Sinned
by
Veronica Daye
About Sinned
“It’s only you and me here tonight. Tonight I am just a man, not a priest”
*** This Limited Time Special Edition version of Sinned includes both of Veronica Daye’s stepbrother romance novels--Stepbrother Bad Boy and Tease. THREE standalone romances in one! ***
I thought my days of temptation were over when I took my vows of celibacy and obedience. I was wrong.
Six years ago I met Ava and the man in me wanted to savor every look, touch, and taste of her. And I did. But I am not just a man, I am a priest.
This is my confession.
This is a complete standalone romance told from both points of view. No cliffhanger.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
One
Six Years Ago
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Six Years Later
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Epilogue
About the Author
BONUS -- Stepbrother Bad Boy
BONUS -- Tease
Sinned
Copyright © 2015 by Veronica Daye and Flirt Publishing/A Division of Jaded Speck Publishing LLC
Cover Design by CT Cover Creations
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews.
~ One ~
Ava
A gust of wind ripped down the street, carrying debris that stung my skin and whipped my long dark hair across my face. I hadn’t expected a cool, windy day in July. Especially not with how hot summers in New Jersey usually were.
After all this time I couldn’t believe I was just across the street from him. I looked up at the tall steeple that cast a large shadow along the block. Above the center set of doors was a wide stone with Sacred Heart Church etched on it.
This is it, I thought. This is where the love of my life has been for the past six years.
I groaned at myself for using such a sappy phrase. It wasn’t like me to think like that. Sappy was the last thing anyone would use to describe me. But whenever I thought about Charlie, those words came to mind.
Charlie McArthur changed my life. I owed the past six years to him and every day I loved him more for it. He didn’t know it though. He left me years ago for this church. I could have tried fighting it. I could have convinced him to stay, but I let him go.
I wasn’t sure what to expect once I found the place. I only knew I didn’t have a choice in the matter. I made my decision and I was sticking with it. No matter how nervous I was, nothing would change my mind.
As I looked at the tall red stone building and wondered if he was inside, that sappy phrase popped into my head again, but this time it taunted me.
The love of my life is a priest.
A gusty wind sent chills through my body. I rubbed my arms wishing I had more on than a thin short sleeved t-shirt and a skirt as I tried to warm up. Behind me was a small cafe that looked like a good place to think.
The bell over the coffee shop door chimed as I walked in. It was a small place in an old building with a few empty tables and a long green formica counter. It was quaint with homey decor that probably hadn’t been changed in thirty years. I ordered hot water as I looked over their tea selection.
“You don’t look like you’re from around here,” the woman behind the counter said.
She had smooth dark skin, curly grey hair, and the kindest eyes I had ever seen.
“No, I’m not,” I said. “I’m just visiting.”
“Where are you from?”
From everywhere and no where used to be my stock answer. I lived for traveling and new places. In the thirty years of my life I never stayed anywhere for long. For a moment I almost said that, but then I realized how wrong it was now.
“Southern California,” I said.
“Ahh,” she said nodding. “I knew it. Is this your first time to Jersey?”
“Actually no, it isn’t. I lived here once, a long time ago. I’ve lived in a lot of places.”
I took my tea and sat down at a table near the bay window facing the church. As I took my first sip, the woman walked over with an oversized piece of coffee cake.
“You look like you need this,” she said. “I even brought you some of my homemade apple butter. Just spread it on and you’ll swear you’ve gone to Heaven. If you need anything, just call for me. I’m Evelyn.”
She set the plate down in front of me and turned to walk away. I couldn’t explain why, but I stopped her.
“Evelyn, wait,” I said. “There’s no one else here, why don’t you sit with me?”
With her head tilted to the side, she gave me a long look.
“You sure?” she asked.
“Yes, and bring an extra fork. This piece is big enough to share.”
Once she was seated across from me, I slid the cake to the middle of the table.
“I’m Ava,” I said.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ava. Now if you don’t mind my asking, what brings you here? As you can see we don’t get many visitors in this part of town.”
I nodded as I realized Evelyn was the only person I had seen since I parked my car. There weren’t any people on the streets and for a city it was strangely quiet. Even most of the buildings looked like they had been abandoned.
“I…I…,” I stammered as I looked at the church across the street. I turned back and looked at Evelyn with her gentle expression and couldn’t stop myself from talking.
“Has there ever been that one person you just couldn't shake?” I asked as she met my gaze and nodded. “For me that was Charlie. It didn't matter how much time had gone by I couldn't stop thinking about him. He was that guy who made all that bullshit in romance novels make sense. And trust me, I know, I'm addicted to those books.”
“Oh, honey,” she said with a smile. “Aren’t we all? But go on.”
