Face the Music Page 6

  I spin around with a simple finger wave goodbye. “Catch you later, Ben.”

  I feel his eyes on my back as I head down the hallway with a little extra swing in my hips. I might burn in hell for hoping his eyes are glued to my ass, but I really hope he’s imagining what I look like naked.

  Chapter Five

  Ben

  “Finally some good news?” Donna says as soon as I turn the corner to my office.

  “What?” I feel as though I missed the entire first part of a conversation.

  And maybe I did. After my literal run-in with Ashleigh in the hallway, my thoughts have been stuck for the last five minutes. The way her eyes lit up when I told her I’d spoken to Kathy about her. It was as if I could see the walls she’s built around herself crumble a little. What really has me shaken is how she looked at me as if I were a hot meal after a long, cold day. The way her gaze licked across my chest, my neck, my mouth… I felt a low simmer of electricity pulse through my veins and gather between my legs. I imagined that we were alone, that I’d given her permission to explore my body with her hands, her tongue—and oh fuck, my dick jumps behind my shorts.

  I do my best to focus on Donna, to think of losing my job because I can’t get my stupid head on straight, to think of Elliot. That does the job. My body calms a little, but even still, Ashleigh is so different from anyone I’ve ever known. So fresh and unexpected.

  “Why are you smiling?” Donna says, having walked around her desk, eyes narrowed on me.

  Great question, why am I smiling?

  I’m under investigation.

  I just had a horrible conversation with my brother where I had to turn down an incredible offer, then hear him say some very difficult things about Maggie’s death.

  I have no reason to smile.

  And yet.

  “I don’t know why I’m smiling.”

  She frowns. “Nothing to do with Mrs. Jones and Mr. Gunthry?”

  “No. Why? Have you heard anything?”

  “Nothing. Although I just caught them lurking in the hallway.”

  “Just now?” I point over my shoulder toward the hallway where I was talking to Ashleigh.

  I wonder if they saw us. Could they see how the woman affects me? If they had any idea the torrid places my mind went while we spoke, I’d be fired immediately. My chest tightens with worry.

  Ashleigh tends to dress for attention. Jones and Gunthry would get the wrong impression, and if they actually interview her? If her questionnaire answers were any indication, I’d say she’d raise more than a few flags.

  “Okay, what gives?” Donna’s glare tightens. “Now you’re smiling even more.”

  I am, aren’t I? The idea of Ashleigh sticking it to Jones and Gunthry should not make me grin. Interesting. “Can’t a man be happy without needing to have a reason?”

  “Most men can, of course. But I assumed with the pressure of the investigation, and the fact that you’ve never really been a smiley guy, something’s up. What is it?”

  “Nothing.” I walk by her and into my office. I check the time. It’s six o’clock. “Do you know how long the volunteer classes last?”

  “Not long. Forty minutes. An hour tops.”

  There are a million little things I can do around here while I wait for Ashleigh to finish class. I make a couple phone calls—one to ensure I can get Ashleigh’s phone fixed tonight, and the second to ask Colette if she can stay a little later. She doesn’t answer, so I leave her a message.

  I wash my face and change my clothes, then I work a little more on this upcoming weekend’s sermon. I clean out my email and go through a stack of visitor cards from last week all while obsessively checking the clock.

  After fifty minutes, I decide to go in search of Ashleigh. I grab my things and shut down the lights in the office, since Donna left earlier. I head toward Kathy’s office and stop when I hear her voice. Class must be running a little late—

  “We insist you focus your attention on the women to keep you from giving the wrong impression—”

  I step into the doorway and stand there watching, waiting to be noticed. The look on Kathy’s face tells me everything I need to know. She despises Ashleigh, and she’s making her pay for it.

  “Even though we’re sure you’re well versed in the techniques of greeting men, Ms. Kendrick.” Kathy smirks.

  “Ms. Watson!”

  Kathy’s eyes snap to mine. Her expression softens. She must not know how much I heard. “Pastor Langley.”

