SAINTS DON’T MOAN

Chapter 10

•Miguel•

She looked so f*****g beautiful when she was flustered, especially when it was because of me.

I stayed exactly where she’d shoved me, like some i***t puppy waiting for scraps, eyes locked on that door as if staring hard enough would make her open it.

Christ, this girl had me acting like a lunatic and I loved every second of it.

My hand slid into my left jean pocket, fingers closing around my phone. I needed something, anything, to keep me from kicking the damn door down and dragging her out.

I hit Damien’s name.

He answered on the fifth ring, voice dripping with smug.

“What’s going on, lover boy?”

Fucker.

“Landed safely, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Not what I’m asking,” he said, and I could hear the distant hum of an engine on his end, like he was driving too fast with the windows down. “You sound like you're exhausted, what's going on?’

“A long f*****g trip, I had Penelope on my lap all through because she was scared of flying,” I muttered.

He laughed, taunting me. “She got you crazy hard, huh?”

I didn’t answer, and that told him everything.

“She’s got you down bad,” he said. “I’m happy you got that.”

“She's not your business, Damien.”

“Everything’s my business. You forget who pulled you out of—” He cut himself off, refraining to bring up the past.

“Anyway, just remember we’ve got more than your hormones to worry about. There's a meeting on Thursday. I'll send you the link by 11 pm. Please bring your head, not your dick.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Good boy.” His voice turned dry. “Don’t get yourself killed before I see you.”

He hung up without waiting for a reply, leaving me with the hum of dead air and the door I still wanted to break down.

It's been what? Twenty minutes? Who the f**k prays for that long?

Either she was plain out avoiding me or she wasn't done praying.

I sat on the couch still staring daggers at the door hoping it'd swing open and she'd walk out but there was no such luck.

Maybe I should knock? What if she fell in the bathroom or something?

Yeah no.

Damien was right, I need my head in the game for Thursday's meeting with the board.

Fuck, a distraction. That's all I f*****g I needed.

I grabbed my wallet and keys, storming out of the house.

I considered leaving a note to tell her I'd be going to grab groceries but I couldn't stay in the house for another minute.

The air outside was cool, biting against my skin, but it didn’t do a damn thing to calm me. I slid into the car and headed toward Walmart maybe the noise from others will ease the f*****g pain in my pants.

Like expected, Walmart was a f*****g mad house during the weekends.

And for a millisecond it did a lot to ease my nerves, I turned into the pasta aisle, debating between penne and spaghetti, when a familiar voice made my skin crawl.

“Miguel?”

Shit. s**t. Not today, not now.

I froze mid-step, praying to every saint I knew that it wasn’t who I thought it was.

But when I looked up, there she was, Claudia.

She looked the same, if not younger. Her long dark hair sharpened her facial features perfectly.

“Wow. You look… good,” she said, eyes scanning me like she wanted to eat me up.

We had a thing in the past, my first visit to Oakridge and after I left that was it until my next visit and then our relationship became one for when I was around.

I didn't think she still lived here, hell the last time we saw we bid each other farewell because she decided to move, not out of state but the damn country.

I forced a polite smile, gripping the cart handle a little too tight. “Claudia. Didn’t know you were still in town.”

“Just visiting my sister. And here I was thinking Oakridge had nothing worth coming back for,” she purred, closing the distance between us.

I took a step back. My brain screamed at me to move, i***t, but my body stayed put because that would be admitting she still rattled me.

“You shopping for someone special?” she asked, leaning forward enough to make it obvious.

“No,” I lied automatically. Yes, actually. For the girl who's upstairs in my house making me lose my mind. But that is none of your concern.

She smirked like she could read my thoughts. “I always did like the domestic side of you.”

I choked out a laugh that wasn’t even remotely genuine. “Yeah, well, times change.”

Her fingers brushed the cart handle, my hand was still there. I yanked it back like I’d been burned.

God, this feels like being cornered by a cat that knows exactly how to play with its food.

“Maybe we should catch up while you’re in town,” she said, tilting her head.

“Mm, probably not.” I reached past her for a jar of marinara, my arm brushing her sleeve, and every muscle in me locked up. “Take care, Claudia.”

I turned the cart around before she could respond, making a beeline for the self-checkout.

If this trip was supposed to calm me down, it’s officially failed.

I'm guessing she didn't get the memo because minutes later Claudia was right behind me.

Great.

I quickly scanned the pasta, praying the damn machine wouldn’t give me the “unexpected item in the bagging area” warning. No such luck.

Of course.

I jabbed at the screen harder than necessary, and she used the delay to slide in closer.

“You always were terrible at saying no,” she said, like this was cute.

I didn’t look at her. “Guess I’ve gotten better at it.”

“Not from where I’m standing.” Her perfume hit me like a memory I didn’t want, that sweet suffocating jasmine scent. “One drink. That’s all. No strings as usual, and you could give me a check up, doc.”

Check up and old times? Yeah. We never did any check ups that didn't involve my d**k deep in her throat or her p***y.

Really hard pass.

“Can’t,” I said flatly, swiping my card.

She leaned her hip against the counter, watching me bag my groceries like she was auditioning for a part in my evening. “What are you afraid of, Miguel? That you might still like me?”

I finally looked at her, letting my expression go completely cold. “I’m afraid I’ll waste my night.”

Her smile faltered, but not enough. She still thought this was a game. “Come on. I’m in town for one week. That’s all. You really gonna say no to me every time I ask?”

“Yes.”

She laughed softly, like she didn’t believe me, like she never had. “We’ll see.”

I didn’t to answer, just swiped my card and waited for the beep. That should’ve been the end of it.

But before I could grab my receipt, she stepped right into my space and wrapped her arms around me.

The hug was too warm, too long. I stood stiff, hands still full of plastic bags, pretending I wasn’t calculating exactly how fast I could walk to the parking lot without looking like I was running.

“Call me,” she whispered before pulling back.

Twenty-four hours and I'm already losing my s**t.

I pulled into the driveway, breathing deep, bracing for the pretty angel probably still upstairs on her knees in prayer.

Well… on her knees, at least.

I grabbed the grocery bags, but before I could get the key in, the door swung open. Penelope stood there, hand over her chest, wearing the blue dress I picked.

I knew she was hot. I knew she was curvy. But not this curvy.

I wanted to dive straight between her legs and let her thighs crush the life out of me.

“You look—”

“Don’t.” Her voice was sharp enough to slice through the cold air.

She was pissed. Why?

“You left without saying a thing. You don’t do that to someone new to a town.”

She was right.

“I’m sorry, I just went to grab a few things—”

“You sure grabbed a few things,” she snapped.

“Yeah. Groceries. For dinner.”

She rolled her eyes, stepping back inside. “You smell like a woman. And she must’ve been so protective of you, she left her lipstick on your neck.”

What the f**k?

“I wasn’t with a woman.”

“I don’t have a problem with you being with a woman, but don’t do it at my expense.”

“I wasn’t—”

“You should take a look in the mirror.”