All Our Luck: Complete Irish Reverse Harem Series

by Roxanne Riley

  This town is definitely not like home. But, oddly, I feel more at home here than I’ve ever felt anywhere.

  I end up telling them a childhood story about Daniel getting knocked arse over teakettle by a ram at a petting zoo and James nearly does a spit-take, his face going bright red as he struggles to choke down his mouthful of orange juice.

  “Remember the incident with the badger?” Chris asks me.

  James groans.

  “We all remember it, let’s not discuss it,” he pleads.

  I crack up. “Oh, my gosh, I’d forgotten about that!”

  James sighs. “Damn it.”

  They had spent the night at my place one of the nights they’d been in Ireland, and when he was pouring himself a cup of coffee, a half-asleep James had heard scratching at the door. Assuming I had a dog or a cat that needed to be let in, he had opened the door and let a badger loose in my house.

  “It took us four hours to coax him out from under the couch!” Chris crows, laughing.

  “You would have done the same thing if you were me,” James complains.

  Tears of laughter stream down my cheeks. The phone rings and I try to quiet my giggles so Chris can answer it.

  The mirth melts from his face so instantly that I stop laughing. He looks at me, a mix of puzzled and angry, and after a moment, he offers me the phone. “It’s for you. It’s…your husband.”

  I recoil from the receiver as if it’s a rattlesnake. The last thing in the world I want to do is answer that fucking phone, but I gather my courage and reach out a trembling hand for it, standing up to move so the cord won’t stretch across the table. “Hello?”

  “You really thought I wouldn’t find you, you selfish, ungrateful harlot?” Brogan’s familiar voice comes through the receiver, “I told you, you’re not getting away from me that easily.”

  I don’t know how he tracked me down, especially not this fast, but rather than making me cower as they normally would have, his words just piss me off. “What do you want, Brogan?” I ask, my tone clipped.

  He sputters in disbelief. “I want your spoiled arse home right this minute, Molly!” he roars, “You don’t just get to throw some papers on the table and leave my sons with your brother so you can run away and shack up with some man in another country!”

  I ache to tell him that it’s not just “some man,” but I bite my tongue as he continues his tirade.

  “You are my wife, and you vowed to honor and obey me, and I demand that you come home this instant!”

  Throwing vows in my face sets me over the edge and I blow up.

  “Fuck you, Brogan!” I shout, startling both James and Chris. “If I recall, you vowed to be faithful, and we both know that was a load of shite, so don’t you dare try and tell me I’m in the wrong. And don’t pretend you even want me to come home after the way you threatened me. You wouldn’t give a rat’s arse if I hadn’t wounded your pride. So sign the fucking papers and let’s be done with pretending we want anything to do with each other.”

  He is silent for a long time, shocked by my outburst. Even when I was still bold enough to confront him or argue with him, I’d never dared to be so vulgar and angry. “You stupid little whore, you won’t get away with this. You belong to me-”

  I slam down the phone, my hands trembling with rage.

  The ugly silence that follows is deafening, with neither James nor Chris seeming to know what to say. I feel sick, and my face is still hot with rage. I sit back down at the table, and to my horror, my eyes sting with hot tears.

  James reaches out and wipes away the tear that falls down my cheek. “I’m not crying over him,” I say quickly, not wanting them to think for a single second that I care about this asshole, “I just- it feels like I can’t get away. Part of the reason I came all the way here was to try and hide out from him,” I confess.

  “I can’t believe he found me so quickly. And I miss the boys so much,” a sob rips out of me.

  Chris wraps his arm around me and drops a kiss on the top of my head. “It’s all right, Moll,” he says softly, “You’re allowed to be upset, you don’t have to explain yourself to us.”

  I wipe fiercely at my eyes. “No, I don’t want to let him take even a minute more of my happiness,” I say firmly, “I won’t.”

  “Well, we were talking about taking you into town to look around, I bet that’ll blow him right out of your mind,” James says with a hint of forced cheer.