“He was tall, dark, and handsome and the hottest guy I ever saw, but it wasn’t just his looks there was more to him. Much more. Just how he looked at me with his pale blue eyes, or the way he said my name ‘Ava’ as if it was part of his breathing.” I closed my eyes and imagined his husky voice speaking my name. “Even how he'd cock his head to the side whenever he was thinking. Everything he did just hit me where it counts, you know?”
Evelyn nodded as she spread the apple butter over the coffee cake.
“I can’t believe I’m telling you all of this,” I said as I shook my head. “I don’t usually talk this much.”
“It’s my gift,” she said with a shrug. “We all have that special something. Mine is that people open up to me and I help them with their troubles. And I can see that you’re troubled. I noticed it when you were standing outside.”
“I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”
“Well, I know you didn’t ask for my advice, just like you didn’t ask for this cake, but trust me, you’re getting them both.” She slid the cake closer to me. “I’ve lived a long time and I’ve seen a lot of things. And the most important thing that I learned is that life is short. You don’t want to have c
ome all this way and regret anything, do you?”
I shook my head as I stuffed a forkful of cake into my mouth. The cinnamon and the apple played together perfectly. The cake was moist and fluffy. She was right about it being heavenly. I suspected Evelyn was right about most things.
“Then go across that street and find him,” she said. “Life is much too short to be away from the man you love. Even if he is a priest.”
How did she know?
As I stared at her, she stood from the chair and patted my back. She pointed out the window and I turned to look. A tall , dark haired priest dressed in his robes with a purple stole quickly went up the steps and entered the church. I recognized Charlie immediately. I looked back at Evelyn and she squeezed my cheeks.
“Eat your cake and then go,” she said. “Time waits for no one.”
Within minutes I was standing on the sidewalk facing the church again.
This is why I’m here. Why aren’t my feet moving? What if he doesn’t remember me? What if he doesn’t feel the same way? For god’s sake, he’s a priest.
I swallowed hard and pushed the thoughts away. I had to see him. I didn’t have a choice.
As I crossed the street, the wind whipped through my hair, blinding me for a moment. I walked quicker, trying to get away from the wind and as I reached the first of the stone steps, the wind stopped.
A sign pointed me to the rear of the church. Just the word alone made my hands tremble. Confession. It wasn’t what I was there for, but if it meant talking to him, I would do it.
I walked past the altar and genuflected like I had been taught as a child before walking up the aisle. The number of statues along the wall caught me off guard. They were large, life-sized, and while many children were afraid of clowns, my childhood fear was these statues. I quickened my pace to get past them.
My shoes echoed on the slippery floor as I continued up the aisle, reminding me that I was alone. Up ahead was an old fashioned confessional with it’s dark, carved wood door open and waiting. The further I continued, the more my heart raced.
I closed the door behind me as I entered and sat in the corner of the booth, facing the kneeler and the closed screen. As the window slid open, I saw Charlie’s shadowed profile and I let out a long sigh, happy to see him.
He cleared his throat and it hit me where I was. What was I going to say? I had been so busy pushing myself to get to his church, that I didn’t have anything planned. As I opened my mouth, I was surprised by the words that came out.
“Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It has been...” I hesitated. “I don’t know how long it’s been.”
Charlie shifted in his seat and cleared his throat again. I couldn’t see his profile anymore, the screen was dark, but I knew he was still there. I waited to see if he would say something, but I didn’t expect him to. I knew how confession worked and I didn’t think he would recognize my voice after all this time.
“I met a man six years ago and...and I’ve never forgotten him,” I said.
A door banged and I stared with confusion at the light streaming in through the screen. He was gone. My door swung open and I jerked back to face it. Father Charles blocked the entrance.
My heart jumped in my chest and my breath grew shallow as I stared at the pale blue eyes I thought I would never see again.
“Ava,” he said, his voice husky and low.
I rose to my feet as he stepped forward. His hands cupped my face hungrily as his lips closed over mine.
Six Years Ago
~ Two ~
Charles
I glanced at the clock on the wall as Erica Miller, a thin, beautiful red head sashayed into the office. She was one of the newer parishioners at St. Peter’s, but had spoken to me several times after mass. There were only fifteen minutes left to my regularly scheduled confession hours. I always stayed late if I needed to, but I could tell Erica had something else on her mind.
Erica smiled as she sat down in the seat facing mine. She had on a short skirt, high heels, and a tight green blouse with a low neckline.
“Hello, Erica,” I said as I made myself comfortable in my chair.
“Hello, Father McArthur,” she said as she looked around the sparsely furnished office. “This reminds me more of therapy than what I thought confession would be like. Where’s the box?”