  “A word, please?”

  She smooths her skirt with her palms. I don’t watch her approach me, but rather duck into the hallway and wait for her to join me.

  She closes the door behind her. “What is it—”

  “Is that how you talk to all our volunteers?”

  She seems put off by my question, still unconvinced that I heard anything too damning. “All I said was that I’m sure she’s good with men.” She juts her chin. “But while we’re on the subject, I’ve made my feelings about Ashleigh clear. She’s not a good fit.”

  “I disagree. I think Ashleigh is honest and real, and frankly, we could use a lot more of that here.”

  “With all due respect,” she says through tight lips, “I think you’re making a mistake.”

  My jaw flexes. “Noted.”

  She manages to hide her anger behind a tight smile. “Well, enough about that.” Her expression softens even more. “I was hoping I could discuss with you my ideas for the homecoming potluck this year.”

  “Talk to Donna. She’s planning the event.”

  Her nostrils flare. “Yes, you’ve mentioned that. But I have a few ideas I hoped I could get your feedback on.” The door behind Kathy opens and Ashleigh walks out. She eyes the space between Kathy and me. “Maybe over coffee?”

  I step around Kathy quickly, some ridiculous part of my brain not wanting to give Ashleigh the wrong impression.

  “Pastor Langley,” Kathy says.

  “Sure,” I answer whatever she’s asking and focus on Ashleigh. “Hey.”

  She leans around me to glare at Kathy, then her eyes come back to me with suspicion. “Hey.” She repeats the greeting slowly.

  “I was hoping I could get your phone fixed for you really quick.”

  “Right now?”

  “Yes,” I say, and I feel my lips curve into a grin, which is weird because I can’t figure out what would be funny or entertaining right now.

  “I already told you it’s cool. It was already broken.”

  “All the more reason to get it fixed.” I check my watch. “We have to get going though. The guy at the repair place is staying late for me.”

  She nods toward the hallway. “Lead the way.”

  We pass a snarling Kathy and I make a mental note to have Donna speak with her about her attitude. How she spoke to Ashleigh was unacceptable, and I plan to keep a close eye on Kathy from now on.

  “I’ll drive,” I say.

  She stops abruptly, just shy of stepping off the sidewalk into the parking lot.

  I turn to see what the problem is. “What?”

  She’s got a subtle deer-in-the-headlights thing going on. “I can just meet you there.”

  “You don’t know where it is.”

  “You can tell me.”

  Okay, now I’m getting suspicious. I step a little closer so she can hear me when I whisper, “Is there a reason you don’t want to come in my car with me?”

  “Is there a reason why you want me to?”

  “Yes. Because we’re going to the same place. Because it makes more sense to ride together. Because it saves gas. And in turn the environment. Because we’re friends. Because why not?” Because I like being with you.

  With a quick shrug, she’s back to walking toward my car. “Okay.”

  “That was easy.”

  “I always am.” She flashes me a wicked smile that I feel… everywhere.

  I click the key fob on my new Jeep Cherokee, thanks to my brother’s
record label. The vehicle is black on black with dark tinted windows. Not ideal for the Arizona sun, but it beats my old minivan.

  I toss my bag in the backseat then open the passenger’s side door and motion for Ashleigh to get in.

  “I should’ve known you’d be a gentleman,” she says as she climbs in.

  I fix my gaze to the headrest to avoid staring at her long legs. If she caught me looking, my entire reputation would be flushed. I’d no longer be the good pastor. I’d be the creepy pastor.

  I close her inside, circle around the hood, and climb in.

  “How did you find a phone repair shop open after five o’clock at night on a Wednesday?”

  I fire up the engine and head toward the main road. “A guy from the church owns the place. Howard Green?”

  “How would I know him?”

  “You’re there every Sunday. The church is small. Figured you might have met him before.”

  “Nah,” she says, twirling a long strand of her hair around her finger. “I don’t talk to people.”

