The Barnes Family Romances: (Books 1-3)

by Normandie Alleman

  “How is it?” he asked.

  When I finished swallowing I answered. “Oh, my God, this is delicious.” As soon as the word God left my lips I wondered if he would be upset. I mean technically I had just taken the Lord’s name in vain, which I knew from my limited religious training was a sin.

  “I promised you it was good. Stick with me, Chloe. I won’t steer you wrong.” The earnest way he looked at me told me he was talking about more than simply what to order off the menu.

  After we were finished eating I asked him the thing I was most curious about. “So how did you become a priest?”

  “I guess it started with me going to an Episcopalian boarding school when I was young.”

  “Boarding school?” You must have been one of those rich kids.”

  “Far from it. My mother worked on a ranch in Southern California where we lived, but as I got older she sent me away to school telling me I would get a better education that way. She did what she thought was best.”

  “How did she afford that?”

  “I had some sort of benefactor. Someone paid for my education. I always assumed it was the ranchers she worked for. They had a ton of money, and they were very kind that way.”

  “Lucky boy.”

  “True. Then my mother passed away while I was away at school and there was a couple there—he was the head of the school and he and his wife had never had any children. They kind of took me under their wing. I ate dinner with them, spent a lot of weekends with them, and stayed at their house during the summers. You might say they kind of became an unofficial adoptive family for me, more or less.”

  I smiled. I liked stories like that, those about people who made their own family when something happened to disrupt their original biological family.

  “And so you became a priest . . . ? ’Cause your surrogate father was one?”

  “Yeah. At first I wanted to be a basketball player, but I don’t think that’s what God wanted me to do because he stopped me growing at about six foot one. I was a bit directionless for a while. Went to college, had some fun, but when life got serious I decided to go into the seminary. And so that’s how I got here.”

  It felt like he had skipped over some important parts but I didn’t want to sound like I was giving him the third degree. “And so what’s it like, being a priest? I mean what do you do when you’re not preaching on Sundays?”

  “Well, we actually have services on Saturday late afternoon and on Wednesday morning. So sometimes I preside over those. But you’re right. Sunday is our big day.”

  The way his eyes crinkled up at their corners when he smiled made me feel warm inside.

  “Right, but what do you do on a Monday or Thursday?”

  He seemed pleased that I was interested in the mundane daily duties of a priest, and I was curious.

  “Well, I do coach a basketball team for the school, and I do a lot of paperwork, and of course I have to prepare my sermons. I run several Bible study groups during the week so I prepare for those as well, we have a thrift store, as well as a gift shop that I oversee. I also find that social media takes up a good bit of my time.”

  I almost choked on my food, and had to take several sips of soda to wash it down. After I stopped coughing, I asked, “Social media? You mean like Instagram?”

  “Yeah, that’s one of my worst ones. I’m not a very good photographer and I don’t understand all the filters and things you have to do to edit and add captions. But we have a Facebook page and a Twitter. I’m better at those.”

  “You really do all that?”

  “Of course. In this day and age that’s part of what you gotta do if you want people to come to your church.”

  “I never thought about that, but it probably is a good way to connect with people.”

  “Yeah, it’s not something they covered in seminary, but also I find that I connect with a lot of our parishioners that way and they like to know what’s going on. They want to know when the thrift store’s having a sale or when the basketball teams are playing, or the other sports that are happening for the kids. I give updates on our planning for mission trips and things like that.”

  “That’s so interesting,” I said, and I meant it.

  There was a comfortable silence between us and then a text went off on my phone.

  I intended to ignore it, but he said, “You can get that.”

  “No, it’s okay. But thank you. I’ve had a nice time, Reverend.”

  “Call me Eduardo,” he corrected me. “I’m glad you were willing to stay for dinner. I was so hungry, but I didn’t want you to think that I was trying to manipulate you into a longer date.”

  I shook my head. “No worries. Now I have a new favorite place to get chicken fried steak.”

  “Good. I really enjoyed this . . .”

  “Me too,” I said and hopped up out of my seat. Before he could ask me out again, I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks a bunch, but I gotta run.”

  He looked surprised and a little disappointed, which told me my instincts were right that I probably stopped him from inviting me on another date.

  He was cute, and the date had been fun, but I didn’t have time for socializing. I had things to do and I didn’t need to be distracted by a guy. If I kept seeing him, he’d get his feelings hurt that I didn’t have time for him. That always happened with guys when I had to work and couldn’t hang out.

  I hurried to the door and made my escape into the sticky New Orleans night.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Chloe

  I hummed to myself as I kneaded the dough for a French loaf. I always did that. Today it was my pitiful version of Chris Daughtry’s song “Home.” A pinch in my lower back caused me to stop what I was doing and rock back on my heels. It was Thursday, which for me was the way Monday was for most people: the beginning of my work week. As tired as I was, I was not looking forward to the raucous Mardi Gras crowd at Lulu’s over the next five days.

  Wiping my brow with the back of my hand, I was about to start rolling out the dough when I heard a familiar voice in the front of the bakery.