“Box? You mean the confessional? Most people don’t like using it, but we still have weekly hours for it. The face-to-face penance is more common now and is a lot like therapy in some ways. I like to call it spiritual therapy. But if you’d prefer the confessional, we can move there.”
“No, no. I like being able to see you. And no one will bother us?” she asked as she nervously turned to look at the closed door.
I tried to cover the confusion in my face, but she must have noticed it. Her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed.
“I mean, I can tell you anything and it stays between us, right?”
“Of course,” I said. “Anything you say here will be in confidence, like any rite of penance.”
She took a deep breath as she looked down at the carpet, then flicked her eyes back up at me.
“Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It has been five years since my last confession,” she said.
I nodded, making sure to keep my face passive. While I had only been a priest for a year, my background in psychology gave me the experience to administer the sacrament of reconciliation.
“I think I’m addicted to sex,” Erica said with a half smile. “I just can’t get enough of it.”
No pun intended, but I knew she was trying to get a rise out of me. She wasn’t the first and I knew she wouldn’t be the last. Father Liam and I often discussed how the forbidden or taboo made some people want to push the limits even more. Apparently Erica was one of those people.
She rubbed her legs together, making her skirt rise, then crossed her legs. I reached for my legal size notepad and balanced it on my knee, hiding the view I knew would come next.
“If you believe you have an addiction, then you should seek help,” I said.
“What would you do if I told you I wasn’t wearing any panties right now?”
“I’d tell you that there is nothing in the Bible that says that is a sin. We are here for confession, not to discuss your undergarments.”
She pouted as a hurt look appeared on her face. I had been a priest for the past year, in seminary school for four years before that. That made me celibate for over five years, and none of the flirting, inappropriate remarks, or gestures from our parishioners had made me regret that.
While many men were consumed by their lust especially when confronted by the female form. I was not one of them. I was a priest and I stood by the vow I took.
Erica slowly parted her legs as her fingers brushed against her knee and traveled up. I check the time again as I drummed my fingers on the notepad.
“Mrs. Miller, if you have nothing more to confess, then I think you should leave,” I said.
“But I’m not done,” she whined.
I raised an eyebrow and she stood from the chair and fixed her skirt. I reached back to my desk again and picked up a business card for an addictions specialist and handed it to her.
“I suggest you call them before you think about acting this way in front of a priest,” I said as I stood from my chair.
“So, nothing?” she asked.
“I’m a priest.”
“But you’re still a man.”
“No, I am not.”
She rolled her eyes then sighed in frustration before turning towards the door. Before she left I heard her mutter something, but the only word I could make out was ‘gay’.
For a moment I thought of stopping her and explaining that it had nothing to do with my sexuality. It had everything to do with my faith and calling to work for God, but I knew there was no point. She was looking for something to salvage her ego.
Sighing, I realized Erica was my last confession until I left for P
eru in a few days. It wasn’t what I wanted my last memory of St. Peter’s Parish to be. As I walked the short distance to the rectory next door, I felt a tap on my shoulder.
“Hello, Father McArthur.”
The voice behind me was familiar, but I couldn’t place it. I turned around and recognized Nadine Ricci. With her stick straight blonde hair and wide brown eyes, she didn’t look any different from when she was growing up next door to me. Nadine was one of a group of women who took enjoyment in flirting with Father Liam and I, despite never getting anything in return from us.
“Good evening, Nadine,” I said. “We grew up together, it’s alright if you use my first name. How have you been?”
“I’m good. I’m just waiting for my friend Erica. She said to meet her here. I’m sure you know her. Erica Miller?” She grinned like a cat who ate a bird, but when I didn’t respond she continued. “I loved your sermon a couple of weeks ago on temptation. You should visit us at St. Peter’s more often.”
“Thank you. That was a very crowded mass. I hope it did some good.”
“I never miss your masses here and I’m not alone in that. You are quite the draw, you know. I’m sure you know all the women call you the hot priest.” She raised her eyebrows and tilted her head slyly as she batted her eyelashes. “We’re lucky to have so many handsome men around here. I wish Father Walsh would bring you into our church permanently.”
“That’s up to the Dioceses, but I’m happy at Sacred Heart.”
I ignored her ‘hot priest’ comment and continued to the rectory next door. Thankfully Nadine got the hint and didn’t follow me. Of course I knew what the women called me. It was hard to not be aware of it when they were regularly flirting with me.
I had nothing to do with any of the women. And I knew their only interest in me was the unattainable and forbidden. Not that it mattered, but I wasn’t interested in any of them anyway. I gave up that life long ago for a better one. Now I was a priest and that was all that mattered.
Sinned: A Priest Romance Page 1