Page 42 of Soulless Saint

I barely noticed Kate taking my place at the till, swiping up Aodhán’s bill to deposit in the cash drawer and pull out his change.

“Keep it,” he insisted and she blushed, dropping the change into the tip jar.

“And he’s generous, too.”

Aodhán glanced up at the clock. “Will your boyfriend be picking you up?” he asked me with a challenge in his stare. “I’d like to meet him.”

“Boyfriend?” Kate laughed, and I gave her a hard look. “Becca doesn’t have a—”

The bells rang again, cutting Kate off, thank fuck.

But I would not being thanking fuck for the fuckery it just deposited on the welcome matt.

Could this day get any more exhausting?

Hardin entered the cafe, his black eyes fixed on Aodhán, jerking between us as if he were accusing me of something, which was ridiculous because I barely knew him. Unless you counted an intimate knowledge of what his lips and fingers felt like when they were pressed to various parts of me.

Hardin approached the counter, pausing just shy of where Aodhán stood as if waiting for him to move out of the way.

Aodhán didn’t budge, nodding to the empty slice of counter next to him where Kate would surely be glad to help him.

Still, Hardin didn’t move. He stared at Aodhán in a way that made my skin prickle, second-hand fear for my new Irish friend making my blood chill with dread.

“Your usual, Hardin?” Kate asked, her tone light and hesitant, the way you might speak to a wolf to avoid being eaten alive.

His heavy glare didn’t waver so much as an inch as he nodded once, slowly. Kate rushed away to pour him his plain drip, black. She grabbed a to-go cup, but Hardin let out the tiniest of growls and she paused with a little “Sorry, Hardin” before fingering a warm mug from the top of the espresso machine instead.

“I saw you talking to your brother in here the other day, so I know you’re not mute,” I found myself blurting, crossing my arms over my chest. “Which means you’re fully capable of apologizing for the other night.”

His dark irises slid to mine, a vein jumping in his temple where there was a smear of something red near his hairline. Was that… was that blood?

My lips parted, realizing the smear on his forehead wasn’t the only place red stained on his skin. There was deep red in the cracks of his knuckles. Spattered lightly over the shirt he wore beneath his leather jacket.

Oh god.

I swallowed, struggling to pull my gaze free from Hardin’s only to find Aodhán smirking at him. The guy must’ve had a death wish.

“See you around, Aodhán,” I said, keeping my voice as level as I could while Kate returned with Hardin’s coffee.

Aodhán’s brows lowered, confused at my not so subtle hint for him to leave before they shot back up, as if he’d just figured something out.

“Ah,” he said, straightening from his leaning stance on the counter, gesturing to Hardin with his to-go cup. “You must be the lucky guy.”

“No, he’s not—”

“It’s okay,” Aodhán interrupted, something about his speech sounding odd to my ears. Flat. He cast another wink in my direction. “I can take a hint. ’Night.”

He saluted Hardin, taking his leave, the big oaf still just standing there at the counter, coffee in hand. Watching me.

Despite the fresh blood on his hands, I couldn’t help the lick of indignant fury coiling up my spine, hot enough to burn away any remaining dread.

“What the hell are you staring at?” I all but shouted, my frame expanding with hot air. “You can’t just walk in here and scare away the customers, okay? That’s my job.“

His teeth clenched behind his stupid lips.

“Are you really not going to say anything?”

“Becca,” Kate called uneasily from somewhere off to my right. “Just leave it alone. Hardin, that’s on the house. Sorry for my—”

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