  “Why not? You seem outgoing, and you did sign up to be a greeter, which means you’ll be talking to people.”

  She wrinkles her nose. The look is so cute on her. “Church people aren’t my jam.”

  “I get that.”

  She turns to me. “You do?”

  “Sure.” I sneak a peek at her, and when my eyes drop to her bare legs, I instantly regret it.

  Thank goodness it’s dark—I hope she didn’t see me ogling her. I’ve never had a problem controlling my eyes around women, but for some reason, around this woman, I find it hard to police myself. Her look is eye-catching, like a cartoon character come to life, and I mean that in a Jessica Rabbit kind of way.

  I’ve been around women my entire life, and this one is more magnetic than any I’ve seen in the last decade. I don’t know if it’s her laid-back personality, her bright clothes and even brighter smile, or all the subliminal sex vibes she puts out, but my body wakes up and stands at attention when she’s around. And I like the way it feels.

  “Here we are.” I park in the small lot.

  We walk side by side into the store at the corner of the rundown strip mall. I hold open the door for her, and she passes through with, if I’m not imagining it, a soft grin on her pretty lips.

  Pretty lips?

  I stand frozen in the doorway. What the hell is wrong with me? I’m a married man, for crying out loud.

  “Are you coming?” she asks from the counter inside.

  I eye her for a minute, wondering if this simple phone screen repair could end up being a huge mistake.

  I give her a quick, curt nod, then join her inside.

  Ashleigh

  Don’t read into his kindness.

  He’s not flirting, he’s just a nice guy.

  In my experience, men who open doors are only doing it because they’re after something. That something usually involves me being naked or close to it. I have to guard myself from mistaking Ben’s chivalry as signs that he wants to have sex.

  Of course he doesn’t want to have sex with me.

  He’s married.

  Widowed, but still in a committed relationship with the memory of his wife.

  A wife who was nothing like me.

  Even if the man decided to move on, he wouldn’t choose a barmaid who has racked up more sexual partners than she can even count. He’d pick someone more conservative. Maybe a virgin or a young divorcee who considers herself a born-again virgin. She’d be sweet and quiet, the opposite of my vulgar, loud mouth, and she’d know the Bible inside and out. They’d sit around quoting verses, and when they had parties, they’d play Bible trivia and act surprised when they win every round. A yawn claws its way up my throat.

  “Long day?” Ben asks after handing my phone off to Howard, an eighty-year-old man with thick glasses and a kind smile. He takes it into the back to replace the glass.

  “I worked last night.” And I’m having some kind of ex-sex-tential dilemma and couldn’t force myself to get laid. “I have a hard time winding down after work.”

  Usually a few good orgasms help, but I can’t seem to find myself one of those either. Not even on my own.

  “Rough hours.” Why is he speaking soft and sweet and mixing all the signals?

  I tilt my head and study him. He’s changed back into his conservative pastor clothes, but I haven’t forgotten what his upper arms and shoulders look like underneath. Strong, massive handles perfect for holding on to when straddling his lap. Oh, what do ya know? Now my body responds.

  An opportunity to have sex with someone willing and I’m ice.

  A little kindness from a man I have zero chance with and my body is throbbing all over.

  What kind of masochistic shit is this?

  “Look, Ben…” I can’t believe I’m going to say this. “I know you’re just naturally a sweet guy.”

  “You think?” The corner of his mouth tics up and he boldly holds eye contact.

  Is he flirting?

  No. I shake my head and decide I must be more exhausted than I thought. “Yes, I do. But you should know that sometimes being this nice to a woman can be misunderstood as—”

  “I’m sorry.” He reaches in his pocket and pulls out his phone. “It’s home. Probably the nanny.” His eyes warm on mine. “Hold that thought.” He presses the phone to his ear. “Hey, Colette.” His expression falls instantly. “Elliot? What happened? Where’s Colette?”

  My pulse speeds as I watch Ben’s eyes tighten, his jaw get hard, and his muscles seemingly swell beneath his shirt.

