Between Heaven and Rock (The Swallow Barn Cottage Series, Book 3)

All Buttoned Up

"You're–"

What?! What?!! What the–

"A curate, yes," he said.

He's watching her reaction. He so is. Look how tense the lines of his mouth are!

"Right," she said. 

What's this noise? Ah, that would be the sound of her brain matter slowly sliding down the inside of her skull after it's exploded and splattered onto the walls of her noggin. 

"A curate... as in a priest?" That's a squawk. You've just squawked, Ulla. "A priest on probation. That's what a curate is, right?"

Right?

"Yes, it is," he said. "As of March of this year, I'll be taking the position of the curate in the St. Peter's Church in Fleckney Woulds. That's my first position after my ordination, thus, I'm a curate. After four years, I'll become a vicar."

Oh thank all Æsir and Vanir. Actually, should she bring the deities up in the light of the current situation?

On the other hand, a vicar! At least, no RCC.

She should probably put her half-full cup of hot coffee before she decorated the lovely walls and the floor of Fiona and Will Holyoake's bathroom with her bevvie.

"That's– just–" What is it, Ulla? You clearly don't have the continuation of this sentence mapped out yet. Maybe you should just close your mouth. "So, you're a priest."

"Yes, I am," he said, and the corners of his mouth twitched.

That would be sexy - except he was a bloody priest! A priest! Oh god. Oh wait, is it blasphemy to think and say 'oh god?' What?! She doesn't even believe in god!

"Right." She might have said 'right' a couple of times before - but what else was there to say? "As in an actual priest? A collar, a black robe, and all?"

"Yes, I am." And there was his soft warm smile. "Could you help me with the shirt, please?"

"Yes. Yes, I will. I will–" She sounded raspy. "Help you with your shirt. And your collar. Your clerical collar. On your clerical shirt. I mean, wow..."

He chuckled.

"Still processing?" he asked.

"Yeah," Ulla answered. "So do you mind– Actually, just give me a second." She turned away from him, put the mug on the top of a linen cabinet near her, and pressed her hand to her forehead. "It's sort of easier to process you being a priest when your– everything doesn't distract me."

He chuckled behind her again.

"I'm getting cold," he said - no, he purred - and Ulla twirled on one spot.

"You see, that's what's boggling my mind!" she exclaimed. "You're just– so normal! Like flirting, and– I– I mean, not really flirting, but sort of–" She flailed her hands in the air. Again, excellent forward thinking on that coffee. "I'm experiencing a cognitive dissonance between my perception of your looks and personality, and your vocation!" she cried out, and he burst in a guffaw.

"That's a wonderfully articulated statement," he said and gave her a cheeky look over. "And I'm still cold."

"What are you– You know what? You deserve to be cold!" she said and pointed her finger in the direction of his - elegant patrician - nose. Can she still compliment his looks in her head - or is this totally inappropriate now? "Because I'm starting to think I've grossly underestimated your... 'quacking!'" she hollered. He chuckled, and she hissed, "You've been playing me the whole time! That's why you asked me to stay last night, didn't you? Because you knew I'd find out today. And this whole–" She once again gestured around his - gorgeous, gorgeous, so bloody gorgeous! - chest. "All this display is to see how I react!"