Beautiful Sinner: a standalone forbidden romance (Beautiful Series)
Beautiful Sinner: Chapter 15

“WHAT DO you mean he went to Shannon?” I’m trying to hide my devastation, but it’s as clear as day. Bridget is starting to look a little exasperated as she folds sheets on the second floor.

“He had to meet with his parish priest. I thought he would have told you that.” I hear the sarcasm in her tone, and she’s taunting me with the fact that Callum didn’t tell me about this three-day trip of his.

“He didn’t mention it,” I mutter. “Was it planned?”

“I have no clue, dear. He goes from time to time. For guidance.” Her eyes drift up to meet mine. “Spiritual guidance.”

Message received. She knows this is because of me, because I’m a temptation for him, threatening to ruin his faith, and it grates on my nerves. We are more than that. I know it.

Anger burns through me so I storm out, and I don’t stop until I get into the van. After slamming the door shut, I let out a muffled cry and press my face against the steering wheel.

What if he is beating himself up for what happened last night? We didn’t do anything.

We wanted to. That much was clear. I felt how badly he craved it as he pressed his rock hard erection against me. This was nothing like my night with Taron, which was just sex. What I want with Callum is so much more than that.

His fingers on my skin awoke something deep and intense. His touch was meant for my body.

And now he’s in Shannon being talked out of everything I know we could have together. He’s acting like I’m a vice he has to cure himself of. I’m the mistress, and he’s running back to his “wife” to beg for forgiveness.

I let out another cry.

Pulling out my phone, I work on my text again. Out of everything I want to say, none of it seems to convey just how many emotions I’m feeling. So I go with the rawest, realest, thing I can muster. No sugar coating. If he is going to abandon me with this lust alone, I have two very choice words he can chew on while he is getting his much needed “spiritual guidance.”

Fuck you.

I turn my phone off and toss it on the passenger seat. In a rush, I storm off to the barn to drown my thoughts in work, and for the most part, it works.

That night, as Bridget and I make our grocery list and clear out the fridge, I can tell something is up with her. She’s tossing around casserole dishes like she wants to break them.

“I can finish this by myself if you’re not feeling well.”

I grew up with a sister. I can read moods like psychic, but with her dramatics, I don’t think I have to. Plus, I need to distract myself with someone else’s drama for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” she groans, stopping at the sink as she plunges her hands in the hot water and starts scrubbing. “I’m just exhausted, that’s all. This house has been so much fucking work, Cadence. And do you know…I haven’t had a proper day to myself in over a year.”

“Oh shit,” I stammer, but she quickly cuts me off.

“I shouldn’t be complaining about the sudden burst in business. It’s great, but this was Teddy’s dream. Well, it was our dream, but I never would have taken this place from our grandparents if I thought he was going to go get himself killed.”

She slams the clean saucepan onto the counter, and I know that had to feel good. I’m standing still as stone across the kitchen when I get an idea.

“You know what we need?”

She looks up at me with her shoulders slumped.

“We need to get drunk. Both of us. Let’s go.”

It takes some persuasion, but finally I get Bridget to abandon our plan to organize the kitchen and take her down to Yeager’s. There are only a couple guests at the hotel, and they’re all settled in the rooms for the night. Daisy is in her room with the door closed like she always is. We’ll only be right down the road.

The pub is quieter than usual, which means it’s still almost full but without a band playing it sounds almost silent. We take our place at the bar and Bridget orders us both a pint and a shot like she does this all the time.

Across the bar, I notice the guys setting up to play, but the accordion player’s eyes keep finding their way to where we are sitting.

Bridget turns to me with the shot in her hands. “Slainte,” we say in unison. Learning the Irish term for cheers was part of my lessons on day one, and it’s one of the only things I remember from my night with Clint.

“Okay,” she says, slamming her empty shot glass down on the bar. “Tell me everything.”

My eyes go wide, and I swallow down the liquid fire, trying to figure out what the hell I’m going to tell her.

“Umm…about what?”

“About that little hottie you hooked up with the other night!”

Jesus, I almost forgot about Taron. And even though he’s really the last thing I want to talk about right now, it’s better than telling her that I dreamt about her brother’s forbidden boner last night.

“You’re not mad?” I ask before taking a big drink of my Guinness to wash down the whiskey.

“Nah. I don’t care. It’s your life, but don’t let Callum find out.” She laughs. “He’s a prude when it comes to that stuff.”

I don’t bother telling her that Callum doesn’t just know I was with Taron. I’m pretty sure he listened in on the whole thing. Or that he called me a slut for the second time that night. But I almost want to correct her about him being a prude. That’s not it at all.

Callum lives with so much envy it has turned into resentment. He’s devoted his life to the service of the church and he believes so heartily in the cause that he hasn’t stopped to think about what he’s been giving up for it.

“Okay, okay, I’m serious,” she says after another round of shots shows up. “Tell me everything before I drink too much and forget it.”

So I tell Bridget everything she wants to know about Taron, how he had tattoos all the way down to his Prince Albert and how he was very attentive to my needs. She loves every minute of it, and it becomes very clear that she hasn’t seen any action in a very long time. It’s fun, but I don’t get the same satisfaction out of the story that I used to.

After a while, the band plays, and we stick around for their whole set. When they finish, the accordion player makes his way over, just as I predicted, and Bridget beams at him like he’s made of gold. As I ease myself out of the conversation, I know my absence will go mostly unnoticed, and for a moment I’m almost jealous of her.

She’s probably falling for that accordion player right now while the one guy I’m craving is off with a priest trying to pray me away.

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