Beautiful Sinner: a standalone forbidden romance

by Sara Cate

  She reaches for me and staggers where she stands.

  “Go to sleep, Cadence.”

  Her face morphs into a pained expression, and I feel fucking awful for it, but I’m glad I feel awful. I deserve to feel like shit because I took something for myself and left her feeling like nothing more than a temptation.

  And she is so much more than that.

  As I turn and walk back to my room, I listen for the sound of her footsteps to her own room. Yes, I want to own her body like I’ve never wanted to own anyone’s before, but I want to own her heart too. And for a man like me, that one is far more dangerous because if I fall in love with this girl, I know there will be no turning back and my life will never be the same.

  Fifteen

  Cadence

  “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.

  Sixteen

  Callum

  My spiritual guidance is coming in the form of Tullamore Dew.

  The pub down the street from my Father Markus’s church is just as holy in my eyes. And considering I backed the fuck out before walking in today, I had to find the next best thing.

  Her text came two shots in.

  Fuck you.

  I deserve that.

  What happened last night scared the shit out of me. My dick wouldn’t calm the fuck down for hours after our little hallway rendezvous, even after I gave it what it wanted. Well, not exactly what it wanted, but the closest thing. The thought of her spread out on the bed in front of me, open
and begging for me played in my mind as I jacked off three times. It did nothing for my guilty conscience.

  It didn’t stop me from wanting to break down her door and ignore my vows for one night.

  I knew this would happen. I treat my faith like it falls somewhere in the middle of my hierarchy of priorities. The farm comes first. The church. The house. Then my faith. So I’m not surprised that it’s falling apart. The first pretty thing with tits and an ass comes in and I crumble.

  Shocker.

  Cadence deserves better than this. A little space between us for a few days should calm things down. We need clarity. At least, I know I do. I just hope she’s getting clarity and not running to the first dick that presents itself while I’m gone.

  “I should have known I’d find you here.” A deep voice behind me shocks me, and I turn to find Father Markus walk in and take the seat next to me.

  Markus is about twenty years older than me, but has been in his priesthood for the same exact time I have. He and I went through seminary together, and he was granted a parish just an hour from mine. He is my mentor in many ways. I used to look up to him, how he could toe the line between well-behaved and spiritual. He drinks with his congregation, sits down with them at dinner, helps them pray, and takes their hand through every moment of their lives. He used to give me so much shit about taking my vows because he was sure that I was too wild to tame.

  He raises a hand to the bartender who brings him a Guinness without him even having to ask.

  I gave him a heads up this morning that I was coming, and now I guess my plans of cancelling my trip are gone.

  “Oh yeah? How did you know that?” I ask.

  “You never were the type to face your problems head on.”

  I guess that’s true. Too true.

  “How can we be so sure of God’s plan?” I ask over my glass of whiskey soaked ice.

  He laughs in that hearty way he used to when we would study together, and he was convinced I took everything too seriously. At first, I thought I would hate him. The condescending way he would brush my concerns aside, but as time went on, I started to wonder if Markus wasn’t somehow more in tune with God, like they spoke about me behind my back. From then on, I leaned on him for guidance. And for a break. Seminary was exhausting, and for a bitter old sinner like me, I found myself trying to force everything that was meant to come naturally.

  Like faith.

  “It’s called faith, Callum. It’s not about following His plan, but asking how you can serve His plan. What part do we play? How do we best serve our flock?”

  “Some days I don’t think I’ve served Him at all.”

  Markus laughs. “Of course you have. If you struggle with your purpose, you must be doing it right.”

  “How about this?” I ask, turning toward him. “If I can bring one person closer to God, but I have to sin to do it, is it worth it?”

  His eyes widen, and he strokes his bare chin with one hand while he thinks. His folded arms rest on his round belly, and I wait patiently for his response.

  Father Mark loves ethical questions. It was a constant game while we were in seminary. There was never a clear answer, and rarely a correct one. But each one made me think and understand my value as a man of God. If this is truly what God created me for, then I would be able to answer them with more questions than answers.

  “Our souls are not immune, Father Callum. We pay the same penance for our sins, and I would say that if you think sinning is the only way to bring this child of God to salvation, you haven't explored other options yet.”

  By ‘other options’, I know he’s referring to a chaste relationship and not what my mind wants to consider, which are acts not technically qualifying as sex. I know that is not what he means in the slightest.

  After a couple more drinks together, Markus and I walk back to his rectory where he gets me set up for a three-day visit. He wants me to sit in on his service tomorrow and spend my time here praying and being alone with God to find my clarity. I take this to mean we will also be spending time down the street in the pub to find our own clarity, and as much as the idea of being so far from Cadence literally pains me, I know this is exactly what I need. I can be back in Ennis by Sunday for service.

