Face the Music Page 8

  And what do you know, just thinking about Ben and anything stiff in the same sentence has me squirming.

  “Oh, Ben… what I would do to you if you’d give me the chance.”

  I’m so turned on by the thoughts whirling in my head, I have to get out of my car or I’m liable to do something highly illegal if caught.

  Save that for after work when I’m in bed and can really let my imagination run wild.

  Chapter Seven

  Ben

  “As much as you might want to have sex before you’re married, I highly advise you to wait,” I say to the young engaged couple sitting on the couch in my office for premarital therapy.

  “I don’t understand why she wanted to wait,” Jeff says. There’s always one in every relationship lobbying for premarital sex. “If we’re engaged, we’re committed. We’ll be married in two months. I don’t see what the big deal is.”

  Wanted to wait. Past tense.

  I focus on Jeff’s fiancée, Shannon. Her body language is screaming what she refuses to say. Shoulders slumped, eyes to her lap, hands clasped as she picks at her nails.

  I turn my attention back to Jeff. “You’ve been pressuring Shannon to have sex, haven’t you?” It’s not really a question, and Jeff’s surprised response tells me all I need to know. I turn to Shannon, who seems to have sunk deeper into herself. “Shannon, is there anything you’d like to say?”

  She sniffs and I hand her a tissue.

  This fucking guy.

  I swear every warm-blooded male in existence needs a lesson on what it looks like to respect a woman. Pressuring a woman—whether she be a girlfriend, fiancée, or wife—to have sex is absolutely inexcusable.

  “Do you really want to marry this guy, Shannon?”

  Her eyes dart to me as Jeff’s dart to her.

  “Be honest. This is a safe space.”

  She rubs the tissue to her nose and dabs her eyes. “Well, the invitations already went out and—”

  “Shannon!” Jeff seems utterly shocked, which further points to what a jackass he is.

  “I wasn’t finished,” she says, her spine getting straighter. “You never let me finish!”

  I nod encouragingly to Jeff. “Please, you pressured your way into her body. Let’s not also pressure your way into her head, ‘kay?”

  His mouth falls open.

  “He told me—” She sniffles and dabs at more tears. “That God wouldn’t care because we’re engaged anyway and I just got so sick of him asking, I did it so he’d shut up.”

  I lift a brow at Jeff. Way to go, loser. “Two months. You couldn’t hang in there for two more months.”

  He falls back to the couch with his mouth shut.

  “Shannon, God does care, but He also loves you no matter what. Sex can confuse feelings and create complicated emotional attachments. I think the fact that you’re here crying is a good example of how sex before marriage can complicate things.”

  She nods.

  “The question I want you to wrestle with this week is whether or not you want to commit the rest of your life to a man who doesn’t respect your boundaries. It’s never too late to change your mind, invitations be damned—”

  “Hey!” Jeff says, his face flushing with anger.

  “Our time is up.” I slap my thighs and stand. “See you next week?”

  Jeff huffs and stomps out of the room.

  Shannon looks me in the eye and says, “Thank you, Pastor Langley.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Yeah, she’s way too good for that asshat.

  I see them out only to find Mrs. Jones and Mr. Gunthry waiting in the lobby by Donna’s desk.

  “Bad session?” Mr. Gunthry says while scribbling something on a notepad.

  “No, actually. I think we made some productive breakthroughs.”

  His eyes are cold under bushy gray brows. “Do all your productive sessions end with the couple leaving separately and one of them mumbling a series of curse words under his breath?”

  I cross my arms. “Is there a reason you’re both lurking in my office?”

  “Nope,” Mrs. Jones says. “I think we’re done for the day.”

  They gather their things and leave.

  I look at Donna, who drops her forehead onto her desk as soon as they leave. “They give me the worst anxiety.”

  “Don’t give them that much power. We have nothing to hide.” I grab a stack of messages from her desk. “Did the babysitting service email over any new potential nannies yet?”

