Falling For Them Volume 2: Reverse Harem Collection

by Nikki Bolvair

  “That hurts, Shiv.” He runs a hand over his short, dark-brown hair. “Don’t you recognize the first man you kissed?”

  “The first man I kissed was Liam Burke.” With a huff, I tuck the baton under my arm, put my foot back on the running board, and climb into the cab. “I’d hardly call what we did in third grade ‘kissing’, Hughe.”

  He covers his heart with one large hand. “Are you saying the fond memory I’ve held onto all these years is a lie?”

  “Think of it what you will. I remember it differently.” Heat warms my cheeks, and I turn away with the pretense of hauling the heavy truck door closed.

  It should have held a special memory in my heart, too. No one forgets their first kiss, even if it’s fumbled in the dark of a closet while our classmates counted down on the other side. But when he’d gone back into the closet half an hour later with Briana, I came out of my delusion and realized it for the stupid game it was.

  Wise to my sour mood, he shrugs and turns his headlights back to bright before he checks over his shoulder and pulls back onto the road. ”Was that your truck a mile back?”

  “Yeah, the old girl finally died.” I reach for the strap over my shoulder and buckle myself in.

  “I can’t believe your dad’s kept it running this long.”

  “Dad will get her up and working again.” Heat blasts from the vents, and I lean forward to put my icy fingers over the nearest one. “He’s determined to pass the thing onto his grandkids.”

  He peeks at me from the corner of his eye. “Any sign of them yet?” When I raise my brows in confusion, he adds, “Grandkids. Any new babies in the McKathry clan?”

  I flip my hands over to warm the backs. “Carrick has one on the way.”

  “Oh, yeah? Who’d he end up marrying?”

  “Ava MacQuaid.” He shrugs, not recognizing the name, and I add, “They met in university over in Shrieve Port.”

  He pauses for a long moment, gaze fixed on the road. “And you?”

  “Too busy for that nonsense.”

  “I should have guessed.” He leans back, relaxing as he drapes an arm over the back of the bench seat. “Remember when we stole our dads’ trucks and raced them down Ulster?”

  I tamp down on the sweet memories that brings up. For a while there, the O’Brien triplets and I were inseparable. Until the day our friendship fell apart. “We did a lot of stupid things as kids.”

  “Yeah.” He smiles, lost in his thoughts. The second, “Yes,” he whispers under his breath holds regret.

  Restless and getting warm, I unbutton my jacket and settle back, away from the heater. “Are the others with you? Or is this just another short visit?”

  “Jameson and Davin are here, too.” His arm shifts and light fingers brush the hair away from my face. “We’re moving back permanently. To help dad out with the business.”

  “Why the sudden concern?” I move against the door, out of his reach. He won’t settle my annoyance so easily. “He’s been doing fine without you lot so far.”

  His arm drops to the empty bench between us as he scowls. “Are you trying to pick a fight with me?”

  “Your mother’s funeral was beautiful.” I meant for the words to hurt, but when he flinches, shame rushes through me. My voice softens. “Why didn’t you come back, then?”

  “We couldn’t. Dad understood.” His fingers flex against the seat as if he fights the urge to form a fist. “But we’re back now.”

  Unable to stop myself, I lay a hand on the tense muscles of his arm. “It will be good for him to have help.”

  He gives a tight nod. “We didn’t know how bad the arthritis had gotten until I visited last year. The old man never liked to cause trouble for others.”

  My hand drops away as annoyance rolls back in. “Yes, I heard about your visit. At Sunday dinner. After you’d already left again.”

  When Mrs. O’Brien passed away two years ago, Mom took it upon herself to make sure Mr. O’Brien comes over every Sunday for dinner with our family. She even knits him new blankets and scarves every year like she does for everyone in the McKathry clan. Now, Mr. O’Brien has become another member of our large family.

  Hughe reaches out to grab my hand, fingers tight when I try to pull away. “Were you sad I didn’t come by your house to say hello?”

  I sniff and stare out the windshield as the lights of Port Lapton’s Main Street come into view. “I would have been too busy anyway.”

  “I figured as much.” He flicks a brief glance in my direction. “Seeing as you never returned Davin’s letters.”

  I keep my expression neutral. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Yes, you do.” The quiet words settle between us as he turns down the first side street into town, the truck rumbling toward my family’s home.

  In the silence, his thumb sweeps over my knuckles, and I shiver. Over the last nine years, I told myself I’d gotten over the O’Brien triplets and the confusing, emotional mess they bring with them. I don’t need them back in town, wreaking havoc with my life once more.

  When the O’Brien house, with the McKathry house beside it, comes into view, I force myself to pull my hand away. “Just park at your house. I can walk across the lawn to mine.”

  “Now, what kind of gentleman would that make me?”

  I snort. “When have you ever been a gentleman?”

  Despite my protest, he bypasses his driveway to pull into the empty spot next to the newer company truck that Tomas usually drives for deliveries out to Shrieve Port, the next town over. I grab the door handle, ready to jump out, but he grabs my arm. “Shiv, wait.”

  I turn back to him, unsure what to expect, and he jumps out of the driver’s side, hurrying around to open the door for me. With a determined expression, he holds his hand out to help me down.

  My eyes narrow on him in suspicion. “What are you playing at, Hughe?”