  I nod. “That sounds good,” I push off from the table and get up. “I’ll go get dressed.”

  They seem to sense my need for a moment alone and they both nod.

  “We’ll clean up down here,” James says, standing as well and kissing my cheek.

  I smile at them both and head upstairs. I duck into the bathroom and splash my face with cold water, and it soothes me quickly. My racing heart and trembling hands have finally calmed, and I will myself to push Brogan from my mind completely. There’s nothing he can do to me now, I’ll never see him again.

  When I’ve changed and pulled myself together, I head back downstairs. Chris and James have already cleaned up, and since they both got dressed before breakfast, we’re ready to go.

  We pile into James’ truck, with me sandwiched between them and sitting awkwardly sort of half-sideways to keep the gear shift from smashing my knees.

  “I know where we have to go!” James says, turning an abrupt right that makes Chris and I squawk in surprise.

  He pulls into the lot for an ice cream shop. I laugh.

  “James, it’s like 9 AM, we just had breakfast! Besides, there’s no way it’s open this early.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” he says firmly, “First of all, there is always room for ice cream, and second of all, time is irrelevant when it comes to Meltdown ice cream. It is 100% acceptable any time of day or night, which is why they are indeed open right now.”

  To my surprise, Chris nods in agreement. “It’s true.”

  Well, if Chris, the practical one, feels this way, it must be true.

  I laugh and the three of us enter the little shop.

  We come out several minutes later, and the boys have talked me into a ridiculously tall ice cream cone, insisting that I had to try all of the best flavors. I’d had to talk them out of several, to try to tone down the massive amount of sugar I was about to consume. Both of them have cones stacked even more comically high than mine.

  But they are right. This ice cream is an experience. I’ve never had anything like it, and upon seeing the rapturous expression on my face, they both give me this knowing look that makes me laugh.

  James drops the tailgate on the truck and we all climb up and sit in the bed of the truck to enjoy our 9 AM ice cream.

  Somehow, both of them still beat me in devouring their ridiculous desserts. But they seem to enjoy watching me slowly work my tongue around the cone and lick any drips off my fingers.

  I may have teased them by getting a little provocative with the ice cream cone.

  Until James finally glares at me and tells me that if I don’t stop, they’re going to fuck me right here in the bed of his truck in the middle of town.

  Giggling, I tone it down as I finish off the cone. The twins help me down out of the truck bed and lead me down the road. We pass a handful of small shops, and when I see an antique shop, I drag them in.

  They look around a bit and I see a section that lifts my mood even higher. The corner of the antique shop hosts an assortment of vintage cartoon and comic character paraphernalia. My eyes light on a couple of Betty Boop items.

  I move closer to look. There’s an alarm clock, a lunch box, and a Pez dispenser. There are a number of other things that look interesting, but I’ve always loved Betty Boop, and the three items draw me. A peek at the price tags, however, definitely has me leaning toward the Pez dispenser.

  The guys approach, flanking me on either side.

  “Oh, wow, I remember some of these,” James says, smiling as he flips through a bin of vintag
e comics.

  “Whatcha got there, darlin’?” Chris asks me.

  I hold up the Pez dispenser.

  “I’ve always loved Betty Boop,” I explain, “I don’t know why. But because she was apparently this big sex symbol, my da forbade the cartoons or anything in the house. I only ever got my fix at friend’s houses,” a bittersweet smile drifts across my face.

  The brothers both nod.

  “When I was nine, a boy in school had a crush on me, and gave me a Betty Boop card on Valentine’s Day,” I say, smiling in reminiscence. “I treasured that little piece of cardboard for years. Tucked it into my journal and hid it under my bed.”

  I laugh at the memory.

  The boys chuckle.

  “I’m gonna go buy this,” I tell them, holding up the little candy dispenser. “I’ll meet you at the truck?”

  They nod and I go to make my purchase. While I wait for the boys to finish up, I admire my little prize. It’s a little thing, and silly, but it feels like just one more act of rebellion, taking me further and further from my father’s choices for me.