  “Not yet.” She sits back so I can see her face. “But after you sent over your list of requirements, it may take them a while to find someone with all your desired qualifications.”

  “I don’t think I’m asking too much.”

  “You’re basically looking for someone with a PhD in child development and medicine, who has a perfect record without so much as a parking ticket, and with no less than ten references.”

  “Sounds reasonable to me.”

  The phone rings and she shakes her head at me before answering.

  I go back to my office and pull out my cell.

  Bethany left me a text.

  On my way to Arizona to watch Elliot while you find a replacement. Don’t say no, I’m already on the road. #bestsisterinlawever

  I call her, but it goes straight to voicemail. So I dial up my brother, who answers on the second ring.

  “Wife-stealer!”

  “Jes, I didn’t ask for Bethany to come.”

  “No, but you knew she would because she’s basically a fucking angel. Now I’m stuck here with no one to make me laugh or cuddle my dick.”

  “I don’t… have a response for that. I’ll send her home as soon as she gets here.”

  “You can’t do that. You’ll break her heart. Just find a nanny and send my wife home.”

  “I’m trying.”

  “Good.” I hear him tell someone he’ll be right back before the sound of a door shuts in the background. “Sorry, I was in a meeting.”

  Only a rock star could get away with taking a call and talking like that in the middle of a meeting. I have to laugh. Only my baby brother could seduce the entire world. “I’ll let you go—”

  “What’s up with you and Ash?”

  “Ashleigh?” My body warms just saying her name. “Nothing.”

  He chuckles. “Isn’t lying a sin?”

  “I’m not lying.” There really is nothing between us. There is only me having some pretty inappropriate thoughts about her. Thoughts a married man should not be having. Thoughts that no one needs to know about because I will never act on them.

  “Let me rephrase. What’s up with you getting a hard-on around Ashleigh?”

  I groan and drop my forehead into my hand. I knew she felt that. Dammit to shit! “Bethany tell you that?” Of course, because Ashleigh just had to tell Bethany.

  “Naw, I was listening to them talk and Ash told Bethany. She seemed pretty hyped on it, bro. Like, I got the sense she liked it and was hoping for a test run—”

  “We’ve been through this. I’m married.”

  “Yeah, except… you’re not.”

  I open my mouth to respond but slam it shut because technically he’s right. But how do I convince my heart of that? It’s impossible. Every part of my soul was bound to Maggie the day we said our vows. How do I go about pulling apart what God joined together?

  Getting a boner against Ashleigh’s ass is a good start.

  And what does that even mean?

  It’s not that I haven’t felt arousal since Maggie. I have, but it’s only ever when I’m alone. The women at church—even the ones who make it clear they’re interested in something more—do nothing for me. And yet, being with Ashleigh is like zapping my deceased libido with a defibrillator.

  “I wouldn’t even know where to start.” Whoa… am I seriously considering this?

  “Ask her for a blow job, see where that leads you.”

  “Jes—”

&n
bsp; “Ugh, fine. I get it, Mr. Morality. Ask her if she wants to do whatever you boring people do. Ask her out for lunch or coffee or a fucking movie.”

  “Do you think…” I chew my lip, nerves and unease plucking at my pulse. “I mean, you think she’d be down for that?”

  “Fuck yes! The woman has wanted to bone you since she met you! How are we related and yet you’re so dumb?”

  “I guess you got all the brains and I got all the talent.”

  He laughs. “You’re not wrong. Which reminds me, you give any more thought to coming out here to record?”

  “I’m pretty sure I already told you no.”

  “Yeah, I’m not taking no for an answer. Let me know when you come to your senses.”

  “You’re the definition of hardheaded.”

  “According to Ashleigh, I’m afraid you get that title.”

  “I’m hanging up now.”

  “Your dick still works! That’s a huge victory. Now put it to good use!”

  “Goodbye, Jes.”

  “Later, Benji.”

  I hang up and palm my phone.

  A date. That sounds innocent enough.

