Sin Worth the Penance

by M. J. Schiller

  “Oh, sorry.”

  “No bother.”

  I held up the balm. “Who would this belong to?”

  “That? Well, that’s Bridey’s.”

  Bridey? It was my cousin’s gal who kissed the living daylights out of me in the press?

  “Are ya going ta let go of my arm, Killian?”

  “Oh, sorry.”

  She rushed away, and I glanced up, my gaze raking the room. Bridey was at a table, her hand on the customer’s chair, leaning her hip against it and speaking animatedly. She threw back her head and laughed, then touched the woman on the shoulder, saying something in return. When she twisted to take in the comment from the customer to her left, I zeroed in on the ponytail bobbing behind her, reminding me her hair was black and curly.

  I twisted to eye Flynn. He was rolling ice around in his mouth, holding his glass, and yucking it up with one of his lads.

  Bridey mistook me for Flynn.

  I realized a man was staring at me. The man whose change I held in my fist.

  “Oh, sorry.” I handed it over. “Have a nice night.”

  He left, and I stared at my little storeroom seductress. My gaze roamed to her tush. Aye. It was her.

  My moment of fantasy was broken off by a customer hailing me from the end of the bar.

  Don’t I hate it, though, when reality crushes my fantasy world.

  I smiled, but as I headed down the bar, other thoughts came. Not as pleasant. I passed Flynn and company.

  She’s your cousin’s gal, ya letch.

  Not to mention the wave of guilt that hit me. I was being untrue to my own heart, my Jo. I know I was supposed to move on, but it still felt like a betrayal. I pushed the thoughts from my mind and threw myself into my work.

  Three hours passed in a flash. I was finishing a taste of Irish stew for a late dinner, when Nolan walked in. Flynn had disappeared during a rush, so the older man took his stool. I set him up with a drink but needed to leave to clear a table for Bridey. The other waitress hadn’t shown, and Bridey was trying to serve the whole bar, much to the dismay of the crowd she’d teased earlier. It seemed they were fond of her wit, and she was like a whirling dervish, not stopping long enough to chat. I’d seen Bre get frazzled with half the crowd, but Bridey seemed to take it in stride. It had begun to rain harder, though, and the bar practically cleared out, the dirty tables left behind reminding me of a fairground after closing. As I swept plates and cutlery off the wooden surface, I couldn’t help but hear a conversation at the next table. I didn’t intend to earwig, but the man was noisier than a backfire and plastered besides.

  “And that’s not even my biggest yacht. My baby, The Honey Pot, is back in Texas. Six-hundred feet long. Only Steve Jobs has a longer one.” He leered at Bridey as she passed.

  Someone else took up the conversation, twice as loud, and three times as bollixed. “I’d love to take one of these pretty Colleens to your yacht and show them how an American bangs a woman. I’d make their freakin’ Irish eyes smile.” They all laughed.

  The first man commented with a sigh. “She’s sure a looker. I need to get myself another wife. It gets pretty lonely on a yacht like that one.”

  I rounded the table as I wiped and got a good view of them. The first seemed like a decent enough fella, but his pal was clearly a dick. He commented, “Yeah. It’s good to have something regular if there’s a period where you can’t get any on the side.”

  Their laughter faded behind me as I walked away. But after a bit, my steps became slower as an idea popped into my head. I grinned. It could work.

  Nolan’s drink was empty.

  “You made quick work of that one.”

  “To be sure. It was easy on the ol’ pipes.” I began to fill his glass, then placed it in the taps’ gutter to settle before adding the second layer. I stepped over to Nolan and put my crossed arms on the bar as I leaned in. “See that fella there? The big one with the gray sweater?”

  He nodded. “The loud American sitting across from the even louder American?”

  “That’s the fella. I heard he’s got a boat as big as the River Liffy itself.”

  He rubbed his moustache. “Ya don’t say?”

  “Aye. And he’s taken a shine to your Tara, too.”

  “My Tara?”

  I nodded. “Met her at the market, I think he said.”

  “Oh.”

  “Too bad she’s engaged to Connor.” I raised my eyebrows and moved away. Nolan hadn’t let the man out of his sight since he heard about the yacht.

