Priest (A Standalone Bad Boy Romance Love Story) Read online

  “Okay,” she says and pulls up a stool. “What do you want to know?”

  It’s only just occurring to me that she’s under no obligation to tell me the truth here. How am I supposed to believe anything she says?

  “Kate?” Desi asks. “What’s on your mind?”

  “Are you sleeping together?”

  She laughs. “Well, you just come right out with it, don’t you?” she asks. “No, Eli and I don’t have that kind of relationship. We were an item for a while a few years back, but I hadn’t even seen him until his friend Mick brought him in here a little while ago.”

  “Why should I believe you?”

  She shrugs. “There’s nothing I can say that’ll convince you.” The fact that it’s a statement and not a question throws me for a second.

  “Probably not,” I tell her. “I’d hope, though, that one of you would have the decency to just be upfront with me about it.”

  “Can I tell you something?”

  “Would anything I say stop you?”

  “Probably not, because this is something you really need to hear,” she tells me.

  “Then I guess you can,” I tell her.

  Desi gets the bartender’s attention and orders some water before continuing.

  “When I first spotted Eli, I didn’t know how to feel,” she says. “It had been so long… I missed him. I guess I didn’t realize just how much until he was right there. I don’t know how much he’s told you about our past relationship, but for a while there, I thought Eli was going to be the one.”

  My upper lip twitches on one side, but I don’t interrupt.

  “I don’t know, when I came down and started talking to him, I thought maybe this was our big chance to get back together. There was just one problem,” she says.

  “What’s that?” I seethe.

  “He wouldn’t shut up about you,” she says. “Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever heard him go off so much about any topic other than racing.”

  “And what, is that supposed to make me feel better?”

  “It should,” she says. “It’s the truth, after all. I don’t even think he was aware, but that night when he came in and you had your first race coming up-”

  “How do you know what I look like?” I ask.

  She blinks. “I’m sorry?”

  “You spotted me after I’d only been in here for a minute or two,” I tell her.

  “He showed me your picture. Actually, he showed me a lot of pictures of you. To be frank, it was a little off-putting that he went on with it so long,” she explains. “Why? How did you think I knew?”

  “Well, I haven’t seen any pictures of you,” I answer.

  “Nah,” she says with a wave of her hand. “He’s not interested in me the way he’s interested in you. It really is ancient history to him.”

  “Not to you, though,” I observe.

  “No,” she says, “not to me. Please don’t misunderstand me,” she continues. “I have no interest in making things harder for the two of you, but Eli was kind of the guy for a long time. That can be a hard thing to let go.”

  “So I’m just supposed to trust that you’re never going to act on these feelings?” I ask. “I’m supposed to trust that you haven’t already?”

  “Mind if we talk about this where we’ve got a bit more privacy?” she asks, leaning in close. “I’ll cover the cost of the champagne room. I just can’t sit and chat with friends on the job.”

  “Oh, you were so close,” I tell her.

  “What?” she asks, pulling away, blinking. She blinks a lot.

  “Is that where you take Eli when the two of you want to ‘talk?’” I ask. “It sounds like he’s been in here more than a couple of times.”

  “No,” she says. “As long as it looks like I’m flirting, there’s not a problem as that’s a pretty big part of my job.”

  “You’re doing a great job of fixing one problem by causing a bigger one,” I tell her. “Yeah, I’ll go back to the champagne room with you as long as you’re paying and you don’t have a legion of stripper friends in the back ready to tear me to shreds.”

  Desi furrows her brow, but a second later, she’s laughing.

  “Wow,” she says. “I’ve really got an uphill battle here, don’t I?”

  “I think that’s a fair assessment,” I tell her.

  Desi glances around and then reaches into her bikini top, pulling a fifty from beneath the fabric. She folds the bill, slips it between two of her fingers and gives it to me like we’re shaking hands.

  “All right, baby,” she says loudly, “let’s go!”

  Desi takes my hand and leads me into a back room that looks remarkably like Dante’s second circle of hell. She guides us through a set of black curtains into a small, semi-private space with a recliner and an end table.

  “We can talk in here,” she says, “but we’ll have to keep it a little quiet. If they think I’m not defiling myself in here for your entertainment, it could go bad for me.”

  “That’d be a real shame,” I mutter.

  “Listen,” she says, “I know that you’re angry, and I know right now that anger is directed at me, but there really is nothing going on between Eli and me.”

  “If that’s the case, you wouldn’t mind if I asked you to stop seeing him,” I retort.

  Desi sighs. “If that’s what it’s going to take for you to start believing us, then I guess I’d have no choice,” she says.

  “You sound pretty disappointed about that,” I point out.

  She shakes her head, saying, “Eli and I were very close once. I was hoping we could be again. It’s not worth it if all our friendship is going to do is hurt people.”

  “Why are you pretending to go along with everything I say?” I ask. “Is that your plan to get me out of here?”

  “I’m not pretending anything,” she says. “Actually, I think I’ve given you a lot more than polite honesty. I think I’ve been a pretty good sport up until now.”

  “And now’s when that’s going to change?” I ask.

