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Sinner(17)

By:Aubrey Irons


The man chuckles, a gravely, dark sound. “That mouth is going to get you in trouble some day, kid. If your little girlfriend wasn’t here, I’d remind you of that.”

“Not my girlfriend.”

The guy turns. “You want that reminder then?”

“I’m good.”

He chuckles darkly as he slips the money into his coat. “Have a good night, Hammond. I’ll make sure Rich knows we’re good for the month.”

The man is around the corner when I whirl on Rowan.

“He hit you?”

He waves me off. “It’s just a joke thing.”

“Rowan, I’m not an idiot.”

“Look,” he growls, his face suddenly stern. “You don’t need to know about this, okay? Trust me. Actually, no one needs to know about this, if you get my drift.”

I nod quietly.

His hand moves to my arm, and my eyes dart up to his. “It’s really nothing, alright? Seriously, I’ve got it handled. Can we just take it five steps back to what we were talking about before?”

“Which was?”

“Your dad having a new guy all picked out for you?”

I roll my eyes. “It’s not like that.”

“It sounds a lot like that.”

“My father just wants what’s best for me.”

“Right. What proud father wouldn’t want to auction his daughter off?”

“It’s not like that, I’m telling you.” I shrug. “Look I know how this sounds, but it’s a good match.”

Rowan whistles and takes a drink.

“What?”

“A good match?”

“Well he is!”

“Right. Except this isn’t feudal England and you’re not the Duchess Apparent ready to inherit your lands and titles.”

I roll my eyes. “Milton is a-”

“Milton?”

I frown at Rowan. “Yes, Milton. He’s a good, upstanding member of our parish, good with the church, and strong in the community. He’s a business owner, actually. Like you.”

“Angel,” Rowan suddenly steps closer to me, and I swallow quickly at the nearness of him.

“I’m willing to bet very good money he’s nothing like me,” he says quietly, the nearness of him suddenly tingling over me, and for a moment — for one brief moment, I find myself caught up in it all.

The handsome man, the easy smile, the perfect lips, the baritone voice that stirs something inside of me.

It’s all very easy to get caught up in. But suddenly, quickly, I remind myself who this man is, and I shake the silliness from my head.

“You’re right, he’s not,” I say quickly.

Rowan grins, turning to lean against the truck next to me.

“Not nearly as charming?”

“I was going to say not nearly as untruthful.”

He laughs. “What’s that mean?”

“It means Milton would never lie to his family about mysterious bruises on his face. He wouldn’t have mysterious bruises on his face from big scary guys, actually.”

“Well where’s the fun in that?”

“Rowan.”

“I didn’t lie to my family, there’s just no need to tell them.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t particularly enjoy making my family worry about me. Trust me, they’re better off without this one.” He nods at the bottle in my hand. “Are you seriously not going to touch that?”

I give him a look before bringing the bottle to my lips and taking a small sip.

“Atta girl.”

We stand like that, sipping the beers and leaning against the side of the truck for a moment.

“So, you know this guy? Milton?”

“I- sort of. He’s a little older. My father knows him through the church.”

“You’re not at all weirded out about having an arranged marriage.”

“It’s not-”

“It’s not like that, I know, you’ve said that once or five times. I just mean, in the normal world, you meet someone, you click, you get to know them, and get to know what works with each other. You settle into it, and then you get married.”

I look at the ground, picking at the label on the beer bottle in my hands.

I didn’t know Joseph at all. Not really. I don’t know what “clicking” with someone means. He was a strong member of the community and with the church, of course. He had his eye on seminary school.

I really don’t know much beyond that my father thought he’d be a good match.

And then, there are parts of marriage that…well. There are parts of the process I’m not exactly familiar with.

Mostly parts that have to do with the wedding night.

I blush at the thought. I should not be having thoughts like that or thinking about things like that around this man. Not when he’s standing so close to me like this.