  “I’m so glad you could make it by.” I heard Mrs. Bain schmooze.

  The voice was male, and I couldn’t quite place who it was, but it had me curious. Wiping my hands across the front of my apron, I casually moved towards the door separating the kitchen from the storefront. As I passed by I peeked through a round window at the top.

  It was Eduardo.

  Good God, was the man stalking me?

  His appearance rattled me enough that I stopped in front of the window longer than I’d intended. Long enough for him to glance up, see me, and say to Mrs. Bain, “There she is. Do you mind if I have a word with Chloe?”

  “Certainly,” Mrs. Bain said brightly before turning to open the door and fetch me. She swung the door back so that it barely missed me, and hissed, “Make it quick. You’ve got a dozen loaves to get in the oven in the next ten minutes.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I answered, trying to remain polite when what I really wanted was to slam the door back in her face.

  Passing into the customer side of the shop, I realized how disheveled I probably was. There was likely flour in my hair and on my face, and my apron was always a mess. Untying the back and setting it aside, I stared at my unexpected visitor.

  “Hello. How may I help you this morning?” I spoke to him as if he were a stranger. Keeping a comfortable distance from customers was my specialty.”

  “I wanted to talk to you and you haven’t been answering my texts.”

  “Sorry. Dropped my phone in the toilet, and I can’t afford to get a new one right now.”

  “That sucks.”

  I didn’t expect language like that to come out of a priest’s mouth. But then, nothing about this man was what I expected.

  His intense dark eyes raked over me with a longing and desire that was familiar, yet different from the looks I usually got from men.

  He had a magnetis
m that threatened to draw me in, but I couldn’t find the time for dating right now. Not to mention the complications that would assuredly come from going out with a man whose first obligation was to a God I wasn’t sure I even believed in and a congregation that most certainly would not approve of me.

  “What can I do for you?” I repeated.

  He shifted from one foot to the other with more grace than was fair for a man to have. Come to think of it, his eyelashes were impossibly long too. Life wasn’t fair.

  “I wanted to ask you, if you have any time off, this weekend, if you’d like to go to a parade with me.”

  There was something so sweet in the old-fashioned way he was pursuing me that it stirred something inside me.

  He was like a little puppy standing there with his tongue hanging out of his mouth panting for my affection and I felt like a cold-hearted bitch to say no.

  These days most guys didn’t even take the time to court a girl. It was all about sex in the bathroom and hooking up and hell, they barely even could be bothered to give you an “I’ll call you later” before bolting never to be heard from again.

  “Sorry. I can’t.”

  “That’s okay,” he said, and if he was disappointed he did a good job hiding it. “I understand.”

  Maybe at a different point in my life, I wouldn’t have declined his invitation. He seemed like a good guy, and he would make someone a wonderful husband. But that someone was not me.

  The family, children, husband—that was not my dream. I know most girls my age would’ve killed for that, but I had different dreams and I was so close to making them a reality that I couldn’t afford to get distracted now.

  Mrs. Bain returned from the back. “What can we get for you today, Father?”

  I wanted to say something, but I was afraid we would both be in trouble if Mrs. Bain knew he came here only to ask me out, and I couldn’t think of anything on the spot.

  “I’d like to order a pastry tray for Ash Wednesday if that would be possible,” Eduardo said to Mrs. Bain who lit up at the word “tray.” More pastries meant more money, and it was obvious she was pleased he wasn’t just stopping in for a loaf of bread.

  “Let me just get an order pad and I will take care of it,” Mrs. Bain said fishing under counter.

  With a smile that would have charmed the devil himself, Eduardo asked, “Could Chloe possibly take my order? I’m a big fan of hers.”

  Mrs. Bain stood there with her mouth open for a minute before she swallowed hard and handed me the order pad and a pen. “Of course,” she said and disappeared into the back.

  I giggled. “I don’t think she liked that very much.”

  He shrugged. “That’s okay. What pastries do you recommend?”

  “Muffins and croissants are always good. Maybe some Danish. When will you be serving them again? And for how many people?”

  “It’s for a special coffee service after the Ash Wednesday morning service. I’m not sure how many people, but I guess we should plan for fifty?”

  I nodded. “You’d rather have more than run out so estimate on the higher side and you can always have leftovers.”

  He patted his stomach “That’s the last thing I need. You’ll be adding some extra miles to my run.”

  I smiled imagining him running, and I couldn’t help myself but wonder what his body was like underneath his conservative clothing. I mean, he’d seen mine . . .

  “Do you ever go to church?”

  What a buzzkill. Instantly my thoughts about his naked body vanished. “Not really.”

  “Well, if you ever feel like going we’d love to have you at St. John’s.”

  “Thanks.”

  I finished up the order form and let him know he could pick it up on Wednesday morning or Tuesday afternoon if he preferred. He chose Wednesday, and I wondered whether he would pay for it himself or if he had a business account from the church that he used.