  “Well, now,” he said hurriedly. “She’s engaged, not married.”

  I topped his stout off. “True.” His wheels were turning. Twenty minutes later I glanced up and he was talking to the fella. Getting chummy.

  Sometimes it’s just too easy.

  I jumped when Bridey spoke, not realizing she’d come behind the bar to get a drink of her water. We stood hip-to-hip. “What are ya on about?” she said out of the corner of her mouth. She followed my line of vision.

  “Me?” I said innocently. “Not a thing.”

  She stood without speaking, crossing her arms and not taking her gaze from the table. “Are ya fleecing him?”

  “No. Why would you say that, woman?”

  She shrugged. “I was just curious.” She took in Nolan conversing with the American. The man had pulled up a seat for him to join his table. She shifted her gaze to me, turning her head slightly. “I see.” She flashed me a wicked smile and wandered away. An odd flutter began in my chest, and my groin tightened. Ignoring that fact, I cleared my throat and began to rapidly wipe the bartop, although it was clean. Bridey swung around the end of the bar and walked over until she was even with me. She stooped in such a way as I was forced to look at her. “You,” she pointed at me, “are up to some sort of shenanigans, and I’m going to find ya out.”

  She crossed the room and bent to squint at the surface of a table next to the Americans, the one I bussed. Like me, she took a rag from her apron pocket and swiped at an already clean area.

  The little devil. She’s earwigging.

  She glanced up at me with an evil smile.

  Well, she can listen all she wants, but she’s never going to find out what I’m trying to do.

  I opened a bottle of water and took a drink, leaning against the back bar and watching her. A minute later, she sauntered over, swinging her towel languidly by her side, and staring me in the eye the whole way. I straightened as she again came in line with me on the opposite side of the bar. She exhaled, flopping her rag onto a stool, grinning from ear-to-ear. Stepping up on something, she planted her elbows on the bar, her chin on top of her fists.

  “You’re trying to clear the way for Connor.”

  My jaw dropped. “How…?”

  She stepped down, sashayed to the end of the bar, looking at me over her shoulder. Coming around to my side, she strutted up to me. I turned square to her as she advanced. She touched one painted fingernail to my chin and pushed my mouth closed—which, unknown to me, I’d left open—then tilted her head. “You’re so cute when you’ve been bested, Murphey.”

  The way my name rolled off her tongue was tantalizing and familiar, as she used it in the pantry. She slapped my cheek lightly twice and shimmied into the hall to the kitchen. A light fixture in there was in need of repair, but I could still make her out until she entered the room beyont and took a left. I was certain she knew I was watching her.

  I exhaled and shook my head, refocusing on my glass washing. That gal was something.

  Too bad that something was my cousin’s mot.

  Chapter 3

  Bridey

  I turned in my order, but instead of making my way back out of the kitchen, I held up just beyont the hall, out of sight, my hand on the wall. I took a deep breath.

  Why am I flirting with Flynn’s cousin?

  It wasn’t like I didn’t flirt with men on a regular basis. It was my nature. But mostly I did it for fun, or to make Flynn jealous.
He tended to forget I existed at times. It hurt, though I wouldn’t let him know it. But he was being plenty attentive tonight. Even frisky. Why, then, was I playing around with Killian?

  I knew why. Because, even though I was mortified for mistaking him for Flynn in the pantry, and I’d never admit it to a soul…something happened in there. I couldn’t explain it. All I knew is he stirred something in me. Passion, if I were to be honest. Lust. Hard pounding lust. It was no sin. He was a handsome man, and his kiss was…undefinably good. But the flirting needed to stop before it tipped into something else. I took a deep breath and intended to walk on by Killian and not say another flirtatious word all evening. But as I moved along the hall, someone came out from behind a cloak and pushed me against the opposite wall, crushing their mouth to mine. For an instant, I thought it was Killian. But the kiss was different, and the alcohol content of this kisser’s breath would make it flammable.

  “Bridey, you drive me crazy.”

  He had his hands all over me. “Flynn, stop.”

