Beautiful Sinner: a standalone forbidden romance (Beautiful Series)

SOMEHOW, I sleep like the dead that night. But my words to Cadence are the first thing I hear when I wake up in the morning, like an echo of a bad memory. I fucked up.

The anger I felt has drained away, leaving me feeling rotten and cold.

I called her a slut—again.

I meant it.

I’ve never been so drunk on jealousy in my life, but I was angry at Cadence. Not that I had any right to be, but I hated the way she gave her body away. I hated that she would not see this guy again after today, and she let someone who would never be as close to her as I was…touch her, taste her, fuck her.

If that’s not envy, then I don’t know what is.

Sitting up in my bed, my feet flat on the floor, I bow my head and I pray—aggressively. Running the beads of my rosary through my fingers, I get lost in the rhythm of my prayer. It settles my mind, getting lost in the chant as it clears away the fog.

Hail Mary, Full of Grace, The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now, and at the hour of death. Glory Be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit.

The full prayer repeats in my head until it feels as if I’m no longer the one thinking it. I am no longer in control. I am lost to the cadence. This is what I love about my faith, how it runs like water through every moment of doubt or fear.

After nearly an hour, I get off my ass and get dressed, feeling somehow renewed. It’s Tuesday, which means I need to tend to the farm today before I focus on tomorrow’s Mass. I will have to face her today…all day. And I have no idea how she’ll behave.

Part of me hopes she’s holding onto her anger and she serves it to me. But another part of me is afraid we will never recover from this. After the incident in Dublin last week and now this, she may never let her guard down with me again. I may never hear her stupid jokes or be on the receiving end of that warm smile.

Probably for the best.

She’s not down at breakfast, but it’s past nine, which is late around here. Bridget is in a mood too, probably annoyed that her only two staff members took off to the pub to leave her alone in the house last night. I have too much to feel like shit for to start feeling bad for that.

“She’s already in the barn,” she snaps at me, when she catches me looking for Cadence. Does she know something? Did she hear our fight? Or Cadence’s visit to our guest’s room?

As I hop into the van, I rifle through the glove box for a hidden pack of smokes. I light up on my way over to the barn, noticing the way the dark clouds roll in from the west, so I pull out the weather app on my phone. Whatever we have to do out in the barn today, we need to do it fast because there’s a guster rolling in and won’t give us much warning.

I spot movement in the stable as I pull up. Judging by the aggressive way she’s raking the stall, she’s pissed. I can guarantee I’m the last person she wants to see.

Without a greeting, we make eye contact for a brief second before I head to the back of the barn to pull down the extra hay bales for Misty.

I spend the next hour working tirelessly, my mind running a mile a minute with all the things I’m too scared to say. She’s stomping around in the barn, doing her daily chores without complaint and actually completing them well.

A thunder cracks in the sky, practically shaking the walls of the barn, and I spot movement in the sky over the water. Misty starts to grow restless in her stable. When I come out to check on her, I find Cadence standing in her stall, stroking the horse’s nose and mumbling gently to her. It’s a far cry from the girl who was too afraid to even get close to her six weeks ago.

She stares back at me for a moment, and I hardly recognize her. She normally has bright eyes, glowing skin, a heavy layer or makeup to highlight every perfect feature. Today, there are heavy round bags under her eyes and a steely-cold frown on her face. If I had any hopes she was going to forget about what I said last night, that’s gone now.

“Cadence,” I say quietly, hoping to start a conversation.

She doesn’t look away or fight back so I continue.

“I want to apologize for what I said last—”

“Don’t bother,” she says, breaking me off. “You were right. I am a slut.” Her tone is cold and emotionless, like she’s defeated, giving me the final word and accepting that insult as truth. It has me gripping the pitchfork harder between my hands.

“Stop it.” I’m not playing with her, and my harsh snap shows it, but she doesn’t listen.

“You know, I may be a slut, Callum, but at least I can admit it. At least I own what I am.”

There she goes. She’s bringing out the weapons now, and I’m desperate to fight.

“Oh yeah? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re a hypocrite. You’re just jealous.”

My brow knots together as I toss down the pitchfork in anger. If she wanted to pin these feelings on me, I’m ready for it. “Jealous of what?”

“Jealous of me, Callum. Jealous that I get to live my life. That I don’t need God to tell me what to do all the time. I can fuck whoever I want, whenever I want. Meanwhile you’re stuck with that stupid collar around your neck because you can’t think for yourself.” She leaves Misty’s side and steps out of the stable toward me. She still has the rake in her hand as she walks into the clearing between the barn and stable.

