Hot Under His Collar Read online

  “That’s a big ask, man.” He’d just wanted to vent, not heap any obligations on his friend.

  “Don’t even start, bro.” Jack gave him a “you’ve got to be kidding me” look. “If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be married to Hannah. Let us help.”

  “It’s twenty-five thousand dollars’ worth of help.” Maybe if he understood the gravity of the problem, Jack would back off. Damn, but Patrick hated depending on anyone else.

  Jack just shrugged. “Hannah and Sasha raised that much money for some children’s charity last week. In one night.”

  “I can’t afford to pay them.”

  Jack shook his head. “They’ll give you the family discount.”

  “I can’t afford to pay them anything.”

  “The family discount is free.” Jack stood up. “And maybe this beer.”

  Patrick wasn’t quite sure what to say. He was always floored when someone showed him a kindness, even though kindness and charity were sort of his things. “It’s too much, man.”

  “No.” Jack looked him right in the eyes. “It’s not.”

  Then, his best friend went over and talked to Sasha and her date for long enough that it was clear that Jack didn’t like the guy either. Otherwise, he would have left them to enjoy their drinks in peace.

  CHAPTER THREE

  HOW LONG HAD IT been since Sasha hadn’t dreaded answering her mother’s calls? It seemed like forever. She had to pick up by the third ring unless she wanted to be interrogated about what she had been doing that kept her from picking up promptly. This time, she answered from her watch before the phone started vibrating in her gym bag.

  “What are you doing?” Her mother’s question sounded innocuous, but Sasha wasn’t new here.

  “Walking.” The best strategy with Moira Finerghty was to give her as little information as possible. She hoarded information like weapons to be deployed at will.

  “Shouldn’t you be working?” Even that morsel was too much. Not that her mother would know what it was like to work a job outside of ladies’ lunches with her cronies, during which they drank vats of gin and tore down whoever couldn’t join them that day. Good times.

  “I’m an event planner, Mom. Most of my work is at night.” Sasha knew that was a mistake the moment she said it.

  “That explains why you can’t seem to meet a nice man.” There it went. About thirty seconds into her conversation. This might be a record.

  Her best option now was a redirect. She sighed. “Did you need something, Mom?”

  Because her parents had paid for her condo in Chicago, she owed it to them to pretend she respected them the two times a year she visited and over the phone. It strained more and more every year, but she should be able to pay her own way soon. And then— she allowed herself to fantasize for a brief moment. Then she might never talk to either of her parents and maybe even her sisters again.

  “I just called to tell you that Marlena is pregnant.” Somehow, her mother managed to share that otherwise happy information with judgment toward Sasha’s different choices. Sasha would never, ever talk to her daughter that way if she was lucky enough to have one.

  “That’s wonderful news,” Sasha said, with genuine happiness for her sister. They didn’t understand each other, but she wished her sister every joy. “I will call her after my workout class.”

  She had never been so happy to see the gym where she and Hannah took bootcamp classes three times a week. That kind of suffering she could handle.

  “I gotta go, Mom.” She opened the glass door, and then raised her voice over the din of the waiting room. She spotted Hannah and pointed at her phone, mouthing, “My mom.” Hannah rolled her eyes in sympathy. “I’m at the gym.”

  “Well, at least you aren’t letting yourself get fat,” her mom said, and then hung up. Nothing like a little fat-shaming to sign off with. Next time she’d be sure to tell her mother about eating a really decadent dessert, just to spike Moira’s blood pressure.

  Sasha had actually always loved working out. It was one of the only activities that allowed her to make her mother think she was complying with the patriarchal beauty standards the Finerghty women were bound to by tradition, while simultaneously making her feel strong and capable. It was both compliant and subversive.

  Hannah used to joke that Sasha had grown up preparing to be a revolutionary in Gilead but stopped when Sasha told her that it hit far too close to home. That was the great thing about having a friend like Hannah—she would say anything but shut up quick if her honesty was inadvertently hurtful.