  “Ya weren’t saying stop in my ma’s bedroom the other day.”

  His breath was tickling my neck, and I giggled, wriggling in his grasp. “Stop.” It was a tad too public of a place. Anyone could walk in on us. But I kissed him back, because my blood was pumping. Though it wasn’t exactly him giving it that effect.

  Then I realized someone was there. I shoved Flynn. “Oh, Killian.” My cheeks grew hot. “Sorry. We just…sorry.” I wasn’t quite sure what I was apologizing for, but I felt the need to do it.

  I couldn’t read his face in the dark, but his voice was cold. “Table four wants to order.”

  “Oh, I….” I tried to move, but Flynn still held me. I batted him away. “A table needs me,” I hissed, feeling hotter by the second. I got myself free and walked by Killian without looking up.

  After I took the order and returned to the bar area, Flynn was gone. I stopped by Killian on the way to the kitchen. “I’m sorry about earlier. I—”

  “No need, Bridey. He’s your fella. You weren’t doing anything wrong. Only a stepmother would blame ya.”

  “Oh. It’s just…I don’t like putting people in a spot where they might feel uncomfortable or awkward.”

  He smiled. “It’s fine. It doesn’t bother me.”

  My stomach dropped. “Oh.” What? Did I want him to be bothered by it? “Well, then. I’ll just go…put my order….” I spun on my heel and exited as quickly as possible. I was scarlet, for sure.

  But as the evening wore on, Killian got savage quiet. He hardly said a word to me while making the drinks for my tables. He smiled and was polite and all, but we’d lost some of the earlier camaraderie I’d enjoyed so much. He was definitely acting quare about stumbling into our makeout session.

  The next time I returned to the bar, Paddy was behind it and Killian was nowhere to be seen. I tried to sound casual. “Where’s Killian? Is he off?”

  “Nah.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “’He’s helping Tag with the dishes. He got himself bogged down, and Killian offered to dig him out.”

  “Oh.” Usually I was the only one who helped Tag like that.

  “Ya want me to run your order to the kitchen?”

  “Nah. That’s all right. I’ll take it myself.”

  When I entered the kitchen, they were talking about some rugby game. Side-by-side, elbow-deep in suds, discussing next week’s match. So cute.

  “Killian,” Tag ventured, “mind if I step out for a smoke?”

  “Nah. Go on with ya.”

  “Ya got an order, Bridey?”

  When he said my name, Killian peered over his shoulder quickly.

  I set my order on the end of the table. “It’ll wait, Tag. Go on and have your smoke.”

  Killian shifted his attention to the dishes. I hated awkwardness, and I was the kind of gal to address things head on. I waltzed over to the sink then spun so my back was to it and grasped the edge. He continued to work. I leaned backward.

  “Ya’ve barely spoken to me since ya caught Flynn and me in the coatroom.”

  He turned to look at me and started to speak, but I held a hand up.

  “Ya caught me in a compromising situation, and now you’re uncomfortable around me. So, the only way I see to remedy this problem, is for me to catch you in a compromising position.”

  He rocked onto his heels, and his whole stance seemed to relax, his lips quirking to deny the frown he put on his puss. “Is that so?”

  I nodded. “Aye. It is.”

  “And how do ya expect to do that?”

  I boosted myself onto the counter, although I got my jeans wet in the process. “Well,” I ran my gaze along the spray hose hanging above the sink, from bottom to top, “the way I see it, you can either kiss Tag when he comes in, or,” I grabbed the hose, “let me spray ya with this hose.”

  He crossed his arms, dropping suds on the floor. “And those are my only two choices?”

  I acted like I was thinking. “Aye. They’re the only two.”

  “’Cause—” He took a step closer to me, and I aimed the nozzle defensively. “—the way I see it, there’s a third choice.”

  “Which is?”

  “It’s to—” He sprang forward, and I squealed, leaning back, pulling one leg onto the counter, and letting him have it. “—wrestle ya for it!” he shouted. We grappled with the hose, but it was slippery and we both were getting wet.

  “Stop it!” I laughed.