  The boys finally step out of the shop with gleeful expressions on their faces and their hands behind their backs. I raise an eyebrow.

  “What’s with you two?”

  “We both have a surprise for you,” Chris says.

  They thrust out their hands, and it makes my heart melt to see that in Chris’ hands is the Betty Boop lunch box, and in James’ sits the alarm clock.

  Tears well in my eyes. Their glee is palpable, and the fact that making me smile is so important to them crushes the breath from my chest. The really do love me, and I love them more than words can say.

  I hug them both, hard, and the words escape me before I can stop them.

  “I love you both,” I whisper.

  There’s no hesitation. Both of them squeeze me tighter and tell me they love me, too.

  All I want to do is get them back to the ranch and jump their bones, and I tell them so. They lead me back to the truck, and the ride home definitely gets pretty handsy. In fact, I’m still tingling from an orgasm after Chris had his hand down my panties when we pull up to the house.

  To my surprise, there’s an unfamiliar car in front of the house.

  “Expecting guests?” I ask them.

  They shake their heads, brows furrowed. “I don’t recognize that car,” Chris says.

  We pull up closer to park, and a glance at the porch makes my heart sink and my stomach roil. Someone all too familiar is sitting on the porch, his toad-like face nearly purple in his anger.

  “Who the fuck is that?” James asks, bristling.

  “That would be Brogan… my ex-husband,” I say quietly.

  Chapter Eleven

  James

  Molly’s face is stark white. “He really did find me,” she whispers.

  I exchange a look with Chris, and we storm out of the truck in unison. Molly scrambles out after us, begging us not to let this get too ugly. We try to block her off, but she pushes past us, standing slightly between us and Brogan.

  “Can we help you, sir?” Chris asks, his voice clipped.

  Brogan stomps up to us, his fists clenched at his sides.

  “Which one of you pricks is nailing my wife?” he snarls. “Which one of you is this little slut sinning with?”

  Chris reminds me of a cobra, coiled and ready to strike, but Molly preempts his explosion. “You tell me how awful I am, what a sinning, vile whore I am, but just because you heard I’ve moved on, you want to drag me back by my hair like a caveman to be your little wife again? And where the hell are the boys, don’t tell me you dragged them along on your crazy crusade?”

  The toad’s face turns purple. “You gave up the right to ask about them when you abandoned them with your brother,” he spits.

  Molly recoils as if he’s slapped her, and I can see the words have wounded her.

  Chris’ face twists into a snarl “Running for her life isn’t abandonment. And as a matter of fact, we’re both in a relationship with your ex-wife,” he drawls.

  Brogan’s jaw drops. “You really are just the filthiest kind of harlot, aren’t you?” He spits at Molly.

  I’m ready to strike, but Molly reaches back to lay a reassuring hand on one of my arms and one of Chris’.

  “I’m in love, Brogan,” she says simply, shrugging. “These two have shown me what love can be.”

  “You make me sick,” he chokes out. “You’re a filthy, sinful, disgusting whore.”

  “So leave, you slimy, disgusting hypocrite,” she snaps, “Leave me here where I want to be, sign the papers and be rid of me for good.”

  Brogan raises a hand, ready to slap her, and my hand snaps out to grip his wrist.

  “You’re gonna wanna step the fuck away,” I growl, “Or things are gonna get ugly.”

  “You’ll burn in hell for this, you filthy animals,” Brogan tells me and Chris. “You will regret this, taking my wife and corrupting her with your vile ways.”

  Molly starts laughing, a high, hysterical sound.

  “So it was my fault, I’m the scheming, sinful witch, until a man is in the picture and suddenly I’m a helpless, empty-minded damsel who can’t think for myself? Make up your mind, Brogan,” she taunts.

  Her mockery enrages him further, and this time he lunges. Chris and I throw our shoulders into his chest, knocking him to the ground. He sputters and squirms like a bug stuck on its back until he manages to get back to his feet. He swings again, and all hell breaks loose.

