by Mari Carr
Wild Side
Wilder Irish, book nine
Mari Carr
For my family, who feed me, clean up around me, and take it in stride that Mom is probably only half listening when she’s at the computer writing.
Contents
Wild Side
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
Wild Night
About the Author
Wild Side
No strings attached? We were wrong. So wrong.
* * *
Layla moved to Baltimore in search of a fresh start. After too many years in a lackluster relationship, she’s ready to embrace her wild side. Casual is her new middle name and the last thing she wants or needs is a serious relationship.
* * *
Finn and his best friend, Miguel are ALL IN on showing Layla a good time. After all, neither one of them is looking for love either. Or so they think.
* * *
Until Finn falls for Layla and Miguel falls for Finn and Layla falls for...both men. Then it’s a wild side freefall as the three lovers try to make one plus one plus one equal the perfect match.
Prologue
Patrick Collins peeked in on the baby, checking to make sure Darcy was still sleeping before pulling the door closed and returning to his living room. His four-year-old granddaughter, Sunnie, had finally drifted off on his recliner, spread out like a starfish with one leg resting on the arm of the chair, the other dangling over the raised footrest. Her head was tipped back and her mouth hanging open. He’d turned on The Lion King for her and her big brother to watch while he put Darcy down.
Finn was still awake, though barely. His eyes were heavy and he was sucking his thumb, a sure sign he’d be asleep soon. Finn’s mother, Riley, was trying to break him of the thumb-sucking habit now that he was in kindergarten and his permanent teeth were starting to come in, but so far she’d had no luck.
Patrick had volunteered to keep his grandchildren overnight so his daughter and her husband, Aaron, could go out to dinner for their anniversary. He joined Finn on the couch, smiling when his sleepy grandson crawled over and curled up next to him. He lightly tapped on Finn’s hand as Riley had asked him to do whenever Finn started sucking his thumb.
Clearly that was Riley’s technique because the second he touched Finn’s hand, the young boy pulled his thumb out without comment or thought. The action brought to mind an old Irish folktale and it occurred to Pat, he’d never told his grandson the tale.
“Did I ever tell you the story of Finn MacCool?” Patrick asked.
Finn lifted his head. The boy loved a good story. “He has my name?”
“He does, indeed,” Patrick said. “And he was known as the greatest man in all of Ireland.”
“Why?”
“Oh, well, that’s a fine story. It has to do with a salmon and thumb sucking.”
Finn crinkled his nose. “I don’t like salmon. Mommy makes me eat it because it’s good for me.”
Patrick chuckled. “It is good for you.” Finn would exist solely on tater tots and chicken nuggets if he had his way. “And maybe you’ll change your mind when you realize that, in this story, the salmon—who was still alive and swimming around—had all the knowledge in the world.”
Finn was obviously unimpressed, and Patrick realized he was focusing on the wrong things. “Let me start over,” he said, beginning again. “Once upon a time, there was a brave warrior named Finn MacCool. It is said he was the best man that ever walked on the green grass of Ireland.”
“He was a warrior?” That had gotten Finn’s attention.
Patrick nodded. “One of the most courageous warriors ever. As the story goes, when Finn was just a young boy, he was hidden away from his family to protect him from them and sent to live with druids.”
“His family wanted to hurt him?”
“I’m sad to say they did. His grandfather didn’t approve of his daughter marrying Finn’s father.”
“So he had a mean Pop Pop who made him eat his green beans and let his sister watch that stupid princess movie instead of playing video games?” From the mischievous grin on his grandson’s face, it was apparent Finn was getting a kick out of teasing Patrick for all the things he’d done today.
Patrick chuckled, tickling Finn. “He did, ye wee rascal, so you best take care, lest we send you off to live with the druids as well.”
“What’s a droo—drood?”
“Religious leaders.”
Finn crinkled his nose again. “The Finn in this story had to sit through church every day? Not just on Sunday?”
Finn was not a fan of sitting still…in any environment. Though the preacher’s sermon each week appeared to be the most taxing on the lad.
“I suppose he did.”
“Poor Finn MacCool.” Finn rested his head on Patrick’s shoulder again. He was such an affectionate, clever young boy, always laughing, always happy. Patrick wrapped his arm around Finn’s shoulders.
“One day, he was fishing with one of the druids, when the older man caught the Salmon of Knowledge.”
“Did he make Finn eat it?”
Patrick ruffled the little boy’s hair. “Actually,” he started, “he told him not to eat the fish.”
Finn lifted a victorious fist in the air, the way he’d obviously seen the grown men in the family do whenever the Ravens scored a touchdown. “Yes! I like this droo…drood.”
“Don’t get too excited yet,” Patrick warned. “The druid told Finn not to eat the salmon because he wanted it, wanted the knowledge that he’d receive.”
“What’s knowledge?” Finn asked.