  A throat was cleared behind us. We ceased our tomfoolery and turned as one. Tag stood in the doorway to the alley with his arms crossed. “You two are messing up my kitchen.”

  “It was her fault.”

  “’Was not.”

  Killian frowned.

  “Aye. It was. But I—” I wrenched the hose from him and shot him right in the puss. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean ta.”

  He stretched the bottom of his T-shirt up to wipe his face, revealing god-like abs. “The hell ya didn’t.” He laughed. “Give. Me. That.”

  He grabbed the hose, and I slid off the counter, waving my hands in front of me protectively. “Well, at least it’s not—” I carefully circled away from him, getting a table between us. He didn’t take his gaze off me. “—awkward between us anymore.” I made a dash. He shot. I ducked. And the water hit Tag square in the chest. I laughed and ran out of the kitchen. Killian’s apologizing to Tag grew fainter as I neared the front. I burst out onto the bar floor wet, out of breath, and beaming.

  Paddy’s eyes widened. “Ya’re wet as rain, gal. What the crap happened to ya?”

  “Not a thing.” I slipped past him and out to the dining area to check on my customers.

  Killian

  Seeing Bridey in Flynn’s arms did set me aback, but not for the reason she thought. It didn’t make me feel awkward, it made me unhappy. I’d been having my own amorous thoughts about Miss Bridey, when I had no right to. I told myself that was the end of that and vowed to think of her no more.

  Kinda hard to do when she threatened me with a hose. I liked her. Pure and simple. She was fun, and I missed fun. It had felt like I would never be happy and light again, but she proved it was possible. I was grateful to her for that. So we’d be friends. Pals. And no more.

  The next time she came up with a drink order she smiled, but let on she was being all professional-like. I worked at the drinks. “Can ya tell me something, Miss Bridey?”

  She studied me. “Perhaps.”

  “How’d ya know I was trying to ease things for Connor?”

  “Because the way ol’ Nolan Duffy was carrying on about his Tara, I ’bout had a mind to marry her myself.”

  She walked away.

  “I’d like to see that,” the customer on the end stool said.

  I looked at him. “What?”

  “Tara and Bridey together.”

  I threw my towel at him but smiled. “Dirty old man.”

  I moved down to help some other customers but needed to return for the
ir order twice because the images of some woman with Bridey were desperately distracting.

  About an hour before close, I caught Nolan walking out with the rich American, carrying on an intense conversation. The others from the table came to sit at my bar, which was nearly empty. When Bridey drew near, they called her over.

  “Is there something I can do for ya, fellas?”

  They exchanged glances and smirked. The loudest one answered. “Oh, there definitely is something you can do for me.” He yanked her against him.

  I’d been relaxing, leaning against the back bar, but I straightened, my jaw tightening reflexively. But before anything could happen, Bridey took a hold of his wrist, spun under his arm, and twisted it behind him. “Touch my ass again,” she hissed, “and I’ll give ya such a pruning ya’ll walk gammy for weeks.” She shoved off him and continued around the bar.

  “Ooh,” he and his friends hollered. He added, “A little spitfire. Damn that’s hot.”

  Bridey came near me. I took her shoulders, still eying the Americans for a few seconds. “You all right?” I asked low enough for only her to hear me.

  She nodded but didn’t meet my gaze. She gestured with her head. “I need to get some cutlery.” She moved around me.

  I glared at the Americans, getting hotter under the collar as each moment passed.

  “Ooh, ooh,” the loud one said, standing on the rungs of his stool so he could watch her ass as she disappeared into the hall. “Bridey, Bridey, you’d be worth the ride-y.” His friends murmured their agreement. “I’d like to see her Irish eyes smiling up at me from her knees.”

  I stepped forward, grinding my teeth. “You get out.”

  He blinked. “What?”

  “Ya heard me, get out. We don’t need your business.”

  “What’s it to you, spud?” He stood, sticking his ugly puss toward me, the muscles in his neck pulsing. “You gonna make me?”

  “I damn well am.”

  I musta appeared terrible fierce, because he backed down. He put his hands up, palms facing me to fend off my attack. “Okay. Okay. We aren’t looking for any trouble.” They hustled out the door.