephew. So there. I didn’t know that Paul had a nephew…” but then whatever else
he said was a blur as I realized that Paul suddenly had a really pissed-off
look on his face and it was directed toward me. I’d definitely said something
wrong. Paul finished what he was doing quickly and got up and walked away. I
was confused. What I said was intended to be a compliment. I wondered why it
seemed to make him so angry. Men were so weird sometimes.

I finished up with Mark and was
considering just going home since I didn’t have any other appointments when Sam
said, “Hey, Jessie! Can you come over here for a second?”

He was still with Paul who I really,
really didn’t want to face again. I couldn’t very well ignore Sam, though, so I
sucked it up and went over. “What’s up?” I asked Sam, trying not to look at
Paul. I could feel his eyes boring into me. They felt angry…or annoyed…

“Debbie just called. Her car got a flat on
the 405. She’s calling a tow truck but I’d like to be there to pick her up…I
hate the thought of her out there alone on the side of the freeway…”

“Oh yeah, go get her. I’ll cover for you.”
I had a flat on the 405 once and they’d sent me the strangest tow truck driver
they had, I thought. I had to spend thirty minutes in the truck with him and
there was one point I thought about jumping out on the pavement.

“Well, Paul is my last client so if you’ll
finish up with him for me that’ll be it for the day.” Shit! Damn! Shit! I took
a deep breath and looked at Paul who didn’t look pissed any longer, just
completely disinterested. I preferred pissed. It at least made him look less
like a sculpture and more human.

“Okay, sure…if Paul doesn’t mind,” I said.
Part of me hoped he’d say no way.

“He’s okay with it,” Sam said. “Right?” I
thought Paul nodded, but it was practically imperceptible. He didn’t even talk
well in sign language. I said goodbye to Sam as Paul finished his reps on the
thigh machine and then I tried a smile again and said,

“I’m sorry that I upset you earlier. I’m
not sure what I said—”

“It’s fine,” he said. “I’ve got the bench
next.”

“Okay…but I feel really bad that I upset
you. Sometimes I say things without thinking—”

“I’m not upset,” he snapped. “Can we
finish my work-out now?”

“Yeah, sure.” Yeah, right, he’s not upset.
I wonder if asking what the hell I said to make him that way was too much to
ask. What was up with this guy? We walked over to the weight bench and he sat
down. I was about to ask how much weight he wanted me to put on. Before I asked
him I heard a commotion at the door.