The Saint(64)
“Are you going to cut it off? Do we need to call an ambulance?”
“Lift your hair up and hold still.”
She dug her fingers into her hair and held it while Søren gripped the fabric of the dress and pulled it out from her skin. After a few seconds of tugging, the zipper finally budged.
Eleanor tried to take over for him, but he seemed intent on pulling it all the way down. Who was she to argue with him, especially when his fingertips brushed the bare skin of her lower back?
“Better?” he asked.
“Thank God. I thought I’d die in this stupid dress.” Søren turned his back to her while she pulled the rest of her dress off, put on a bra and slithered into her white T-shirt.
“It’s not a stupid dress. You looked lovely in it.”
“Lovely? That bustier top pushed my tits up to my neck.”
“But in such a lovely way.”
Eleanor stuffed the dress into her bag and pulled her hair up into a ponytail all while glaring at him. She wanted to be happy he was here talking to her but she couldn’t get over her anger. Over a year of the cold shoulder could not be forgiven with one compliment on her tits.
“What are you doing over here? Shouldn’t you be all snuggled up in bed with Jesus?”
Søren watched her as she pulled out garbage bags from under the sink.
“I have company. I noticed the lights were still on. What are you doing here?”
“Cleaning.”
“Cleaning?”
Eleanor took the bags into the fellowship hall and started dumping plastic plates and paper cups into the trash bag.
“Diane’s been nice to me,” Eleanor began. “She’s sweet. Drives me places since I can’t get my license until I’m off probation. I couldn’t afford to get her a real wedding gift so I said I’d clean the hall up so her family wouldn’t have to.”
She balled up a paper tablecloth.
“What?” she demanded.
“I didn’t say anything,” he said.
“You’re staring at me, Father Stearns,” she said with sarcastic emphasis on his title.
“I am.”
“Why?”
“I’m staring at you because entirely without intending to you’ve become a very kind and generous person.”
“You can shove kind and generous up your ass.”
“And I’m staring at you because you are stunningly beautiful.”
Eleanor dropped the bag on the floor.
“Søren. Seriously.” Her stomach churned. She wanted to cry and scream and kiss him and kill him all at once.
“When you aren’t trying to look beautiful, you look beautiful. When you are trying to look beautiful, you are stunning.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Maybe not, but I’m trying to.”
“I don’t blame you, Little One.” He stepped closer and Eleanor fought the urge to retreat.
“So we’re back to this now?” she asked, sitting on the edge of a table and crossing her arms over her stomach.
“Back to what?”
“Back to us being honest with each other? You snap your fingers and the past year goes away just like that?”
Søren held out his hand and snapped his fingers by her ear. She flinched at the sound.
“Just like that,” he said.
“You’ve been acting like I don’t exist for months. Why tonight?”
“Two reasons,” he said. “First, there is something you need to know. Second, I have an entire bottle of wine in me.”
Eleanor gaped at him.
“You’re drunk?”
Søren raised his hand. An inch separated his thumb from his index finger.
“That much?”
Søren slightly widened the gap.
“That would be slightly more accurate,” he said.
“Great. It’ll be easier to seduce you, then,” Eleanor said, seeing how much she could push him.
“Later. We should talk first.”
“You talk while I clean.” So what if he was drunk and here and gorgeous and she’d missed him so much her hands were shaking from simply speaking to him again? She had a job to do.
“Can I help you?”
She picked up her bag.
“This is my gift to Diane, not yours. I have to do this myself or it’s cheating.”
“I feel useless simply standing here.”
“You are useless.”
“Is there anything I can do to be less useless to you?”
“Fuck me on the gift table?”
Søren glowered at her so hard she laughed.
“Fine.” She pointed to the corner of the room. “You can put on some music.”
“This is a job I can do.” The DJ, otherwise known as the bride’s cousin Tommy, had left all the equipment and music behind. He’d come by in the morning to haul it all away. “Or not.”