  “Look, if you don’t trust Eli, why are you even with him? You came down here for answers, and I’ve told you everything you wanted to know. My answers may not have been what you wanted to hear, but I haven’t been evasive, I haven’t tried to sugarcoat anything. I can understand why the idea of us spending any time with each other at all could make you a bit uncomfortable, but even if I were to never see each other again, who’s to say he won’t make friends with another woman?”

  “I’d settle for someone he never slept with,” I fire back.

  “I could sit here and lie to you and say that never happened with him and I, but we’re both going to have to settle for the truth, instead,” she says.

  “Let’s do that,” I tell her.

  “The truth is that Eli and I were together for a long time and we were very close. It’s also the truth that he is not even remotely interested in me anymore as anything but a friend. I’d offer to just stop seeing him, but I don’t think that’s really going to change anything, is it?”

  “Probably not,” I tell her.

  “Okay then,” she says, “then let me give you a piece of advice.”

  “I can’t wait,” I yawn.

  “Don’t waste your life being jealous of what you have,” she says.

  I furrow my brow. “What does that even mean?” I ask.

  “You’re acting like you’re on the verge of losing him, but what you’re not allowing yourself to see is that he’s more committed to you right now than you even know,” she says. “You’re acting like I’ve somehow stolen that from you, but I couldn’t do that if I wanted to. Eli’s not mine,” she says. “For what it’s worth, if you want me to stop talking to him, I will. I’d much rather be a little miserable myself than be the reason he is. Until you accept that you’re worthy of the kind of love that he feels for you, it’s never going to seem real. As long as you continue to believe that this person who seriously will not shut up
about how much he cares about you is only out for his own sick gratification, you’ll never experience the joy that comes from being on the receiving end of that kind of affection.”

  “What did you just say?”

  Desi shrugs. “Which part?” she asks. “Where did I lose you?”

  “Love,” I tell her.

  “Yeah,” she says, “I hate to be the one to tell you, but he’s been trying to figure out the best way to tell you for a while now.”

  “He actually said that word, though?”

  Desi nods. “Repeatedly,” she says. “Did you really think he was only into you because you’ve hopped on the racing bandwagon?”

  “It still all comes back to the same question, though,” I tell her. “How can I believe you?”

  “There’s nothing I can say that’ll make you,” she says. “I guess what it comes down to is whether or not you believe him. Maybe he hasn’t said the words, but can you honestly tell me that you’re surprised to hear it? The last time he was in here, he was talking about how he’s been looking to sell that old beater of his. Do you have any idea how long and hard I tried to get him to give that stupid thing up? I don’t even know why he still hangs onto it.”

  My phone buzzes in my pocket.

  “Wait, he said he’s going to get rid of the car?” I ask.

  “Yeah,” she says. “I was just as surprised as you. He loves that thing for some ridiculous reason.”

  I take my phone out of my pocket and check the message. It’s from Eli. It reads, “Hey, I’m at the club. I really think the three of us should talk. I want you to know you can trust me.”

  “Looks like he’s here,” I tell Desi.

  I’m walking out of the back room before she can say anything.

  When I get back to the club proper, it doesn’t take long to spot Eli. He’s leaned over the counter at the bar, talking to the bartender.

  I walk up behind Eli and tap him on the shoulder. He turns around.

  “Kate,” he says. “I know this doesn’t look good, but if you want me to stop talking to-”

  He stops as I throw my arms around him. I give him a quick peck on the lips, asking, “Is it true that you’re looking into selling the Galaxie?”

  Wow, that’s a weird question out of context.

  He gives me a crooked smile. “Already found a buyer.”

  I give him another squeeze and another kiss.

  “Kate, I don’t want to be with anyone else,” he says. “I don’t care about anyone else. I just want to be with you.”

  “I am still pretty pissed about one thing,” I tell him as I rest my head against his shoulder.

  “What’s that?” he asks.

  “You didn’t introduce us,” I tell him, “Desi and me. I think the two of us would really get along.”

  Chapter Twenty

  The Oval

  Eli

  “So, tell me more about this track,” Kate says from the passenger’s seat of the flatbed.

  “Well,” I say as I make the turn into the parking lot of the track, “it’s old. The asphalt’s not too degraded, but there are some rough patches.”

  Jerry, the guy who owns the place, keeps it closed to the public for the most part, but every once in a while, I manage to talk him into letting me run around the thing for an hour or two. After all the stress and tension of the last few weeks, Kate and I could both use a break like this.

  “But this is totally legal?” she asks. “We’re not going to have to negotiate police road blocks while we’re driving around or anything like that, right?”

  “Yeah,” I tell her, “Jerry owns the place. He’ll make us sign a liability release form before he’ll let us onto the track, but it’s perfectly legal.”

  “That’ll be a pleasant change.”

  I pull up next to Jerry’s trailer—he calls it his office—and we get out of the flatbed.

  Jerry comes out, carrying a clipboard, saying, “You both know the rules, right?”

  “Yeah,” I answer as Kate nods. “Don’t screw up your track and if we get into a crash and die, we can’t come back from the grave to sue you.”

