Saint (A Dark Mafia Romance)(79)

“Meaning?”

“Meaning I don’t have a vagina.”

My eyes go wide before I can stop them, and he laughs. “Uh oh! You’re in Massachusetts now! Better watch out! We’ve got gays up here you know,” he smirks, like he thinks he’s hilarious. “I know you guys don’t really do the whole gay thing down in Bible-land, but up here-”

“I don’t not do the gay thing.”

I can see the shot I’ve set him up for before the grin finishes unfurling across his face.

“No,” I say sharply, pointing a finger at him. “Don’t.”

He laughs. “What?”

“Whatever crude, disgusting comment you were about to make.”

“My lips are scissored. Uh, sealed.”

I roll my eyes, looking away.

“Okay, look, I think we got off on the wrong foot.”

“Did you get that impression as well?”

He smiles. “Let’s try again, huh? I’m even wearing pants this time.” He holds his hand out. “Hi, I’m Rowan. Our dads are friends and I think we’re probably going to be working together a lot this fall on this church shit.”

I sigh. “This church shit-” I bite my tongue at the swear, forcing myself to be cordial. “I’m Evangeline. You can call me Eva.”

He takes my hand, and I resist the sudden urge to shiver. “Nice to meet you, Eva. You want that key now?”

“That would be great.”

He pulls it out of his back pocket and drops it in my hand. “All yours. Don’t throw too many parties in the place. I know you bible-thumpers like to get wild.”

I grin in spite of my best efforts not to as I turn and march away from him.

“Oh, right, welcome to Shelter Harbor, church-girl!” he calls after me.

I bite back the grin as I round the corner.



“Did you stop for lunch?” My father snaps at me as he stands from the front steps leading up to the porch of the rental house.

“No, sorry, I just-”

What, I just had to navigate the most obnoxious, crude, disgusting man I’ve ever met? Not to mention the most naked one?

I smile at my father. “Rowan was doing his paperwork for the business — taxes and payroll and stuff. I didn’t want to disturb him until he was done.”

My father’s frown softens. “Good girl, Evangeline. That was good. The Lord smiles on patience.”

I nod, smiling back at him as I hand him the key. I have no idea why I lie about Rowan to my father’s face like that, but there it is.

Welcome to Shelter Harbor indeed.

“You father’s just tired from the trip, dear,” my mother says quietly, placing a hand on my arm before picking up her suitcase and following him up the steps into the house.

“This town smells like fish.”

I smile as I shake my head at Chastity. “It’s just the smell of the ocean. There’s a fully working seaport down in the harbor, you know.”

I’d petitioned 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.”

Chastity 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 parishioners who’s joined us for our stint here in Shelter Harbor before she marries her minister of a fiancé back home. This trip is apparently a way of “getting closer with God” 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.”

Chastity’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.”

Chastity 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 shiver 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.