“I have no regrets, Cadence. Don’t attack my position at the church. You know nothing about it.”

“I know it’s the only way you can get people to listen to you. I heard you at Mass. I know you’re a good speaker. But you’re nothing without it.”

My jaw clenches. The smiling American girl full of personality and joy is equally as spiteful and cruel as she is happy and fun.

“Cadence,” I warn her again.

She steps closer. There is so much pain and rage written on her delicate features that it makes her unrecognizable. “Don’t you dare apologize to me. You’re not sorry, Callum. You do think I’m a slut. Just admit it. I’m the only one who can call you out on how fake you are!”

Lightning lights up the dark clouds in the distance.

“Get in the barn,” I snap, ignoring her words, but she doesn’t listen.

“Or maybe you weren’t jealous of me at all. Maybe you were jealous of him.”

I don’t hear her words. All I see is the metal and wood in her hands and the approaching storm. “Cadence, goddammit!” I shout.

I don’t take the Lord’s name in vain—ever. I don’t claim to have a clean mouth by any means, but I don’t do that. And the only reason I do it now is to get her attention because even her eyes go wide. “Drop the rake.” My voice booms enough to snap her out of her spell.

Just as she drops it, a thunderous crack shakes the barn. It’s so loud, my ears ring, and I barely hear Misty screaming from her stall.

I hear Cadence’s scream, and I register the strike fast enough to grab her by the wrist and pull her into my arms. Quickly, I take her into the barn and hold her shaking body against me as I look up to inspect the roof.

The lightning rods on the buildings do their job. They keep the lightning from burning everything we own to the ground. We can’t help the fact that it’s loud as fuck and you never really get used to it.

When my ears stop ringing, I hear her muffled cries. In a daze, I pull her away to check her. The strike didn’t hit her. She dropped the rake in time. But she’s still shaking like a leaf and tears are flowing down her cheeks.

I yank her body back against mine and stroke her back as she sobs. It’s not about the lightning anymore. I can figure that much out myself.

She cries for what feels like an hour but is probably closer to ten minutes. I don’t know exactly what it is that’s causing the tears. Maybe it’s me calling her a slut, or regret over sleeping with that guy. It could be the fear from the lightning or missing home. My guess is a combination of all of these things. Nevertheless, I hold her while she does it.

The feel of her soft body in my hands is something I try to memorize. Her warm breath through my thin shirt. The way she fits with her face against my chest, right where my heart hides. How good her hair smells. How easily I could press my lips against the top of her head.

When she starts to quiet and the clouds finally release the rain, I let the words I’d been holding onto go free.

“You’re right. I do hide behind my collar. I do like that people listen to me. Most of the time, I do feel like a fraud, Cadence.”

She pulls her tear-soaked face away from my shirt and looks up at me. Her eyes are red-rimmed and swollen, but she never looked more beautiful than she does right now, raw and vulnerable and real.

Her gaze lingers on my face and the silence between us is louder than all of the unspoken words. It’s not about what we said to each other but about finally accepting that whether or not we should feel things, we do anyway.

We can accept that everything between us is so intense it’s hard to define. This quiet moment changes something.

It changes everything.

For any other man, this would be the moment I kiss her. And God help me, I want to.

I want to feel those full lips against mine so bad I’m afraid this desire will haunt me for the rest of my days. I wish she never stepped foot in my hotel because of how badly I want to press my tongue past her lips and feel what it’s like inside her. To own her. To please her.

She feels it too, I’m certain of it.

Her lips part. She’s waiting for me to make the first move. I see yearning in her softened eyes.

Seconds become heavy, weighted moments until the waiting becomes unbearable, and I look away.

“Let’s get back to the house.”

Disappointment colors her features as she nods her head and wipes her eyes.

I offer to pull the truck up closer so she doesn’t have to get wet, but she declines. I think she wants to feel the rain, as if it could wash away the last thirty minutes. Or thirty days.

The short drive feels long as we sit next to each other wordlessly. I can’t go inside. It would be best if I went back to the rectory, sleep there for a while. So I pull up to the front and leave the engine running as she starts to climb out. But I can’t let this conversation go, so just before she gets out, I speak up.

“Cadence.” She turns around and stares at me, and maybe there’s hope in her eyes. Hope that I’ll tell her to get back in so we can stay in this quiet bubble where the outside world doesn’t matter and vows mean nothing.

“You’re right. I was jealous.”

I don’t look her in the eye as I say it, and I’m sure she’s asking herself what or who I’m jealous of, but she’ll have to keep wondering because I leave her with that as I drive away.