  Today, however, her best friend was uncharacteristically silent at their workout class. And a little bit green around the gills. This was deeply concerning, because she could usually count on Hannah to get her through a bootcamp workout with the power of her sarcasm.

  Without the running commentary, she felt as though she was dragging through the class.

  “Are you okay?” Sasha asked during a water break.

  Sasha looked at her best friend, and Hannah looked decidedly not okay. Her normally flawless skin was an alarming shade of green.

  “Do you need to leave?”

  Hannah held up one finger. “I think . . .” That was all she got out before running out the door and straight toward the bathroom. Sasha smiled apologetically at the instructor and gathered both their things.

  Although she was concerned about Hannah, she had an inkling of what was going on. Hannah and Jack had gotten married last year, and this was probably part of the natural course of things. Sasha would definitely ignore the jealous feelings she had that her friend was probably pregnant, and she was ambivalent about going on a second date with the only relevant guy who’d shown interest in months.

  She was not a bad friend, and this was about Hannah. Whom she found retching in the bathroom stall farthest from the door. Sasha knocked gently.

  “Just leave me here to die.”

  Sasha ignored her and swung the stall door open. “That’s not part of the deal.”

  “I did not sign up for this when I agreed to get sperminated.” Well, if she had her sense of humor, she was probably further from death than Sasha thought.

  “Didn’t you?” When Hannah shot her a death glare over her shoulder, Sasha added, “Congratulations?”

  “I was going to tell you today at brunch.” Hannah clutched the sides of the toilet and puked again. They were definitely going to have to take a car home, and Sasha left the stall briefly to grab some of the plastic bags the gym provided for soiled workout gear for the ride. At least their misadventures in college had prepared Hannah to puke discreetly in the back of a cab.

  “I would have guessed when you ordered an orange juice without champagne in it.”

  Hannah nodded pathetically. “That definitely would have given me away.”

  Sasha sighed. “How are we going to get you home?”

  “I can’t go home,” Hannah whined. “I was supposed to meet with Father Patrick.”

  Sasha tried her best to ignore the frisson of awareness that just hearing his name spread through her. “What for?”

  “The pre-K program is in some financial trouble, and Jack said that we’d help out.” Hannah made a vague motion with her hands. “Set up a fundraiser.”

  “He did?” Sasha really liked Jack, but sometimes he was entirely too nice. And sometimes his too-niceness forced her and Hannah to commit to things that they did not need to commit to. But one fundraiser wasn’t a huge deal. Her hesitation wasn’t about the extra work.

  It was about whom they were doing it for.

  If it was any other priest who needed help saving a preschool program, Sasha wouldn’t hesitate. She had to be careful not to hesitate now, or Hannah would know something was up. She might be incapacitated, but she was way too sharp, and they’d known each other for too long for Sasha to be able to obfuscate.

  “I’ll go to the meeting for you.”

  That got Hannah to raise her head. “You will?” She sounded so pathetic that Sasha had to fight off a smile. It was only since she’d met and fallen in love with Jack that she’d let herself be vulnerable around anyone.

  “Of course I will.”

  “But you’ll have to be alone with Father Patrick.” Hannah had noted that Sasha avoided interacting with Father Patrick; that’s how she’d figured out that Sasha had a crush. Best friend logic at work.

  “It will be fine.” Sasha tried to make herself sound nonchalant and failed.

  It was Hannah’s turn to sigh. “Okay, well, as long as your crush on him isn’t going to be a problem.”

  “He’s a priest,” Sasha said. Again. Because they’d had this conversation before. “My crush on him is nothing compared to how he feels about God.”

  “God schmod.” Hannah pushed herself up so that she leaned against the wall. Progress.