  The days go by slower than I thought possible. I never text her back and decide to make the distance real by turning my phone off completely. It doesn’t help. While I pray, I tend to get distracted with thoughts of her, missing her and reliving every moment together since she arrived. But by the time I drive back home, I have three truths solidified in my mind:

  One: Cadence was sent to me for a reason. And the reason is not for me. It’s for her. She came here lost and alone. She is the lamb that wandered from the flock and into danger. It’s my job to bring her back to where she needs to be, whether that be closer to God or where God wants her to be.

  Two: I cannot touch her like I did that night before I left. For her soul and mine. God is testing me. Not with temptation but with the chance to be the priest I always wanted to be.

  Three: I am already in love with her. I confessed this to Markus, and he admitted that he already knew this much without ever having met her. He could see it on my face and claimed that it was bound to happen to me eventually.

  It was more of a revelation to me. I have never fallen in love with someone before, but I know this feeling can only be described as love. I am a priest, meant to serve God’s creation. And out of all of God’s creations, she is by far my favorite.

  Seventeen

  Cadence

  Business at the bed and breakfast has picked up. It’s the only thing that keeps me distracted since Callum came back and put more distance between us than when he was a hundred miles away. He doesn’t sleep at the house anymore. The moment he walked in the door, it was like he was pretending that the forbidden touch between us didn’t happen.

  No apology for leaving. No response to my text. The level of comfort between us is just gone. He’s been inviting me to church with him, but I can hardly bear to be in the same room as him, let alone go somewhere he is center stage.

  Bridget and I have been bonding, staying up with a bottle of wine every night, and it’s nice. It makes me miss my sister a little less, although I’ve been avoiding her calls lately. I don’t know if I can lie to Sunny, and I know she’ll ask about how I’ve been doing on this little soul-search adventure I’m on. The only thing I’ve found is that I don't know how to fall lightly for a man. I give my heart too easily, and I’ll probably never have enough faith in myself to break that habit.

  We’ve been checking in so many older couples and families that I’ve been getting a little bored with the job, but when a group of young Americans comes in a couple weeks after Taron and his friends, I perk up. I need to socialize with someone my own age, and I figure a night out at the pub with guests from back home might lift my spirits.

  I’m at the front desk when they arrive. There are three of them, all guys. All handsome with bright smiles and charm in their eyes.

  “Welcome to Ennis,” I greet them. The strange glance they give each other as they walk in seems a little strange.

  “Thanks,” the blond one says as he walks up to the counter. “We’ve heard great things about this place.”

  “Oh yeah,” I answer. “Ennis is beautiful this time of year. Are you guys here for the hiking trails?”

  “Uh, yeah. You’re American?”

  “Yep. I couldn’t seem to leave.” It’s the line I use on everyone who asks. It’s starting to feel monotonous. Just as I take their IDs and credit cards, going on and on about how I ended up here and stayed, the front door opens and Callum walks in. He’s in his black shirt and collar, and I notice the way he pauses as he takes in the three dashing tourists with my full attention, so I do what any jilted girl would do. I lay into the flirting.

  “You guys just missed dinner, but if you’re hungry, I can fix you something from the kitchen.” I lean forward on the counter, pressing
my elbows in to boost up my cleavage, which not one man in the room misses—not even Callum. His jaw clenches.

  “That would be amazing, Cadence,” says the curly-headed brunette.

  “Meet me in the parlor, just around the corner here.” I give them each a bright smile as I turn and disappear into the kitchen. They give Callum a strange look before they go into the front room marveling at the view from the grand window.

  Callum follows me. “Let me help you.”

  “No thanks. I’ve got it. I know how to feed three hungry boys.” I give a little shake to my hips and smirk as I say it.

  “Very funny,” he mumbles. He helps me anyway, and luckily Bridget, who took the rest of the night off to go into town with Fitz, her new accordion-playing boyfriend, left dinner out, so I quickly heat up the beef roast before carrying it out to the parlor with three clean plates. He’s right on my heels with the silverware and napkins.

  “Oh wow,” one of the boys says.

  “So what do you have planned while you’re here?” I ask, dishing up the food onto each of their plates.

  They give each other that mischievous glare again, and I force my smile. I don’t know what I’m missing, but I don't pry. “Um...we actually heard some pretty good things about the pub down the street.”

  “Oh, Yeager’s? Yeah, you have to go there. You should be able to catch some live music tonight, too.”

  Each of the guys takes a seat around one of the small breakfast tables by the window, and I lean against the arm of the couch. Callum is behind the bar making a drink, and I notice the brunette boy’s eyes keep drifting back there as if his presence bothers them. I’m sure they’re not used to seeing a hot priest mixing a drink at their hotel. I almost make a remark about it when one of the guys adds in, “According to the reviews, you make a great tour guide, Cadence.”