  I can’t believe I’m even considering this. Maybe it’s a momentary lack of judgment. I’ll pray about it and see how I feel tomorrow. As quickly as that thought crosses my mind, a powerful burst of excitement fills my chest.

  Would Ashleigh say yes to going out with me?

  Do I have the balls to find out?

  Chapter Eight

  Ashleigh

  “Good morning and welcome to church.” I have no idea who most of these people are, but in volunteer prep 101, I was told to call people by their names. This guy looks like the fried chicken guy. I hand them a bulletin. “Colonel and Mrs. Sanders.”

  They look at me a little funny, but don’t correct me. Probably for the best. I wouldn’t remember their actual names anyway.

  “Welcome to church,” I say, handing out bulletins to a family with a ton of kids, “Brady family.”

  They smile awkwardly but pass on, eyeing me as if I’m crazy. I probably do look a little deranged. I had a gigantic coffee at three in the morning and only finally stopped shaking an hour before I got here. Thankfully the club is closed on Sunday nights, so I plan to spend the afternoon in a coma.

  “Welcome to church, Betty.”

  The woman who looks as old as Betty White takes the bulletin and tells me her name is Olive.

  I frown. I prefer Betty. “Good morning, welcome to church.”

  I continue greeting and smiling and feeling… well, not really all that much better about myself. That is, until I see a familiar face stepping up to receive a bulletin.

  “Holy shit!” I throw my arms around Bethany, her arms doing the same around my back. “What are you doing here?”

  I lose a few bulletins at her back, but fuck it, who cares, my best friend is here! She releases me from the hug and steps back with a huge smile. She looks better than I’ve ever seen her. Skin glowing, eyes shining—Jesse must be keeping her well-fed in orgasms.

  “I’m here for a few days, helping Ben out until he gets a new nanny.” She takes me in from my heeled combat boots to my fishnets and my black floral dress that’s a good few inches too short. She runs a hand down my hair, which I wore down and straight today, and smiles. “I missed you. You look amazing, by the way.”

  I wave her off. “Ah, this old thing…?”

  “I’m talking about you greeting!” Bethany acts excited, as if greeting is something I should be proud of. “Isn’t it great? Volunteering, giving back, feeling useful.”

  I don’t answer right away because, let’s be honest, I’m just standing here handing out pieces of paper that every single person who has passed me so far is fully capable of grabbing themselves. So no, I’m not feeling super useful.

  “It’s not like I’m delivering food to orphans, but yeah…I guess.” I have yet to see Ben, who is always the highlight of my Sunday, but I’m going to assume if Bethany is watching Elliot, then he’s probably here now.

  She flashes a sly grin. “Oh, orphans. Maybe that’s your next volunteer job!”

  “How long are you here for?” Please say you’re moving back for good. I clutch the bulletins.

  “As long as I need to be. Ben thinks he can find a new nanny in a few days.” She shrugs. “We’ll see. I will say I really love being back with Elliot.”

  “She’s a good kid.”

  Bethany’s eyebrows pinch together, and she sniffs a couple times. “Is that…” She sniffs again. “You smell like Kahlua.”

  I swear she has a nose like a shark. “Huh. Weird.”

  “Did you have a spiked coffee this morning?”

  “Welcome to church.” I shove a bulletin her way.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” she says dryly.

  “I don’t know what you’re taking about.” Okay, fine. I may have spiked my coffee a little to help really get me moving. And it worked! I’m here and awake, aren’t I?

  She ducks as if she’s only just realized she’s been holding up the doorway. The flow of traffic resumes.

  I say, “Welcome to church, Mrs. Bush.”

  The woman takes her bulletin with an awkward smile.

  “That’s Erin Watson,” Bethany whispers in my ear.

  “Huh. Looks like Laura Bush to me.”

  “Former First Lady Laura Bush?”

  “Yeah.”

  She laughs. “So rather than finding out people’s names, you just call them who they look like.”

  “Yeah.” I hand out another bulletin. “Remembering people’s names seems like a lot of work.”