Patrick had wondered if his young grandson understood that part. “That’s the magic part of this tale. This salmon knew everything.”
“Everything? Like in the whole world?”
Patrick nodded.
“Did the salmon know how to play Super Mario? Could he beat all the levels?”
Patrick worked hard to keep a straight face as he said, “Absolutely.”
“Wow. Can salmon help me do that?”
Patrick was sorely tempted to tell the little white lie, simply to encourage his grandson to try healthier foods. Then he heard his beloved Sunday’s voice in his head, saying what she always used to say when their young ones wouldn’t eat their vegetables. “They’ll discover what they like and dislike in life on their own. Forcing them won’t change that.”
Still, he fudged a little. “I’m not sure it will help you beat all the levels, but…it might help. It is a brain food.”
Finn considered that. And immediately dismissed it. “I still don’t like salmon.”
Patrick chuckled. Score one for Sunday. Then he continued his story. “Regardless, you can see why the druid wanted to keep the salmon to himself. Beating all the Mario levels is a very important skill. So he charged Finn with cooking the fish, warning him not to eat it. Finn did as he was told because he was a good, honest, kind boy—”
“And because salmon is yucky.”
Patrick grinned at the interruption. “However, as he was getting ready to serve the fish to the old man, some grease got on him and burned Finn’s thumb. Because it hurt, he put his thumb in his mouth and sucked it. And what do you think happened then?”
“His mommy told him to stop?�
��
Patrick shook his head, fighting hard not to laugh. Finn was a rascal. “No. All that knowledge that the salmon had flew right into Finn’s head—and suddenly he knew everything.”
“Hooray for Finn! He got smart and he didn’t have to eat the fish. I like that story.”
Patrick ruffled his grandson’s hair playfully. “You wee scamp. You know, you aren’t that much different from that Finn who lived all those hundreds of years ago. You’re brave and smart and a good boy.”
Finn curled up on Patrick’s lap, resting his head on his chest sleepily. “You tell good stories.”
Patrick placed a soft kiss to the top of the boy’s head. “Thank you.”
“I’m going to be a great man too.”
Patrick smiled. “I’m certain you will be. The greatest man in all of Baltimore.”
Finn lifted his head, shaking it. “I can’t be that, Pop Pop.”
“Why not?”
“Because you are.”
Patrick’s heart swelled with love as he wrapped his arms around the young boy until he fell asleep.
He remained on the couch for a good hour afterwards, just holding Finn.
And smiling.
Chapter One
Finn balled up a piece of paper and lobbed it across the room, raising his hands and proclaiming, “Two points!” as he hit the trash can.
Fergus looked up from his computer and rolled his eyes. “Thought you were going to work on payroll today.”
Finn glanced outside the window and sighed. The sun was shining, but not hotly, as the humidity of summer had finally burned off. The sky was so bright and blue and cloudless, it made it impossible for him to sit inside. September had arrived and brought cooler weather that had him longing for nights by a fire pit, candy corn mixed with peanuts, and hot apple cider with caramel vodka. Fall was his favorite season.
“It’s too nice a day to be trapped inside.”
“You’re hardly tied to the chair, Finn. You can go outside whenever you want.”
“The problem with that is, you’re going to expect me to come back inside eventually.”
Fergus chuckled and started typing on his laptop again. Business at Collins Security had picked up in the past couple of months, thanks to Fergus. He’d served as Aubrey Summers’s bodyguard on her last tour, saving her life from a dangerous stalker. His cousin had impressed the powers-that-be at a large local concert venue, and they’d just landed a huge contract that placed Collins Security in charge of all their event security. As such, they’d been busting their asses the past few weeks, hiring and training staff, doing detailed analysis of the layout of the concert hall, searching for weaknesses in security.
Finn was thrilled that their business venture was turning out to be so successful. Before Fergus had returned from two stints in the Army, Finn had been wandering around somewhat aimlessly, clueless. He’d been pursuing a business degree, but he’d had no idea what he wanted to do with it. When Fergus suggested they go into business together, it had seemed like the answer to a prayer, and he loved basically being his own boss.
What he didn’t like was pulling six twelve-hour days a week. Or working inside on a beautiful fall day.
He looked outside once more and sighed.
Fergus didn’t glance up, though he clearly heard him. “Go across the street and get a cup of coffee. Take a break for a little while.”
Finn stood up and stretched. It was a good suggestion. Maybe he’d even take a stroll around the block a couple of times to soak up some vitamin D. “You want anything?”
Fergus shook his head and lifted his water bottle. “I’m good.”
Finn walked down the two flights of stairs, stopping briefly to say hello to a couple of women who worked in the real estate office on the floor beneath them, before stepping out onto the sidewalk.
