by Karina Halle
We all sit down, order more beers, while the kids crawl around us. True seems fascinated with baby Ramona (though not in an evil way for once), and Ava, well, Ava is a smart girl and keeps her head buried in a book.
Soon the round of beers turns into another round of beers, and when I’m starting to feel pretty buzzed, I take a look around the pub and notice we’re the only ones in here.
“Guys, I think we drove everyone else away!” I cry out. I don’t blame them, we’re being especially loud and obnoxious, with someone laughing at any given moment.
“Aye, don’t worry about it,” the bartender yells at us. “They were no fun. I think you might need a free round of shots.”
“Woo hoo!” Linden yells, arms raised in the air like he just scored a touchdown. “Shots, shots, shots, shots.”
Ava looks up from her book and rolls her eyes, clearly embarrassed by everyone. Thankfully it’s normal in Scotland to have children in the pub at any given hour. They practically grow up in them.
The shots of whisky go around and we all raise our shot glasses across the table.
“Here’s to Lachlan,” I say.
“To Lachlan!” everyone else says in unison.
Bottoms up.
It’s not long after that the stragglers show up, their cousins, Mal and Maisie.
Mal is younger than most of us, I think mid-late twenties, but he’s a handsome lad like the rest of the McGregors, with some killer eyebrows that he works in a Theo James way. Maisie is just petite and sweet, brown hair, brown eyes.
I greet the both of them with a quick hug and they say hello to everyone else.
But with Lachlan’s practice coming to an end soon, we can’t afford to stay for another drink.
“Okay,” I tell them. “Last call for us. And I mean that, so drink up. We gotta go.”
The lovely thing about Lachlan’s family is that they all completely understand that he’s a recovering alcoholic and they try to support him in every way they can, which means when we have a party, there will be no drinking at all. Lachlan always says he doesn’t mind being around it, and that he can handle it, but it’s better to play it safe. He at least doesn’t mind people being drunk, which is good because I think a few of the jetlagged people are heading that way.
It takes a bit for everyone to gather their wits and their children, with Bram generously picking up the bill, and then we’re trudging through the snowy streets, the flakes still falling from the sky. Hopefully we’ll get there early enough to get ready, plus Keir and Jessica are supposed to be there any second (they live just around the corner).
I spot them standing outside of the building and wave at them.
They wave back and there it goes again, the whole hugging and slapping on the back and hey nice to see you of the reunion. Thankfully they all know time is of the essence (probably because I’ve been telling them to hurry the fuck up every five minutes during the walk. With a bunch of them drunk, it’s like trying to herd cats), and we go into the building, heading up the stairs to the flat that takes up the top floor.
Once inside, Emily and Lionel go crazy with their barking (well Emily barks, Lionel gets the zoomies and runs around), and I tell everyone to go dump their coats and shoes in the bedroom then get into their hiding places.
And then the adults try to explain to their kids once more what we’re about to do. Ava gets it, Ramona is just a baby and she’s sleeping in the stroller in the bedroom, so it’s really only True that’s being a bit of a rascal.
“True, I mean it,” Steph says to her. “When we hide, you have to be quiet. You can’t say a word, okay? No noises.”
“Okay,” True says in a sing-song voice.
Steph gives me a look like, we’re screwed.
And then I hear the front door bang shut down below.
“He’s here!” I hiss. “Everyone go to your places.”
They scramble like fighter jets.
Okay, here we go.
Two
Lachlan
Practice was a fucking bitch.
It’s not that we haven’t played through snow before, it’s just not a lot of fun. Your balls shrivel up, your chest screams, each hit and fall feels like it may just break your brittle bones.
On top of that, I made some blundering errors that really messed things up on my end and with our game next week I really need to get shit together. As the team’s captain, I don’t have an excuse.
Okay. I do have an excuse, but it’s what I don’t admit to anyone but Kayla, and that’s only because she knows me that well.
Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day.
And also my birthday.
And I fucking dread this day like no other.
It has nothing to do with getting older, I don’t give a fuck if the line between my brows is permanently creased, if my hair is getting peppered with grey at the temples, if my body isn’t as bulletproof as it once was.
It has everything to do with what my birthday symbolizes.
The utter rejection of my soul.
I know that’s some pretty deep shit and it does me no favors to dwell on it. But this time of year, the hole in my chest widens for a few days, letting all the bad grow inside me like a collapsing star. If I’m not careful, it will suck me and everything I’ve worked so hard inside, swirling around the drain.
I’m lucky that I have Kayla by my side, because without her, I know I’d be drinking my face off, lying on a street somewhere. She watches out for me, keeps me in line, and does it all with so much love that I think that hole in my chest might be repaired.
So, while I walk up the stairs to the flat, I’m not in the best of moods. I don’t mean to be a grump but it is what it is.
I get out my keys but the door opens and Kayla is standing there.
I don’t know what’s going on with her, but she radiates beauty more than normal.
“Hi,” she says brightly, her dark eyes gleaming, a manic smile on her face. “How was practice?”