  “Good enough,” he says. “Now if I can just get you both to sign here…”

  He holds out the clipboard. Kate signs first, then I do.

  “Great,” he says and we follow him over to the gate to the track, which he opens. “Have fun.”

  Before heading back to unload the Chevelle, Kate and I take a few steps onto the grounds to get a better look at the track. There aren’t any potholes, exactly, but the pavement is pockmarked at the very least.

  “How bad is it going to be?” she asks.

  “You’ll need to go a bit slower than you otherwise would,” I answer, “but as long as you stay toward the inside of the track, you should be all right.”

  “All right,” she says, “but you’re doing the first ten laps.”

  We get back to the flatbed and unload the Chevelle as the sun reaches its peak in the sky. Getting behind the wheel, I fire up the car, and once Kate’s in and has her harness all cinched up, I slowly pull through the gate and onto the track beyond.

  “Do you have a preference on direction?” I ask.

  “Not really,” she answers, and without waiting for another second to pass, I hit the gas.

  I take a right, the back end of the Chevelle drifting out behind me, and Kate’s howling with cheers and laughter as I slow for the first turn.

  Ovals have never been my thing, but it is nice to not have to worry about the fuzz stopping the show. Besides, Kate’s clearly enjoying herself.

  Before I’m even done with my first lap, she’s shouting over the sound of the engine, “I’m ready if you are!”

  I smile.

  I love this woman. One of these days—probably after the recent strain on our relationship has had a chance to fade a bit—I should probably mention that to her.

  Coming to a stop, I put the Chevelle in neutral and undo my harness. Kate and I get out and switch places. I’m barely strapped in when she takes off.

  We get up to about a hundred before she comes to the first long turn, and she slows down a bit too much.

  “You can usually keep it around one-twenty around these bends,” I tell her. “But just keep doing what you’re doing and feel it out before you-”

  Her foot comes down hard on the gas and we’re back in the triple digits well before the end of the turn.

  “I want to try nitrous,” she declares as we reach the next straight.

  “Your best bet is the dentist’s office,” I tease.

  She glances over at me and then back at the track ahead. “You know, you’re a very handsome and charming man, but we really need to work on the jokes,” she says. “It’s undoing all the hard work your car is doing for you.”

  “Give it at least a few more laps,” I tell her. “Hold off until you’re used to the surface.”

  “What’s it going to be like when I hit it?”

  “It’s going to be like you’ve got a rocket engine in the trunk for the first couple of seconds,” I tell her. “Those are going to be very important seconds, because that’s when things with nitrous usually go wrong.”

  Kate follows my advice and runs a few more times around the ragged oval, finding the right speed, getting used to the longer, more gradual curves.

  Finally, when she starts her tenth lap, I tell her, “All right, when we get to this next straight, get the car stabilized along its trajectory and, if you’re ready, go ahead and hit the nitrous.”

  Kate bites the inside of her cheek and nods. She takes the curve a bit more conservatively than she has been, and once we’re back on a straight, she moves her thumb to settle over the button. Her hand is shaking.

  I say, “If you’re not ready, you don’t have to-”

  Then my head is being forced backward against the headrest of my seat, and I’m watching the needle of the speedometer make its rapid climb as the nitrous propels us.

&nb
sp; “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Kate is shouting, though her lips are pulled back in a huge grin.

  She’s a bit hard on the brake coming into the next turn, but she handles it.

  We’re both laughing as she starts to slow the car even further.

  I look over at the gorgeous woman in the seat next to me, and even with all the misunderstandings and the silly mistakes we’ve made with each other, I wouldn’t rather be anywhere else with anyone else.

  “Is that Jerry?” Kate asks.

  I turn my head to look back out the windshield. There’s a car sitting at the entrance of the track with its lights on.

  “I don’t know,” I tell her. “I don’t think Jerry drives anymore, though.”

  “Could I talk you into letting me race them over a couple of laps before I hand this thing back to you?” she asks.

  Before I get a chance to answer, the car—an SRT Viper—peels out and starts charging toward us.

  “Kate, get off the track,” I tell her.

  “What?” she asks. “Why? I can take this clown.”

  She maintains her speed, allowing the Viper to catch up, and it’s revving its engine as it pulls up alongside us.

  “I’m racing him,” Kate says and the car jerks a little as she downshifts and hits the gas.

  The Viper falls back at first, but as we come into the next turn, it catches up easily enough.

  “I don’t know who that is,” I tell her. “I do know they’re not supposed to be here, though.”

  “Aw, come on,” she says. “Live a little.”

  In the next moment, though, the Viper’s on our inside, and they’re edging us toward the outside wall.

  Kate tries to speed up, but the Viper keeps pace. She tries to slow down to let the Viper pass, but it holds tight. Finally, when there are no more than a couple of feet between us and the outside wall, she slams on the brakes.

  The Viper cruises past, but Kate loses control as the back end comes out and she’s jerking the wheel wildly, just trying to stay away from the wall as we go into a full spin.

  We finally come to a stop on the dirt interior of the track, facing the opposite direction and we’re both breathing heavily.