  “I’m on my way. Stay on the phone.” He steps toward the door, then doubles back to me. “I’m sorry, we have to go.”

  “What happened? Is Elliot okay?”

  “She’s fine. Her babysitter put something in the oven and then took off in a car with her boyfriend, saying she’d only be gone for a minute.”

  “What the fuck?”

  “I have to—”

  I snag the phone from his hand. “I’ll talk. You drive.”

  “Wait, what about your phone?”

  I push the door open and motion for him to hurry up. “I’ll pick it up tomorrow. Hurry.”

  We jog to his car, and in seconds, we’re peeling out onto the straightaway headed toward his house.

  “Hey, midget, it’s Ash.”

  She sniffs. “Is Dad on his way?”

  The fear and sadness in her voice stir my anger. “Yeah, babe. We’re both on our way and we’re so close, okay?”

  “It smells funny in here. I’m scared.”

  “I know. So um… what are you watching on television?” The streetlights form a solid streak of light as Ben pushes the speed limit.

  “S-s-spongeBob.”

  “Oh yeah? Which episode?”

  “I don’t know.” Her voice quakes with a sob.

  “Have you seen the one where they stop making crabby patties and make pizza instead?”

  Another shaky sniff. “Yes.”

  “Do you remember the song?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I clear my throat and bust into the tune. “The Krusty Krab Pizza, is the pizza, for you and me.”

  She makes a small squeak.

  I continue to sing the stupid song. “Remember how grumpy Squidward was?”

  “Yes.” I hear a tiny smile behind her tears and swear I could do backflips with the satisfaction I feel.

  “You want to sing with me?”

  “No.”

  I chuckle and sing alone until I run out of verses and I start making shit up.

  “That’s not part of the song.”

  “Are you sure? I’m pretty sure it is.”

  A tiny giggle erupts through her sniffles. “He never says pepperoni pizza is mizza favritzza.”

  “No? Huh…” I brace myself to keep from slamming against the door as Ben makes a hard right onto his street. “I could’ve sworn.” His house comes into view. “We’re pulling up now,
babe. Stay inside, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Ben throws the car in park, and before the engine stops, he’s out and jogging up to the doorway. He shoves his keys in and throws open the door. I hang up the phone when I see Elliot drop the receiver and race into her dad’s arms to break down and sob.

  “It’s okay, baby. I’m here.” He buries his face in her hair, breathing her in, and I watch his shoulders relax with every breath. “You’re okay.”

  I step inside, pull a cookie sheet with chicken nuggets that resemble charcoal out of the oven, and put the cordless phone back on the charger.

  Ben’s eyes are glossy and his expression is hard, but he mouths, “Thank you.”

  I mouth back, “You’re welcome,” and make myself busy getting Elliot a Kleenex and a glass of water from the kitchen while her dad calms her down.

  “What happened?” he asks.

  “Colette had her boyfriend over—”

  “What the fu—ubble…” I bite my lips together.

  “They were outside for a long time then Colette said you weren’t coming home and that she had to go but she would come back. The stove started beeping and smelling bad and she never came back.” Hysteria grows in her voice with each word until she crumbles again and falls into her dad’s arms.

  He shakes his head, his shoulders tense, and his jaw works as if he’s fantasizing about chewing that bitch up and spitting her out. Not that I blame him. I’d love to give that hoe a piece of my mind.

  After a few sorrowful minutes, he attempts to peel her monkey-grip from around his neck. “Why don’t you go sit on the couch so I can call Colette?” When she doesn’t let go, his eyes plead for help.

  I squat beside Elliot, and when she opens her tear-stained eyes, she calms a little. “Did you eat dinner?”

  She shakes her head.

  “In the mood for a Krusty Krab Pizza?”

  She sniffs, leans away from her dad a little, and wipes her eyes with her forearm. “Those a-a-aren’t r-real.”

  “Of course they are. Come on, let’s order one and see if we can get SpongeBob to deliver.”