“Fucking bollocks,” I tell her, stepping inside. I slip off my shoes, giving her the once over. Usually she’s in her leggings and cozy slippers until I get back from practice, one of her perks of working from home, but today she’s wearing jeans and a sweater, her hair down around her shoulders, and she has makeup on.
“Did you go somewhere?” I ask, hanging up my coat.
“No,” she says. Then her eyes go wide. “Yes. I mean yes. I did. I went to get coffee. See the snow, you know.”
Ah, coffee. That explains the crazy smile.
I grin at her, amused, and bend down to kiss her when I hear a giggle.
Like a full-on giggle of a child.
I pause, my eyes going round.
“Did you just hear that?” I whisper.
Kayla gives me a quick smile, shakes her head. “No. Hear what?”
“Hee hee hee.”
Fucking hell, there it is again!
“That,” I tell her. “A little girl laughing.”
Am I finally losing it or do we have a ghost in here? Or is the latter evidence of the former?
And then I see it.
See her.
A little girl runs out of the living room and into the bedroom, disappearing in a flash.
“What the fuck!” I exclaim, jumping. “There’s a fucking ghost child in the house!”
Kayla doesn’t even turn her head to look. “I don’t know what you’re talking ab—”
“Surprise!” The little girl leaps out from behind the wall and starts booking it for me, her mouth open like she’s about to take a chunk out of me.
“Ahhh!” I yell, jumping back until I’m against the wall.
Demon child!
Kayla swoops in and grabs the girl at the last minute and before I get a chance to even focus on what’s happening, suddenly the room explodes with people.
“Surprise!!” What sounds like a hundred voices all yell at the same time, with people popping up from behind the wall and the couch and the
kitchen, throwing their hands up in the air.
“Ahhh!” I yell again, my heart getting a better workout than it did at practice.
What the fuck is happening?
And then I see them.
Brigs and Natasha.
Bram! Motherfucking Bram and Nicola and her daughter Ava.
Linden too, bloody hell. Stephanie and of course now I realize the ghost child was True.
Then there’s Mal and Maisie, who I don’t see as often as I should.
And Keir and Jessica.
They’re all cheering and clapping and laughing, probably because I nearly just pissed my pants like a wee girl.
“What the…” I’m about to swear but remember I’m in the presence of children. “What the bloody hell are you all doing here?”
“Are you surprised?” Kayla asks, grinning at me.
“Fucking hell I am. I mean, whoops.” I give the kids an apologetic look, but Ava only rolls her eyes and True is terrorizing Lionel.
Then everyone comes over in an attempt at a giant group hug, which feels a lot like a scrum.
“It’s good to see you old boy,” Bram says.
“Happy almost birthday,” says Nicola.
“Geez, Lachlan, did your muscles get bigger,” Steph says, squeezing my bicep (I know she’s just being kind).
“Bet we’re the last people you expected to see,” Linden says.
“You’re right about that but I am glad you’re here,” I tell him, slapping him on the back.
“This was all Kayla’s idea,” Natasha tells me.
I glance down at my woman who looks beside herself with pride, though she’s trying to brush it off.
I put my arm around her and squeeze her to me. “You did this?”
“Of course,” she says, placing her hand on my chest and staring up at me. “Happy birthday Lachlan.”
Fucking hell, my wife is making my heart melt like it’s never melted before, until it’s just a puddle at my feet.
I feel everyone’s eyes on me but I don’t care.
“Thank you,” I say to her, my voice low, knowing that later tonight I’m going to show her my real thanks in a million different positions.
She knows it too, that’s why she gives me a saucy grin. “Now that the surprise is over, how about we have some fun?”
She heads off into the kitchen, Natasha and Jessica going with her, opening the fridge and bringing out the sparkling water.
It’s times like this that I usually feel pretty bad for being sober, since people are too afraid to drink around me. However, the group as a collective smells like beer, and the closer I look at them, the more I realize that they’re all at least a little buzzed. They must have been at a pub before this.
For a moment I feel like I’m missing out on that side of life, and I wish more than anything that I could just enjoy a drink or two without it escalating to more and ruining my life, but of course that’s not the case. It’s the hand I was dealt in life but I know I’ll continue to do everything I can to make sure it doesn’t own me.
Even when days like today are hard.
But, having my friends and family here like this makes everything that much easier. That black hole in my chest feeling brighter, lighter now, like the force of despair has lessened with their presence.
So Kayla gives everyone their sparkling water and we all start chatting, like I only just saw the lot of them yesterday.
Mal talks about a photography trip he just went on to Croatia.
Linden talks about his helicopter company.
Bram talks about the stock market of all things, boring as fuck usually, but entertaining when he does it.
Keir, well Keir and Brigs argue over vintage cars, which is par for the course for them.
Steph, Nicola and Natasha talk about babies and kids, while Jessica, Maisie and Kayla talk about everything else but babies and kids.
And me, well of course I talk about rugby, I talk about my Ruff Love animal shelter and non-profit and how the organization is expanding (with Kayla’s help of course), and I talk about the dogs, and the city, and everything else under the sun.