  “Besides, he doesn’t even like me. Even if he wasn’t a priest, it’s not like love would blossom.” If he wasn’t a priest, she might not have a crush on him. Or she would, but it would be because he didn’t seem to like her very much. Better to imagine him pushing her against a wall and grunting. Saying some mean sexy stuff in her ear as he hiked up her dress and—

  “Not true. Patrick likes everyone.” Maybe Hannah just hadn’t noticed the way that Patrick looked at her—through her. If she’d seen the way he turned away without greeting her the other night, Hannah would know like she did that Patrick barely tolerated her.

  “Falling in love has addled your brain, my friend.” As though since Hannah had fallen in love, everything and everyone around her was encased in a puffy pink cloud.
Even those people who had made deliberate decisions in their life not to pair up. “And he doesn’t like me. You should have seen the look that he gave me when I walked into Dooley’s with a date the other night.”

  “Jack said that you had a date at Dooley’s, but that Patrick seemed irked to see your date.” Of course Jack would have mentioned that to Hannah. He’d sat with them for long enough that it had gotten awkward and Nathan had ended the date. “Jack said he seemed like a douche.”

  That was the conclusion that Sasha had come to, but it was disheartening to hear her friend’s husband concurred. Still, she would probably go out with him again. Just because there hadn’t been a spark over one date—maybe something would develop over time. She could see herself being friends with Nathan. Maybe that could grow to be more. And maybe she could stop thinking about Patrick and how he’d sound grunting and saying dirty things and doing under-her-skirt things.

  Probably not. But that wasn’t going to get Hannah home and taking care of herself. Even if Patrick didn’t like her, and her crush on him was out of control, she needed to do this for her best friend and the only person who really seemed to understand her. Her ride or die.

  “Anyhow, it doesn’t matter.” Sasha straightened up as much as she could. “I will go over to the church to meet with Patrick, and you will go home and go to bed.”

  “We have too much work to do.” Of course they did; they owned a business.

  “You are allowed to answer e-mails if you are feeling better this afternoon.”

  “Thanks, Mommy.” Hannah must already be feeling better if she was calling her names.

  “That’s your new title.”

  They made it out of the bathroom, out of the gym, and onto the sidewalk to wait for a car before Hannah picked up the earlier thread from their conversation. “So, how was the date?”

  Sasha shrugged. “It was just a beer at Dooley’s—and your husband joined us for the second half.” She didn’t want to say too much, because he probably wouldn’t call again. “No big.” Wanting to change the subject, Sasha said, “Jack did mention wanting to talk to us about a favor, but he didn’t say anything about it having to do with Patrick.”

  “Was he cute?” Hannah wasn’t going to let this go, and Sasha wasn’t going to put her in a car alone if she was still feeling terrible. “I need details. All Jack said was the douchebag thing.”

  Sasha understood the prodding. She used to get excited about a new prospect and spill all the details. But—for a while now—she hadn’t felt like sharing a whole lot because it wasn’t like anything permanent was going to come from her endless dates. It used to be fun to meet new guys and flirt and wait to see what kind of freaks they would reveal themselves to be.

  Now . . . now it was just tedious. Hannah, more than anyone, should understand this.

  “He works in the front office for the baseball team we don’t like.” She left out the part where Nathan had said that he’d seen Sasha at a couple of events before asking her out. She knew that would put up Hannah’s creep antennae.

  “Did you make out with him?”

  Sasha made a face. For some reason, she couldn’t imagine making out with Nathan because she’d been on a date with him in the same room as Father Patrick. The whole time, she’d felt his gaze on her back. The little hairs there had stood up. She had barely registered Nathan as a sexually viable entity because Patrick was there.

  She was sort of mad at herself for ruining what could have been a perfectly good date for a cheap thrill. By all accounts, she should be into Nathan rather than Patrick. He’d been into her before her date, and it was her fault that it was awkward.

  “If he calls again, will you go out with him?” Hannah’s question made things clear.

  “Of course. He was perfectly nice.”