  It all moves so fast I can’t see whose fists are where, and the adrenaline numbs me, but after a whirlwind of limbs and angry shouts, Brogan is back on the ground, blood trickling from a busted lip and bruises already forming all over his face. Chris hardly looks disheveled, and I don’t imagine I’m in any worse shape.

  “Molly belongs with us,” I say, “And the second she is free of you, we’re going to marry her and help her get custody of those boys.”

  I can see Molly’s jaw drop in shock out of the corner of my eye, but Chris simply nods in agreement.

  Brogan spits a mouthful of blood, gagging on it. “I’ll never sign those fucking papers, and you’ll never see my sons again,” he wheezes, glaring at Molly, “And even if I did sign, you degenerates will never have a real marriage.”

  Chris loses his temper and his fist flies across Brogan’s face. “You’ll sign those fucking papers, and you’ll stay the fuck out of her life,” he seethes.

  “Never,” Brogan repeats, “And I’ll sue you sleazy arseholes for every dime for this.”

  I snort “The fuck you will. You swung first, so this is self-defense. Not to mention that we have proof of you being cheating, wife-beating trash. You’ll be laughed out of any courthouse you try.”

  This is enough to still Brogan. His fists clench and unclench in rage as he mulls this over.

  “Fine,” he finally grits out, “I’ll sign the damned divorce papers. The three of you can burn in hell for all I care. There’s no curing this kind of filthy sinner,” he spits another mouthful of blood, this time in Molly’s direction.

  I take a step toward him and Molly grabs me stopping me.

  “It’s over,” she whispers. “Get out of here, Brogan. Go home, sign those papers, and stay the hell away from me and my loved ones. But don’t think this is over. This ends when the boys are with me.”

  Brogan staggers to his feet and drags himself to his car. Muttering curses all the while, he slams the door and with a glare of pure fury, he drives off.

  When his car is far enough down the road that we can no longer see a trace of him, Molly throws herself into our arms. “Thank you,” she whispers, her voice shaking, “Thank you both for setting me free and saving me,” tears spill down her cheeks as she rambles, “I love you both so much, and I can’t wait to be your wife.”

  “We’re going to make you our wife, baby,” Chris says firmly, “And we’re going to get your boys back and we’ll be one big, happy f
amily.”

  Epilogue

  Molly

  It’s a few weeks later when I’m coming down the stairs, butterflies flitting through my insides. The soft white lace of my wedding dress swishes around my legs, ending a few inches below my knees. On my feet are a new pair of cowboy boots with a hint of red embroidery that matches the shining satin ribbon sash around my waist.

  We know this isn’t a legal marriage, but this is our own way to celebrate our commitment to each other and make me their wife, even if it’s only in our own eyes.

  As far as legal proceedings go, the three of us have been talking to a lawyer about trying to get custody of the boys. I’ve written letters and tried to call them, but Brogan is fighting me at every turn. But I’m hopeful that I can get them back. I know they would just love it here, running through the fields and playing with the animals.

  And so with a hopeful heart, the three of us decided to take the next step toward completing our little family.

  James and Chris are out in the field, waiting for me in their best suits. I resist the urge to run to them, but my pace is quick as I walk to meet them. Chris hands me a bouquet of flowers from his garden, melting my heart.

  There’s no officiant, no witnesses. This is just for us. Well, and some of the livestock are out grazing nearby, I guess they’ll be our witnesses.

  We didn’t really plan what to say, opting instead to make our own vows, and I can’t get through the tumble of words describing my love for my husbands without crying. And while they struggle to keep up the macho facades, I can see the faint glimmer of tears in both of their eyes, too.

  Every word from their mouths burns its way into my brain, and I know that I’ll want to scribble them all in my journal, to keep them for myself forever. And the love between us feels like a living, breathing thing, only growing and getting deeper and more intense as we vow to take care of each other until the end of time.