Faking It (McCullough Mountain)

by Lydia Michaels

“Please don’t mention any of this to my family.”

  “Of course not.” He kissed her hand. “This is just between us.”

  * * * *

  They reached Center County just before dusk. The GPS kept losing its signal as Sheilagh predicted, so she provided directions the rest of the way.

  Alec steered the car onto a dirt road lined with trees and as they traveled further up the windy path, a log cabin crept into view. “That’s it,” she said, practically bouncing in her seat.

  “It’s lovely.”

  She sighed. “My dad built it.”

  His brows shot up. “Really?”

  “Yup. Right after my grandfather shot him.”

  “Your grandfather shot your father?”

  She waved the comment away. “It’s a long story. Park over there, next to the truck.”

  He pulled beside an old battered Chevy and shut off the car. “Ready?”

  “The question is are you ready? When I said my family was nuts I don’t think you really grasped the veracity of my assertion.”

  He was sure they were a completely normal family, thus a little quirky in their own way. He smiled reassuringly then stilled. “Um, there’s a woman on the porch aiming a shotgun at my Beemer.”

  She turned and laughed. “That’s my mum. She doesn’t know your car.” Her finger pressed the button and the tinted glass lowered. “Ma! It’s me! Put the gun back!”

  “Sheilagh? Oh! I thought it was some lost drug lord in that fancy car.” She lowered the weapon. “Who’s with you?”

  Sheilagh opened the door and gave him a nod. “Showtime.”

  He followed her out of the car and waved. Her mother, a robust woman with faded red hair, frowned at him. He dropped his hand.

  He followed Sheilagh up the steps and she announced, “Mum, this is Alec. He’s a friend of mine from Princeton.”

  “He’s a wee bit old to be in college, love.” Lowering her voice—not by much—she whispered, “Is he slow?”

  “Ma!”

  Alec had seen and heard enough. He approached the woman and held out a hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. McCullough.”

  “He’s a Brit!”

  Sheilagh lowered her face into her hands and groaned. “Alec, meet my mother.”

  Sheilagh’s mother attempted a smile, but it seemed more like a nervous twitch. “Well, come in, come in.”

  Dropping his hand again, he followed the two women inside. The house was incredible. Exposed wooden walls, rustic furniture, it was definitely lived-in.

  The large kitchen had a long farm-style table. “Your father should be back from the lumberyard soon. Dinner’s almost done.”

  Sheilagh went to the stove and lifted the lid off a steaming pot. She breathed in the aroma, which he couldn’t place, and sighed happily. “I’ve missed your food, Mum.”

  Her mother smiled and smacked her hand off the lid. “Not until your father gets here. Go wash those grubby paws. I tell you, we’ve grown used to having the house to ourselves. It’ll be interesting having company again. I’ll have to remind your father to keep it down at night. Turns out an empty nest brings out the wild beast in him.”

  Sheilagh stilled at the sink. “Eeew.”

  “You should be grateful, dearie. With divorce the way it is nowadays, you’re lucky to have parents who still enjoy each other’s touch.”

  “Please stop,” Sheilagh said in a monotone voice. “Before I have to find a carving knife and gouge out my mind’s eye.” She dried her hands and came to retrieve him from where he stood by the entrance to the kitchen. “Do you want something to drink? Sometimes being drunk around the family helps.”

  “Oh! Do you want some whisky, Alex? I have some right here.” Sheilagh’s mother opened the cabinet under the sink. He spotted blue window cleaner and several bottles of Tullamore Dew.

  “It’s actually Alec,” he corrected.

  “What’s that, Alex? Shei, get your friend a cup.”

  Yeah. Maybe whiskey would help.

  He watched as the woman poured a mug full of whiskey and slid it to him. He didn’t usually partake in whiskey, but he sipped it anyway.

  “So, how is it you know my daughter, Alex? Are you in classes together?”

  “Alec, Mum, not Alex.”

  “Ah, we had one class together, but Sheilagh’s roster changed.”

  “So you’re a student? You must be taking some of those postgraduate classes, being that you’re so much older. How old are you, if you don’t mind me askin’?”

  “Mum, why didn’t you tell me Kate was pregnant?” Sheilagh interrupted, giving him a surreptitious wink.