  “Mrs. Watson should be easy. She’s Kathy Watson’s mom.”

  My upper lip peels back from my teeth. “Ugh, the spawn of Satan. Which would make her the devil so… that’s easy to remember. I’ll make sure to correct myself next time.”

  She sighs. “I wish I could correct you, but Kathy and her mom are very unpleasant if you’re on their bad side. They’ve always been nice to me, but I’ve seen how they act around people they feel threatened by.”

  I turn toward my friend, allowing people to filter in bulletinless behind me. “Kathy treats me like dog shit.”

  Bethany’s eyes go wide at my curse and she smiles apologetically to whoever walks in behind me. “Of course she does. Look at you.”

  I gather the stack of tri-folded papers to my chest and squint. “Explain.”

  “Simple. You’re everything she’s not but wishes she could be.”

  “I’m pretty sure she thinks I’m a slut. You’re saying she wishes she could be a slut?”

  “No. She wishes she could be free.”

  “Free?”

  “Ben is up there preaching the same message to a room full of people, and no two people digest spiritual things the same way. Some hear religion—a long list of rules and rituals. Others hear relationship—the act of receiving love and grace from our Father in heaven, the creator of the earth, and then extending that love and grace to others.”

  I snap my fingers and point at her. “Okay, that’s you. That second one is so you.”

  She smiles. “The other is Kathy and her mom. They have that list and they’re so focused on checking off those boxes, they’ve missed the entire point of Jesus’s ministry on this earth.”

  “So what you’re saying is she is a hideous bitch.”

  “Don’t take it too personally. She’s chained up. In bondage. I’ve never understood why people choose to live like that.”

  “Bondage can be fun with the right person and an effective safe word.” I smirk.

  Her arms come around me in a quick but tight hug. “I missed you.” She releases me with a laugh. “I’m going in. I’ll save you a seat up front.”

  * * *

  “Is it just me or are Ben’s pants tighter than usual?” I whisper to Bethany toward the end of Ben’s sermon. I haven’t been able to take my eyes off of his pants for the last thirty minute
s. They’re the same pants I’ve seen him wear before, but today they seem snug around his thighs and package.

  “Of course you would notice something like that,” she whispers with a grin.

  “Well? Are they?”

  “Jesiah said Ben’s been working out a lot.” She tilts her head, studying the pastor as he goes on and on about forgiveness. “Yeah, looks like he’s put on some muscle.”

  “In his dick?”

  Her eyes jump to mine. “Oh my gosh, stop looking at him there.”

  “Do you mind?” a woman says behind us. “Your whispering is very distracting.”

  “I’m sorry.” Bethany looks ahead, a nonverbal message for me to shut the hell up.

  I bite my lips, trying hard to do the same, but fail miserably. “You don’t think he’d stuff a sock in there, do you?”

  A snort rumbles in Bethany’s throat and she slowly shakes her head.

  “Huh,” I say, sitting back to enjoy what’s left of the view. “Must run in the family.”

  Her shoulders jump with silent laughter, which is strange because I can’t find a single funny thing about my questions, but whatever.

  Ben clutches his Bible and bows his head. I stare at his thick, dark hair—not quite black, but the color of strong, dark coffee. The sunlight from the windows above catch the chocolate strands, showing hints of dark burgundy within the combed-back locks. If only I could get the chance to run my fingers through it, mess up his perfection and leave it sticking out on all ends. He’d look hot disheveled. Baggy ripped jeans, no shoes, no shirt, hair hitting up all angles. Yeah, now that would be hot—

  “Church is over.” When I don’t move, Bethany pushes me out of the pew. “You have to go ungreet.”

  “Ungreet? That’s not even a thing.”

  “Say goodbye.” She gives up on shoving me and points at the back door, where half of the sanctuary is already filing out.

  “Oh. Too late.” Oh well. And if I do that, I won’t get to talk to Ben, who is currently standing with a couple at the front and looking as though he’s answering questions.