Shelter Harbor: Sinner Part 4

I smile as I shake my head at Chast.i.ty. "It's just the smell of the ocean. There's a fully working seaport down in the harbor, you know."

I'd pet.i.tioned to take the ferry to Shelter Harbor from Boston, where we flew into. Father vetoed that in favor of the highway, which I guess is a lot faster. It would have been nice to take in the ocean though.

"Well, it's a fully working seaport that smells like dead fish."

Chast.i.ty is...intense at times, but we're friendly enough to a certain degree. She's my age, and the daughter of one of my father's paris.h.i.+oners who's joined us for our stint here in Shelter Harbor before she marries her minister of a fiance back home. This trip is apparently a way of "getting closer with G.o.d" before she joins her future husband in his lifelong commitment to tending his flock.

"You smell like beer, by the way," she says, frowning as she sniffs at the air around me like she's some sort of bloodhound.

"No I don't," I say quickly.

"You do."

I start to wrack my brain before suddenly words just come tumbling out. "Oh, right. Rowan was helping a homeless man out front of his restaurant when I got there. Giving him soup and all that. It's probably that."

Chast.i.ty's eyes narrow at me. "Restaurant? I thought it was a bar."

"Oh, is it?"

"You were there."

"Oh, I'm not sure then. I didn't really notice, I guess."

Chast.i.ty rolls her eyes as she grabs her bag and heads up the stairs.

I turn, letting the air out in a thin stream as I look down the hill at the harbor. I s.h.i.+ver as my mind flies back to him - of stepping into that office, of seeing, well, what I saw.

The illicit, wicked temptations that came with being around him. I quickly shake those thoughts from my head as I pick up my bag and glance once more at the harbor before turning to the house.

Well, it's nine-thirty in the morning, and I've already lied twice, harbored l.u.s.t, and had very impure thoughts about a man.

Heck of a way to start the morning.

Chapter Four.

Rowan

"Can I get..." The girl taps her lips thoughtfully with a perfectly manicured nail. Her cheeks blush bright crimson as she swallows the obvious lump in her throat.

I already know at least vaguely what she's going to order based off the sparkling tiara on her head, the "bride to be" sash over one shoulder, and the p.e.n.i.s necklace around her neck.

Most people - especially people who work in or own bars - find bachelorette parties to be obnoxious. Groups of drunk, excited women hopped-up like drug fiends on the idea of love, marriage, and the idea of a "last night of freedom"?

Yeah, I find them to be like shooting fish in a barrel.

"What can I get you, sweetheart."

I amp up the Boston townie accent, playing into the fantasy I already know is playing in her head. The Ben Affleck in The Town, or Matt Damon in Good Will Hunting fantasy.

That's why girls like her come into places like O'Donnell's. We don't have a c.o.c.ktail menu. We carry one wine. We don't have a DJ or pretty guys in designer jeans hustling to buy cute girls drinks. This place is a townie dive bar through and through, and girls like her who come in here want that. They want the dirty fantasy, the grunge of a place like this, the rakish charm of a guy like me.

Girls like her, with the enormous rock in her engagement ring, the flawless makeup, the designer dress and heels and four-thousand-dollar clutch know exactly who I am. They know I'm not the preppy hedge fund manager trust-fund boy they're marrying next week. They know I'm not going to take them to Morton's in the city, or buy their love with diamonds and a lap dog.

They see me for exactly who I am, and that is exactly why a guy like me makes for the best kind of "last night of freedom" escape.

She bites her lip playfully as her eyes center on me, and I can just about see her courage building to a crescendo behind those eyes.

"Can I get a s.e.x on the beach."

She practically explodes in nervous, alcohol fueled giggles as soon as she says it, and I can see her girlfriends camped out in the booth behind her dissolve into fits of giggles and "She actually said it!"

I just grin though, holding her eyes and not even flinching. "Bar closes at two. It should be low tide then if you're interested."

Her eyes go wide as her jaw drops.

I'm teasing her, but I'm not altogether kidding either, and she can see that.

"Oh, I- I'm-"

She stammers, her face growing red as she suddenly looks at her hands. "I'm, uh, I'm getting marr-"

"Relax darlin," I say with a chuckle. "I'm just giving you a hard time."

She looks up quickly, her face relaxing a little as she smiles awkwardly. "It was a-"

"Dare? Yeah, you're not the first bachelorette party to come in here."

Hers is actually the fifth one I've had blow through O'Donnell's in the past two months.

"What do you really want to drink?"

She laughs nervously. "Actually, just a gin and tonic. I don't even know what a s.e.x on the beach is."