  “Did I forget to mention that? You know me. I’ve got so many grandbabies now it’s hard to keep track.” She turned and smiled at him. “This will be my tenth.”

  “Eleventh, Mum,” Sheilagh corrected.

  Her mother stilled and glanced at the ceiling. “Eleven? Is that right?”

  Sheilagh quickly ticked off names on her fingers. “Skylar, Hannah, Frankie, Michaels, Tallulah, Liam, Declan, Lachlan, Gianna, Nate, and now this one. Eleven.”

  “Goodness! No wonder I’m tired.”

  “Maureen? Whose fancy car’s in the driveway?”

  Alec looked to Sheilagh at the sound of a man’s deep voice. Her face split with a grin and she whispered, “Daddy.” Her body bolted out of her chair and ran to the door. “Daddy!”

  “Hey! My little Shei-Devil!” When they returned to the kitchen, the man had his arm around Sheilagh’s shoulder as she leaned into him. He was a large man with thick arms covered in worn, red plaid flannel.

  He approached his wife and slapped her right on the ass. Sheilagh’s mother hiccupped a gasp and giggled.

  Sheilagh scrunched up her face. “You guys are gross.”

  Her father turned. “So tell me all about Jersey—” His smile fell as his eyes locked with Alec’s. “Who are you?”

  Alec stood and held out his hand. “I’m Alec Devereux. I’m a friend of your daughter’s.”

  The man scowled at his hand and crossed his thick arms over her barrel chest. “Define friend.”

  Once more, Alec dropped his hand and swallowed. Maybe this hadn’t been the best idea.

  Sheilagh smacked her father in the arm and got his attention. “Dad, Alec’s a good guy. Be nice.”

  “I have guns,” Mr. McCullough said.

  “Yes, your wife showed me,” Alec said, his laugh falling away as Sheilagh’s father’s eyes narrowed.

  He did quick math in his head. Sheilagh said her eldest sister was thirty-five. That made her parents approximately in their mid-fifties, early sixties. Alec was somewhere in the middle, sixteen years older than Sheilagh and roughly sixteen years younger than her parents. Glancing at her father, who was still glaring at him, he assumed the man was doing the same sort of math in his head.

  “Maureen, do the boys know Sheilagh’s home—and that she brought a friend?” her father asked.

  “I told the lot of them she was coming, but we weren’t sure when she’d be getting here. Her friend was a surprise, so they won’t be expectin’ him.”

  How many brothers? Five? It might have been a very bad decision to come here. “I’m going to get our bags out of the car,” he announced, quietly slipping away.

  She glanced up at him with questioning eyes. She had to understand this was a bit overwhelming. She’d warned him, yet he hadn’t been prepared for shotguns and interrogations.

  He avoided placing a kiss on her head and glanced over to her father who seemed to be typing a text into his phone. Right. Likely alerting the natives.

  Alec excused himself and went to the car. As he unloaded his and Sheilagh’s bags, there was the crunch of gravel to his left. He turned, expecting to see a bear or another crazy person aiming a gun at him. It was neither.

  A man with hair to his shoulders approached. Arms crossed at his chest, tattoo showing past his sleeve, and a barely contained wild glint in his light eyes. “You h
ere with Sheilagh?”

  Where the hell did this guy come from? There were no new cars aside from her father’s truck. They were in the middle of nowhere. There was a barn in the distance, but that was it. Had this guy come out of the wilderness? He looked as if he could have. There was something rugged and unrefined about him.

  “Are you one of Sheilagh’s brothers?”

  The man’s stare zeroed in on Alec. He chewed his lower lip, seeming completely at ease with intimidating the company. He was young, perhaps thirty.

  “She ain’t my sister.” There was a twang to his speech that didn’t match the McCullough’s clipped, slightly Irish, dialect.

  Then who are you? Again, he attempted manners. Placing the bag on the ground, he extended his hand. “I’m Alec Devereux, a friend of Sheilagh’s from Princeton.”

  The man eyed his hand with disinterest. What the hell did these people have against shaking hands? They were quite uncivilized when it came to common courtesy and etiquette. His English upbringing couldn’t quite fathom their welcome.

