Page 3 of Dark Side of the Cloth

She instantly started calculating the space upstairs for viewing and service and knew there was simply not enough space for that many people. It would be helpful if a tent could be added outside, but adding outdoor space would be impossible considering the cold snap and the snow.

“Oh Dean, I don’t know if I can accommodate that. I mean, even the smallest family in town would have twenty-five people per family, then times that by three…”

Dean rose from the chair. Stepping in close to her, he used the same hand he’d wiped the chair with to stroke her cheek. She had the strongest urge to turn her head and suck those fingers into her mouth. His towering frame cast a shadow over her, and she could have sworn his eyes lingered on the pounding pulse in her neck.

“I have faith in you, Yasmine. You always find a way, and I know that during these despairing times, you will prevail once more.” Dean tucked a loose piece of hair from her messy bun behind her ear, and she had to stop herself from leaning into the innocent contact.

“I think you flatter me too much.” Her voice came out as a harsh whisper.

“How many funerals have I been here for in the last year? Fifty at least? You’ve always gone above and beyond and made any possible issue work. I don’t flatter you with falsehoods.”

Yasmine’s cheeks flamed red as she cleared her tight throat. “Yes, yes, of course, you’re right. These people deserve the best. I’ll see what I can do.”

She needed something to do with her hands, so she pulled off her glasses, gently blowing on them and cleaning them with her shirt.

Dean watched her, reminding her of a cat watching its prey.

“I knew I could count on you, Yasmine.” Leaning down, Dean gently touched his lips to her forehead. “I do hope to see you at service soon.”

Her heart ceased working altogether and didn’t begin beating again until the door was closed behind the all too heavenly Father. She was going to burn in hell, and there was no way around it.

Dean made his way up the stairs and adjusted himself before he stepped outside. It wouldn’t do for anyone out on the street to see he was sporting a hard-on. It didn’t seem to matter why he needed to speak to the beautiful Yasmine because all he could think about when he was around her was getting between her legs. Today had been exceptionally difficult. He could have sworn he smelled the alluring scent of sex, and the image of laying her out on that metal table she used to prepare the dead was vivid in his mind. Morbid and yet so hot.

Fuck he needed to refocus. He yanked open the rusting BMW’s door and slipped behind the wheel. The motor of the older car groaned and sputtered as it tried to turn over, finally giving way and firing to life. Dean waved to a few people, plastering his ‘I’m a wonderful priest and love you all’ smile on his face as he drove down the street towards the church.

As he pulled into the church’s parking lot, he noticed a man standing on the top step. He enthusiastically waved at Dean.

“Shit,” Dean grumbled. He really didn’t want to have another useless heart to heart with one of the local parishioners today. The man was already walking toward his car before Dean had it backed into the designated space. Sucking in a deep breath, he smiled and stepped out of the car.

“Father, I’m sorry to bother you, but I was hoping I could speak to you privately.” The man twisted his hat in his hands, his eyes darting from side to side.

Dean was all too aware of the many signs people gave when they felt guilty. Maybe this wouldn’t be as horrible as he thought it would. He could use a new victim. “Of course, my child, come on inside out of the cold.”

“My name is Tim.”

Dean really didn’t give a shit what the man’s name was but nodded as he held open the large wooden door to the church. “Tim, why don’t you have a seat in the confessional. I will hang up my jacket and be right there.”

“Thank you, Father.”

Dean shook off the thin layer of damp snow, rubbing his hair and watching the droplets fly. He loved winter. He hadn’t seen snow as a child, and when he joined the Army, he was stationed in the hottest fucking hell hole they could find. Now that he was in a place that did get snow, he was in love with the cold and white precipitation.

Reaching into the long robe, he pulled out his special little black book and a pen, just in case this ended up being a good one. He pulled the heavy, velvet curtain closed and made himself comfortable.

“You may begin.”

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been three years since my last confession.”

“That is okay, my son. Tell me what you would like to confess. God is here to forgive you.”

“I have had impure thoughts,” Tim said and then fell silent.

“It is fine, my son. You may continue. This is a safe place.” Dean rolled his eyes but sat up straight as Tim spoke again.

“My impure thoughts are hard to control, I…I touched a little girl again.”

A wicked smile spread across Dean’s face. “Please continue.”

“I have always had a hard time around little girls. I have tried to be good, I really have, but a friend of mine that I hadn’t seen in a long time came to visit, and he brought his daughter with him. She was so beautiful, so perfect with her cherub features and pigtails that had these little bobbles in them. She ran over to me and…I just couldn’t stop myself.”