Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
“I’ll go check it out.” I take a step back, the older wood floors still creaking under my steps, and adjust myself to make my deflating erection comfortable. Soft yellow light from downstairs lights up the hallway as the whirring of winds pushes into the room beside us. There’s a freshness circulating around the floor with every breath crisper than the last while I approach the door.
Harper has her clothes back on when she joins me as I push the door open. She flips the light switch, illuminating the cause of the shattered glass. The bottom window pane has a jagged hole about the size of a fist. A piece of the home’s gutter has come loose, swinging down in the storm and punching its way inside the office.
It only takes me a few quick shoves to move the large black desk away from the window to see the mess of glass shards on the floor. A mixture of snow and melting ice drips onto the floor from the end of the gutter pipe, leaning into the broken window.
“Baby girl, go put something on your feet and bring me something to help clean this mess up, please. Oh, and garbage bags and tape if you have it.”
“Okay,” she says, hurrying out of the room.
Evaluating the window doesn’t take long. I can safely push the pipe outside where the last shred of metal connecting it to the house snaps, causing the section to fall to the ground. I’m certain it will be easy to find once the storm passes. I can fix it within the next week, so long as the weather lets up.
When Harper comes back, she has everything I need, and we get to work putting her office back together. After it’s all said and done, I notice the look of dread in her eyes as she stares at the papers scattered across the desk. Some are soaking wet and others are sticking together. She groans with frustration.
“I guess I have to start over on this report,” she says, holding up a few pages by their driest corners.
“I’m sorry, baby girl.”
She giggles to herself. “It’s not your fault the snow had other plans for me. I’m just happy I was with you when the pipe crashed through the window. The cleanup would have been way different if I was sitting here working.”
I pull her close to me, anchoring my arm around her waist. “I was here to protect you, and I’ll always be here to do just that. What kind of report was it? Maybe I can help so you don’t have to start completely from scratch.”
“I’m supposed to be analyzing a business to come up with a strategy to improve their profits. I was going to look at one of my brothers’ companies, but my mother actually suggested I ask you. Especially since you asked for my help to improve youth attendance.”
“I’m okay with you analyzing the church’s operations. I’m not sure how much profit is involved with Saint Alban’s as of yet. I’ve only been the priest for a few months. I’m still learning the books, but I know the Archbishop will be pleased if I can raise attendance and additional donations.”
The more I think about it, the more I like the idea of having another set of eyes go over the finances. Granted, she’s not professionally licensed, but if she spots anything that’s helping or hurting the church, I can call in an auditor.
I’m keeping my suspicions to myself, but there’s something off with the books. Every time I try to get the last priest's financial records, the accounting firm can never tell me anything other than to read the reports.
There are volunteers who work on the administrative staff of the church, but they only take care of light bookkeeping. It’s not their job to spot discrepancies, but I do expect honesty from everyone working for the parish.
“Would it be okay if we take a look at the books on Monday, baby girl? I'm not sure what the roads are going to be like over the weekend.”
Harper smiles, sliding her hand up to my face. “We can do whatever you like, Father. Besides, the only thing I had planned was working on this project. It seems like you’re a blessing, a gift that keeps on giving. Are you hungry?”
I nod. “I can eat.”
She grins when my eyes drag their gaze down her body. She knows exactly what I want to eat.
“Insatiable.” Harper playfully shoves me, taking a step out of my embrace. I grab the trash bag full of broken glass and wet napkins, following her downstairs into the kitchen.
We fall into a rhythm effortlessly as she pulls food out of the refrigerator. Harper makes her way around the kitchen, and I take into stock where everything is. When I put the bag into the trash can, the slender sway of her hips hooks my gaze to every move she makes. How the hell have I been ignoring my needs as a man this long?