  “What kind’a friend?” the man asked.

  Enough of this. “A good friend. Who are you?”

  “Just another keeper. You’ll want to watch yourself.”

  He frowned. “Pardon?”

  The man twisted his head slowly, cracking various vertebrae in the process. “Shei ain’t ever brought a man home. You look a bit…old…to be her friend.”

  Was this someone she had a past with? The door to the barn in the distance opened and another man stepped out. This one without a shirt, his body incredibly cut with muscle and covered in various tattoos. His eyes were hidden under the shadow of his Jeff cap.

  “Who’s this?” the newcomer asked the man who’d been staring him down.

  The first man tipped his chin. “Sheilagh’s friend.”

  “Sheilagh doesn’t have friends we don’t know.”

  Alec arched a brow. She’d been living in a different state for eight months. Of course she had other friends. He didn’t offer to shake the newcomers hand, tired of having the offer ignored. “I’m Alec.”

  “Alec,” the man said, as if testing the word. “Shei brought you here?”

  He nodded.

  Suddenly the man shouted, “Sheilagh! Get your ass out here before we string up your ‘friend’!”

  The door on the porch whipped open and suddenly his little redhead turned ill-mannered and slightly redneck. “Don’t you come up here trying to intimidate my company! Take your sorry asses on home and come back when you’ve found some manners. Alec, come inside. You don’t need to bother with them.”

  Both men slowly smirked. “Take a McCullough out of Center County, but you’ll never get the McCullough out of her. I can see that prep school of yours still has its work cut out, Shei-Devil.”

  She smiled, the expression slow and full of hidden affection. “No fancy neighborhood’s gonna change me, Luke. You should have known better if you were hoping to send me away and get some debutante back.”

  Ah, so this was Luke. That meant the other man was likely Tristan. He didn’t know how he felt, seeing such a young—obviously handsome—man and knowing Sheilagh had been in love with him. Whatever label he put on the emotion, it wasn’t pretty. It helped knowing the man was gay and not a threat to his relationship.

  Luke laughed. “Pretty brazen, bringing a friend back with you, Shei-Devil.”

  “Well, you know me. I like to shake things up.”

  She didn’t look at Tristan. As a matter of fact she remained on the porch, keeping her distance. He glanced at the other man who was watching her, a shrewd set to his mouth.

  Alec frowned. Perhaps gay wasn’t the proper term. Perhaps this man was bi. When he looked at Sheilagh there was something there. It was more than platonic affection. Alec interpreted it as territorial.

  “How come you didn’t come home on Saturday?” Tristan finally said, accusation in his tone.

  Sheilagh shrugged. “I had things I wanted to do.”

  His gaze cut to Alec’s who met it, mano-a-mano, and cut away again, back to her. “I’ll bet. Tomorrow night we’re hitting O’Malley’s. You like whiskey, friend?”

  What was it with these people and their whiskey? Alec sensed this was some sort of test. “When it suits.”

  Tristan nodded. “Good. I’ll have your shots ready.”

  The door to the house opened and Mrs. McCullough came out. She smiled the moment she saw Tristan and Luke. “Oh, I didn’t know you boys were here. Well, come and eat. The food’s gettin’ cold and I didn’t cook for nothin’.”

  The men grinned slowly. As they stepped toward the house Tristan made a point to walk directly in Alec’s path, playing a sort of chicken until Alec stepped aside.

  He frowned and watched them go in the house.

  “Ignore them,” Sheilagh said.

  He climbed the steps slowly and stepped close to her. “Is this what I should expect from all your relatives?”

  “No, Colin’s nice.”

  Great. One out of nine. He placed a soft kiss on her lips and a throat cleared from the door.

  “Mind taking your lips off my baby?”

  Alec stepped back. He met the eyes of her father and simply stared, unsure what to say. The man gave him a hard look and walked away. This should be an interesting four days.

  * * * *

  Sheilagh’s mother talked like she was propelled to do so by a small motor. There was no filter to her words and he soon realized when Sheilagh said her family was liberal, she’d extended the label as far as it would stretch.