  These days I was constantly thinking about business matters since I was planning on starting a business of my own soon. After the order was completed he seemed hesitant to go, but he thanked me and on his way out the door he gave me what had to be the sexiest wink I’d ever seen. The man’s charms rivaled Clark Gable when he played Rhett Butler in Gone with the Wind, and I felt a little zip of excitement despite myself.

  But I didn’t have long to think about it before Mrs. Bain burst through the back door. “Come on, get back to work.”

  Without saying a word I picked up my apron, put it back on and made my way back to the dough that was waiting for me.

  Mrs. Bain followed me, squawking all the way. “I’m not sure what you have going on that a priest is coming here showing interest in you. But I don’t like it.”

  I wanted to tell her it was none of her business, to leave me the hell alone, but I also wanted to keep my job and that was more important than defending myself to her.

  “Are you dating that priest?” she asked incredulously.

  I shook my head. “I had coffee with him once, that’s all.”

  Mrs. Bain looked dismayed. “Chloe, you cannot encourage that man.”

  “I’m not,” I said, rolling out the dough in front of me lengthwise.

  “Honestly, he must have gone down a wrong path. He must not know you are a stripper.”

  My face burned. I was more than just a stripper. Why didn’t she ever see that?

  “He knows I’m a stripper!”

  Mrs. Bain’s face was aghast. “All the more reason why you should not encourage him. You do not want it on your conscience, corrupting a man of God.”

  “I’m not.” After that I buried my head and focused on my work.

  I was done humming for the day.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Eduardo

  The intercom buzzed.

  After Crawford came in the other day and laid down his gauntlet of doom, I found myself a little apprehensive when it came to unscheduled visits to my office.

  Currently, I was in the middle of trying to pull together every receipt I could find to help clear my name against Crawford’s bogus charges of fraud or embezzling or whatever he was implying.

  A break might be just what I needed so I pressed the button. “Yes, Kay?”

  “Um, you’re not going to believe this.” Her voice sounded shaky. “There are some people out here with cameras who want to talk to you. They say the first thing we need to do is have you sign a release so that they can film you for their TV show.”

  A sense of dread crept up my throat. Surely, I was too small a target for one of those 60-minutes type shows no matter how powerful Crawford Banks was. No matter how badly he thought I’d screwed up. “You’re kidding me. What show?”

  Nothing in the world could have prepared me for her answer.

  “The Barnes Bunch.”

  The Barnes Bunch . . . The Barnes Bunch . . . Why did this ring a bell?

  I didn’t watch much television, and when I did it was generally sports, a nature show, or a history channel documentary.

  Then it came to me. The Barnes Bunch was something of a reality show. The players, or Barnes family members, often graced the covers of magazines I’d seen in the checkout at the grocery store.

  I’d never read anything about them beyond the headlines, but you’d have to be blind not to have seen their pictures splashed all over the tabloids. Most recently the dark-haired attractive sister had been in some sort of trouble but I couldn’t remember what.

  Pressing the button I spoke into the intercom. “Tell them I will be with them in a minute and Kay, could you please come in here now?”

  “Not a problem. Be right there.”

  A second later, Kay opened the door a hair, squeezed through then closed it behind her. Her eyes were as big as saucers and her hands shook. “Oh, my gosh, I can’t believe Lucinda Barnes is standing in our reception area.”

  I shook my head. “What is this show and what the heck is happening? Why are they here?”

  “I
asked, but they wouldn’t say.”

  “Okay, but what is the show about?”

  “They’re the most famous family in America. They’re the closest thing we have to royalty.”

  This made me cringe. The notion that reality TV stars were the best we had to offer in America made me slightly nauseous.

  “I mean, their daddy Ziggy Barnes was a big star. He got killed in a plane crash when the kids were little.”

  I nodded, encouraging her to keep talking.

  “Dynassy is an international model. All she has to do is post a video on YouTube and in seconds she’ll get a million views.”

  “Is that right?”

  Kay nodded. “The older brother is a basketball player.”

  “Okay.”

  Kay continued, “But he doesn’t like to be on the show that much. It’s really the twins who are the big stars.

  “Ivy and Leo. She’s an incredible performer, and he’s the best musician. Everybody’s always talking about how he inherited Ziggy’s genius. And their mom, Lucinda—the one who’s outside this door—she’s their manager, the show is really based on her life with the kids.”

  “So, what does this have to do with me? Why is she here?”

  “I tried to find out but they wouldn’t tell me. They insisted she had to tell you herself. They’re not real happy we said no to the cameras.”

  “But that’s ridiculous. I have no reason to be on a show when I have no idea what is going on, or who these people are, or what they want with me.”

  Kay shrugged. “Fair enough. I don’t blame you.”

  I’d stalled enough and now, as I headed for the door, I just wanted to find out what in the world this visit was about.

  I opened the door and ushered Kay through it.

  “Hello,” I said to the array of people standing around my office.

  “Eduardo!” An attractive woman with short dark hair came towards me, arms outstretched as if she intended on hugging me.

  I stepped back. “Yes?”

  Noticing my reticence, she dropped her arms to her side. “I’m Lucinda Barnes, and we need to talk.”