68

SUNDAY

My steps were slow and measured as I trailed down the hallway to Father Gallagher’s office. Unfortunately, slow steps or no, there was no getting around what waited for me behind his closed door. If our sessions together were any indication, this was going to be a barrel of laughs.

I reached the door too soon, my hand poised to knock when his voice came from behind me, his breath tickling the little hairs on the back of my neck.

“You’re late, Miss Fallon. Not a good way to start out our evening. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Shame washed over my cheeks as I thought about what exactly I’d been doing while fantasies of Noah Blackthorne played out in my mind only minutes earlier. I’d needed something good to help take the edge off before coming down to face my unwarranted punishment.