Before I know it, the whole lot of us have chatted for hours and the kids are starting to whine with hunger.
“We better head back,” Bram says to me. “Ava needs to eat.”
“And I am starving,” Steph says. “I didn’t even get to have lunch.”
“Whatever you do, try to stay awake until at least seven tonight,” Kayla reminds me.
“Yeah, yeah,” Nicola says through a yawn which then turns into a dismissive wave.
Everyone starts gathering up their stuff and their kids, promising they’ll be by tomorrow night for the real party.
“Real party?” I repeat, looking at Kayla.
“Surprise number two,” she says happily. “You know it’s not your birthday until tomorrow, so…”
Jesus, she’s really gone all out this year.
“Yeah, we’ll see you then,” Keir says, putting his hand on my shoulder before he leaves the flat along with everyone else. I can hear their laughter and chatter fill the building as they all head down the stairs.
I close the door and then practically collapse back against it.
My heart is so very fucking full.
“Kayla, love,” I say to her, my voice breaking. “I can’t begin to tell you what that meant to me.”
She gives me a soft smile and walks over to me, wrapping her arms around my waist and resting her chin on my chest, staring up into my eyes. “I think I know, baby.”
I shake my head. “You think you do, but honestly no words can describe it and I’m not even sure I can try.”
“You don’t have to try,” she says, closing her eyes as I cup her face in my palm, looking so small against my hand. “I know it,” she whispers.
“Well, if words fail me, I know there’s always another way.”
Her eyes open, this time the softness has dissipated. It’s been replaced with lust, making them swim with desire. “Oh, I know. I was counting on it.”
I grin at her, feeling myself get hard in a second at just the thought of what I’m about to do. I was feeling exhausted from all the surprises and talking until a few seconds ago, but now adrenaline is starting to flow through my veins, priming my system, making me feel like I’m just about to step onto the rugby pitch, which is often the case when I’m about to fuck my love’s brains out.
I lean down, holding her face in my hands, kissing her wet and hot and deep.
Then I’m picking her up in my arms and leading her to the bedroom, kicking the door closed with my foot.
Three
Kayla
Lachlan throws me on the bed like I’m a ragdoll, and I happily bounce along.
I fucking love it when he gets that look in his eyes, his usual intensity pushing over into feral mode, like he’s about to unleash the beast, his veins popping, his nostrils flaring. All he has to do is look at me and I’m already wet as fuck, knowing he’s about to give me something rough and wild.
He stands at the foot of the bed, pulling his shirt off over his head, displaying his intricate tattoos. His muscles are still pumped up from practice earlier, his abs clenching. I marvel at his body as I always do, because when you’re built like a motherfucking god, reverence is the only option.
And me, well I worship him in any way that I can.
And I do mean, in any way.
But something tells me I’m about to be on the end of receiving things right now.
“Get yer fucking clothes off,” he growls at me, his brogue getting thicker, “or I’ll rip them off of ye.”
I raise a brow. “What if I like option B better?”
“Then you can say goodbye to your panties.”
I grin at him, my body tingling in anticipation. I love all the different sides of Lachlan McGregor, but the lust-addled, panty-ripping variety is probably my favorite.
I help him out by removing my sweater and m
y jeans, and he does the same by stepping out of his track pants and briefs, until he’s completely naked, his cock jutting out, large and absolutely in charge.
It makes me pause for a moment, taking my time to ogle him like a good wife should, but he mistakes my distraction for disobedience.
He’s on me in a flash.
His massive, muscled body rising over me like a tsunami and I have no choice but to surrender to his strength. His large hands go around my waist, making me feel impossibly small, and he lifts me up further back on the bed, then roughly slides his palms down until his fingers curl around the lace of my underwear.
With a grunt, he gives them a vicious tug, the sides snapping in half.
“Panty-ruiner,” I say.
“I’ll ruin your bra next,” he says, his eyes latching onto my breasts.
I glance down. I’m wearing one of my most expensive favorite bras in lace and burgundy. No way in hell is he ruining that.
I give him a look, like hold your horses, and then sit up, quickly unfastening it behind me. I’ve barely been able to get it off when he snatches my bra from my hands then grabs my wrists, pinning them together above my head. He works quickly, using the bra to bind my hands together.
Holy shit.
He’s really going there.
I let out an appreciative gasp, keeping my hands above my head, arching my back and sticking my chest out, playing it up.
“Fuck me,” he murmurs, his voice richer than Scotch, then he dips his head over my breasts, his hands palming each one, feeling the weight of them. I have gained a bit of weight since coming to Scotland but I actually don’t mind since I finally have huge boobs and the soft bits seem to be just as appreciated.
And appreciate them he does. His wide, hot tongue licks up and around my nipple, wet and messy and insatiable.
I groan, pushing my tits into his face, wanting more, but unable to use my hands. I’m not a submissive person by any means but when I’m naked with him, he can tie me up and do whatever he wants to me and I’ll take it.