  “Sammy wants another baby, but Colin’s been busy at the school. I hear they’ve been going at it so hard the church bells are rockin’ in their wake. I think he’s making up for lost time, he is. Kate’s been sick with this pregnancy. She’s older now and her body isn’t much caring for the stress of another babe. Ashlynn’s been busy with the farm so I’ve been going there a few times a week to sit with Nathanial, angel that he is. Gianna’s starting to walk and the twins are devilishly handsome, of course. Poor Finnegan has his hands full. Your brother, Braydon, is working on some big deal in Pittsburg and hardly has time to remember he has family elsewhere, but we’ll forgive him. I do think Kelly has finally grown up some. Wouldn’t you agree, Frank?”

  Frank, Sheilagh’s father, grunted and continued cutting his meat. Alec kept his head down, weary of looking up and finding threatening glances pinned on him.

  “How long are you staying, Shei?” Tristan asked.

  Unease had Alec twitching at the way the man shortened her name, never mind the inflection in his tone.

  “We have to go back early Sunday morning.”

  “What are you majoring in, Alec?” Tristan asked.

  He cleared his throat. “My concentration is philosophy.”

  Sheilagh drew in a breath. “Actually, Alec’s a—”

  “Pass the salt, sweetheart.”

  Everyone stilled. He’d meant to cut her off from announcing he was a professor, but slipped with the endearment. Frank stood and cleared his plate. The man lingered at the sink, presenting them his back. Tristan and Luke eyed him challengingly. Maureen, who was still chatting around them, slipped in a quick prompt for Sheilagh to slide over the salt, but then went back to her abridgment of the current McCullough events and doings.

  Sheilagh swallowed and reached for the salt. She slowly slid it to him and looked down. Clearing her throat she said, “So…is Sue still working at the bar? Have they hired anyone new?”

  “Oh, Sue’s still there. She’s been wonderful. Kelly’s also hired a young woman named—Tabby is it?—Luke knows her. Sweet girl. Sort of dumb, but in a nice way. The boys seem to like her.”

  “Mum, it isn’t nice to call a woman dumb,” Sheilagh said.

  “Oh, well, I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just that she can’t be too smart if she’s lettin’ every man in Center County access her knickers. A smart woman only shows her knickers to the good one
s. Luke, have you seen Tabby’s knickers?”

  He watched as Sheilagh bent her head and laughed silently as her brother sighed.

  “Her name is Tanya, Mum, and no, I have no idea what her knickers look like.”

  “What about you, Tristan?”

  “I’m afraid I have not, Maureen.”

  “See,” Sheilagh’s mother continued. “Dumb. She isn’t showing them to any of the nice bachelors in town.”

  Sheilagh put down her fork and muttered. “God save me from this woman.”

  Dinner carried on much the same. Frank left the kitchen and soon Tristan and Luke said goodnight, reminding him once more that they’d be seeing him tomorrow. Maureen went off to bed and Sheilagh carried her bag upstairs, saying she was going to take a shower.

  Alec waited a few minutes, finishing his whiskey, which he was growing accustomed to, and slowly made his way to the stairs.

  “Alec.”

  He stilled and found Frank sitting in the den watching him. He placed his bag by the stairs and entered the room.

  “Have a seat, son.”

  No one had called him son in years, but he stepped into the room and sat on the chair across from Sheilagh’s father.

  “Are you sleeping with my daughter?”

  Wow. If anything, this family was direct. “The relationship your daughter and I share is our own business. Out of respect for her, I’m not going to answer that.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes. How old are you?”

  “I’m forty.”

  “My daughter’s twenty-four.”

  “I’m aware.”

  “What exactly does a forty year old do at a college?”

  “I teach.”

  Frank nodded slowly. “That makes a bit more sense. Is Sheilagh a student of yours?”

  “She was, but she withdrew from my class.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  Alec shifted. “I’m sure you’re aware your daughter is brilliant.”

  “She can be.”

  “Yes, well, she’s also very stubborn. She hasn’t quite come to terms with her circumstances yet. Princeton is among one of the best schools in the country and we, the instructors, intend to challenge every mind that walks our halls. I challenged your daughter to give me her best. She didn’t and she knows it. When I gave her a grade she couldn’t abide, she dropped the course.”