"Offer still stands to show you if you want."

She looks up quickly again as I wink at her, letting her decide for herself this time if I'm just teasing or not as I turn and grab a gla.s.s from the shelf behind me. I flip the gin bottle up in the air before catching it and pouring it over the ice. A little Tom-Cruise-c.o.c.ktail flair never turned a girl off, let me tell you.

"It's on the house," I murmur as I pa.s.s it her way.

"Oh, thanks," she blushes.

"Look, if you want, you can go tell your friends that I promised to meet you on the beach later and f.u.c.k the single right out of you."

Her eyes go wide, flas.h.i.+ng over me in something like l.u.s.t as I grin.

"Trust me, it'll make for an awesome bachelorette party story."

"Thanks," she blushes, sipping quickly on her G&T before turning and scurrying back to her gaggle of friends.

"A s.e.x on the beach? Really?" Jade groans, and I turn to catch her rolling her eyes behind the bar with me. "I love how every girl thinks that's the most original line in the world because one of her friends found it on Google."

"Aww, what, jealous you didn't get the line?"

Jade flips me off before grabbing a couple cold pints from the fridge and filling them from the Sam Adams taps.

"She had clingy trust-fund case written all over her. Hard pa.s.s from me."

"Quitters never win, Jade."

She snorts as she makes change for the guy buying the beers before nodding her chin at the next person lined up to the bar.

It's Sat.u.r.day, and we're f.u.c.king cranking. The bar is three deep, the music is rocking, and this place is actually filled with more than just drunk townie locals who've been coming to drown themselves at O'Donnell's since before I was old enough to drink, let alone before I owned the place. We're slowly moving from "actual dive bar" to "fun dive bar," and while the purist in me would be just fine keeping it the sticky, smoke-filled, grungy s.h.i.+t-hole I fell in love with at the age of sixteen with my fake ID, the business owner in me is pretty okay with the change.

So, as a business owner, I'm pretty pleased with the night. As a man still nursing an epic hangover from the night before though?

It's a G.o.dd.a.m.n nightmare.

"Drink?"

Jade elbows me in the ribs and I turn to see her handing me a half-pint of beer.

"The responsible business owner in me is frowning at the employee giving away free booze and encouraging drinking on the job, you know."

"The same responsible business owner who just gave away that gin and tonic and keeps a bottle labeled 'Rowan only' behind the bar?"

I grab the gla.s.s from her hand and raise it up. "Slinte."

Jade tosses the Gaelic toast back my way, and we drink. The beer chases some of the lingering headache, and I'm tossing it back to finish the rest of the gla.s.s when my eyes land on the front door swinging open.

Well, huh.

Because there in the doorway is the very last church girl I'd have ever expected to see back in here.

"Excuse me sir, but do you have a moment to talk about our Lord and Savior?" Jade snickers in my ear.

"She's Baptist, I think. Or like, Evangelical Calvinist or, whatever."

"Huh?"

"The Lord and Savior stuff is Jehovah's Witnesses."

Jade gives me a look. "Right, well, good luck."

I turn back to see Eva nervously slipping her way through the crowd, and for a minute, I'm actually wondering how she managed to get past Jon, my door guy. As much fun as I had in this place back in high school with a fake ID, Ma.s.sachusetts's stance on serving minors is no f.u.c.king joke these days. My once-over of her this morning would not have put her at legal drinking age.

And however much Jade was kidding, she practically looks like she's going door-to-door with the good word. She's wearing khakis and a freaking tucked in t-s.h.i.+rt with some sort of ministries slogan and logo on the front of it. It's a far cry from the white-dressed angel I woke up to.

"You got this?" I nod at Jade and the crowd at the bar, which actually seems to be thinning slightly.

She shrugs. "Sure."

I slip out under the service bar and meander through the crowd towards a very lost, very freaked out looking Eva Ellis.

"You even old enough to be here or should I be calling the cops."

She whirls, her face white and her eyes wide. "Oh, no, I'm old enough."

She fumbles in her pocket and starts to yank out an ID before she sees me grinning.

"Oh, you're joking."

"Just a little. Seriously though, how old are you?"

"Twenty-one."

I raise a brow, shrugging. "Well okay then. What are you drinking?"

She blushes. "Oh, no, I don't drink."

Of course not.

"Well if you're here for the cuisine, you're probably in for a let-down." I nod at the bowl of pretzels on the bar next to me.

Eva smiles, and I can't help but grin back.

"I actually need your help with something."

"Oh?"

"The water's off at the house?"

"The rental?"

She nods.

"s.h.i.+t. Let me guess, you called my dad-"