They’d set up shop on the third floor of a business office near the waterfront. Fergus had liked the location, given its close proximity to downtown. Finn had liked that they were walking distance from his apartment above Pat’s Pub and the fact his favorite coffee shop was right across the street.
The bell above the door tinkled when Finn walked in, sucking in a long, deep breath of fresh-brewed coffee and pastries. Daily Grind had the best coffee in the city, and they made the most delicious scones he’d ever eaten, though he’d never tell his mother that.
Mom, along with his cousin Yvonne, was the chef at Pat’s Pub, the restaurant/bar his family had owned and operated for decades. Riley insisted that her scones were the best in the city, and Finn had enough sense not to contradict her.
Even though she was wrong.
He glanced at the handwritten specials to see what today’s featured coffee blend was. It was mid-morning and he was the only one in the place. The rush was over as everyone had already grabbed their early-morning jolt and headed on to work. The place would crowd up again at lunchtime because the coffee shop also sold wonderful sandwiches and wraps.
A woman walked out from the back, wiping her hands with a towel and smiling. “I’m sorry to keep you wait—Finn Young?”
Finn looked at the woman, his eyes widening when recognition dawned. “LJ?”
Layla Jean Moretti stepped around the counter as he lifted his arms, the two of them hugging. “Oh my God. No one has called me LJ since elementary school. I’m just Layla now. I haven’t seen you since…”
“Since we were eleven,” he finished for her. Layla had grown up since then—and he was blown away by how beautiful she was. Tall and lithe, with porcelain skin and chocolate-brown eyes, she took his breath away.
She’d always been the prettiest girl in their class, with her long, wavy brown hair and dark eyes, but that hadn’t really sparked his eleven-year-old boy interest. In elementary school, the only way Layla would have garnered his attention was if she’d been able to transform into a Pokémon.
“God, it’s great to see you.”
“How’s your dad? Your brothers?” he asked. He and Layla had been classmates right up until the summer after sixth grade, when her mother died of cancer and her dad packed up Layla and her siblings and moved them to Philadelphia, where he had family who could help him raise his five kids.
“They’re great. I mean, my brothers are still annoying-as-hell, overprotective bastards, but it’s not like that’s ever going to change.”
Finn laughed. Layla, like him, came from a very large, loud, boisterous family. She was the youngest and only daughter, which meant she had four big brothers who had doted on her, while she’d given them a run for their money. “So what you’re saying is, you’re still spoiled rotten.”
“Absolutely. As I should be.”
“What are you doing here?” Finn asked.
“I moved back and bought myself a coffee shop.”
“You bought this shop?”
She nodded. “Yep. The previous owner retired.”
“I had no idea Mr. Shepley was selling the business.”
“It wasn’t really advertised. He and my papa remained really good friends even after we moved. He visited us in Philly a few months ago and mentioned that he was thinking about selling the store and retiring to Florida. How cliché is that?” she joked. “Anyway, he and I struck up a conversation and made a deal. He never even put it on the market. Mama had set up a trust fund for me and my brothers before she passed, and I decided to take the money and escape Philly and the boys.”
Finn grinned. “Your brothers are great guys, LJ.”
“Of course they are, when you deal with them singly. But when all four of them get together, it’s hard work. I decided I needed a fresh start in a city where there weren’t four Moretti brothers breathing down my neck.”
“How long have you been back in Baltimore?”
“Four weeks. Spent the first two weeks finding and setting up my apartment, and the last two learning the ropes of the coffee business from Mr. Shepley.”
Finn had been in the shop only twice in the pas
t couple of weeks as he and Fergus had been working across town at the event venue, doing security checks. He hadn’t seen her or Mr. Shepley on those visits.
“How many times have your brothers visited since you moved?” he asked.
Layla laughed. “Three times. They’re insane. But I put the kibosh on their constant trips down here during the last visit. Told them the next time I was willing to see them was at Thanksgiving. Not that I expect that to stick.” She walked back around the counter. “What are you doing right now? Working? Have time to catch up over a cup of coffee?”
Finn nodded, and then pointed across the street to his office building. “I’ve got some time. I work right over there. Third floor. Started a security firm with my cousin, Fergus.”
“No way. That’s so awesome. So what’s your poison?” she asked, pointing to the menu.
“Coffee the way God intended. Black and strong with none of that fancy shit in it.”
Layla clutched her chest. “A man after my own heart.” She poured them both a cup of coffee. She added milk to hers, and then the two of them sat down at one of the tables.
“How’s your family?” she asked.
“Same as yours. Still crazy.”
“And your Pop Pop?”
“Still holding court at the pub, even though he’s retired. My uncle Tris and cousin Padraig run the bar now, and my mom is cooking up a storm on Sunday’s Side.”
Layla blew the steam off her coffee. “I love hearing that your Pop Pop is still doing well. Your family was the best. I’m going to have to swing by the pub to see everyone. Landon still around?”