  The car they’d called pulled up to the curb, and Hannah rolled her eyes before getting in. “Sounds like a ringing endorsement.”

  * * *

  —

  WHEN PATRICK WALKED INTO his office, he expected to see Hannah. He stutter-stepped when he saw Sasha sitting in the chair across from his desk—prim, as always, with her ankles crossed. How was it possible that she had sexy ankles? Jesus, her ankles? He really needed to say more Hail Marys.

  She must have heard him padding across the ancient blue carpet because she stood and turned to him. He took a deep breath, which was a mistake because her smell got in his nostrils. If he still bet on those kinds of things, he would bet that her skin tasted like a ripe piece of fruit.

  He cleared his throat and motioned for her to sit down. If she was sitting, maybe he wouldn’t think about wrapping his hands around her nipped-in waist while she wrapped her mile-long legs around him.

  “I’m sorry that it’s me.” She looked down, flushed. And the part of him that he tried to forget existed got a thrill from that. “Hannah is feeling under the weather.”

  “Oh, it’s fine.” It wasn’t fine. He cleared his throat. “That is—I hope it’s nothing serious.”

  Then, Sasha gave him a secret smile, a smile that made him regret being born. Because if he hadn’t been born, he wouldn’t have become a priest. He wouldn’t have given up secret smiles from prim-looking women that he wanted to unravel. He was full of regrets when she smiled at him, because he knew her smiles weren’t for him.

  They were for guys like the one she’d come into the bar with the other night.

  “How was your date?” Oddly, his question made her secret smile disappear.

  Sasha made a rather inelegant noise. “It was fine.”

  “Just fine?” He was stupid for asking, but his curiosity about what kind of man a woman like Sasha would fall for ate at him. It goaded him into dancing on the edge of propriety.

  “Yeah, you know how—” She stopped, seeming to remember whom she was talking to. “Well, dating is hard. It’s hard to find someone you click with, and it’s rare when it happens right off the bat. Sometimes I wonder . . .”

  When she trailed off, he debated whether he should say anything. On the one hand, she seemed distressed about her date just being fine. On the other hand, he was relieved. But he shouldn’t be relieved. It was not as though he could expect her to stay single. He was the one who’d made that vow. “You should give it another try. Sometimes it takes more than one date to get to know someone well enough to know if you’re interested.”

  She looked up at him, her gaze sharper than he’d ever seen it. “How would you know?”

  He liked it when she had her back up like this. Like, how dare he give her advice? And she was right; he had no business telling her how to live her life. She wasn’t a part of his flock. They weren’t even friends. But the way she looked at him made blood pump through his veins—it made him feel alive. And although he knew he shouldn’t even get a thrill out of talking to her, he smiled. “I wasn’t always a priest.”

  His voice was lower and more suggestive than it had needed to be, and she flushed again. This was going nowhere quickly, so he decided to get to the subject at hand.

  “So, did Hannah give you the lowdown?”

  Sasha looked at the sheaf of papers on her lap. “Yes, she said that you need to raise twenty-five thousand dollars by the end of the summer, or the pre-K program shuts down.”

  The furrow in her brow was supremely cute. If he were a different man, he wouldn’t be able to resist smoothing it out with his thumb. He cleared his throat again. “Do you need a lozenge?” she asked, reaching for her bag.

  “Uh, no.” Patrick shook his head. “You’re correct about the situation. We’ve never had such a large budget shortfall before, and Jack offered your help. If you’re too busy with Hannah sick, I totally understand if you can’t spare the time.”

  “Oh no.” It was Sasha’s turn to shake her head. “I did research on your program before I came over here. It’s the only one in this part of the city that offers affordable pre-K education for kids with low incomes and special needs. It needs to stay open.” She flexed her hand and hit her thigh a few times for emphasis, and any reservations he had about working with her would have to dwell in the back of his mind—exactly where he’d put the consistent ache she caused whenever they were in the same room.