  “I’m trying to show you I’ve changed.” He glances over his shoulder to his house. “We’ve changed.”

  “Holding open doors doesn’t mean you’ve changed.” I ignore his hand and scramble out of the truck, shivering at the sudden blast of cold as I leave the warmth of the cab behind. Digging in my pockets for the house keys, I march toward the front door.

  Hughe’s heavy footsteps rush after me. “Can we come over sometime?”

  “I’m sure that would please my mom.” The porch light flares to life, blinding me for a moment, and I cover my eyes as I pause on the stairs.

  Hughe’s hand spreads over my lower back. “But, will it please you?”

  I lower my arm to stare up at him. “Why do you care what pleases me?”

  “Shiv, please.” His hand lifts to touch my cheek. “We were fifteen and stupid. Can’t we start again?”

  My heart jumps, warmth spreading from his fingertips, and I fight the desire to lean into his touch. Voice unsteady, I whisper, “I’ve moved on.”

  He leans down, face close to mine, whiskey-colored eyes warm. “You’re still a terrible liar.”

  The breath catches in my lungs. “I’m not going to let you kiss me again, Hughe O’Brien.”

  “There you go again with the lies.” His nose nudges against mine.

  The front door flies open, and I jerk away with surprise as Tomas stomps out, shouting over his shoulder, “I got it, Dad! I’m going to look for her now.”

  I hurry to step out of Hughe’s hold, and his arms drop back to his sides with a resigned sigh.

  My younger brother turns and freezes, eyes wide with surprise as he spots us. He looks first at me, then Hughe. Then his shoulders stiffen, his face turning the same shade of red as his hair.

  He points at Hughe. “You get away from my sister, O’Brien!”

  Hughe holds up his hands. “Hey, Tomas, long time no see.”

  “Not long enough!” He storms across the porch, fists clenched at his sides. “You should have stayed away!”

  “Tomas, wait.” I move to step between them.

/>   Concerned, Hughe reaches out to keep me out of the way. In his distraction, he doesn’t see my brother’s fist cock back, and Hughe turns back to him just in time to catch the punch in his jaw.

  Don't Tuck Your Thumb

  “Ack, Tomas, what were you thinking, boy?” Mom demands as she shuffles back from the freezer with two small bags of frozen vegetables in her hand. Hughe sits at our large kitchen table, a steaming cup of hot chocolate in front of him. “Here you go, lad. Rest this on your poor face.”

  “Thank you, ma’am, you’re too kind.” He accepts the bag of peas and dutifully places it over a faint red mark on his jaw. He barely stumbled when Tomas punched him. It won’t even bruise.

  My brother leans against the kitchen counter, arms folded over his chest, chin out. “Did you see her lip, ma? What was I to think, finding my sister wounded and an O’Brien nearby?”

  “You’re lucky you didn’t get a whooping, young man.” Mom leans across the table to pass me the bag of frozen carrots.

  Under my mom’s watchful eye, I press the bag to my mouth, worried if Tomas spotted it that fast it might actually be worse than I thought.

  Mom pats Hughe on the shoulder. “Thank you for sparing my poor, delusional son.”

  Hughe grins up at her, all charm. “I’m sure I deserved it for something, ma’am.”

  “Oh, shush, you. That was years ago.” Mom blushes and pats at the curlers in her hair, charmed by the devil.

  All of my efforts to tell her Hughe was fine and should be sent home went unheard in her hurry to rush the poor, abused man inside. Now, he has her wrapped around his finger. Next, she’ll pull out the leftover meat pie to feed him. My eyes drop to the broad expanse of his shoulders, revealed when he shrugged out of his winter coat. His thermal shirt hugs his muscles, old and worn with holes near the seams. If Mom spots them, she’ll bring out the sewing kit.

  “So what happened?” Dad rumbles from his place at the head of the table where he sips on a cup of coffee, despite the late hour. His face remains inscrutable in the way only a father can, while he waits for his children to admit their misdeeds.

  I lower my bag of carrots, lip numb. “The old truck finally died on me about two miles out from town. The batteries were out in the walkie talkie, so I decided to walk. Hughe happened by and stopped to give me a lift.”

  “Ack, you. I told you we needed to replace that thing!” Mom shuffles down the length of the table to whack Dad in the shoulder. “Now, look what’s happened! Poor Von’s been disfigured!”

  As Dad rumbles back a quiet response, my hand flies to my mouth, and I straighten in alarm. When I prod at my lip, it doesn’t feel disfigured.

  “It’s not that bad,” Hughe whispers. “Only a little red. I didn’t even see it until we were on the porch.”

  “Of course you wouldn’t notice it in the dark.” I prod at it. Does it feel bigger than normal?

  Large fingers curl around my wrist, pulling my hand away. “Here, let me take a look.”

  Chair legs scrape against the old, wooden floor when Hughe shifts closer to cup my jaw, turning my face toward the overhead light. In reflex, my eyes shutter against the brightness. My parents’ squabbling fades into the background as Hughe prods at my lip, the callouses on his thumb rough despite the gentle touch.

  “It’s just a wee bite,” Hughe murmurs. His chair creaks, and the overhead light darkens. My eyes fly open to find his face inches from mine.

  My heart leaps as his breath flutters over my face. “What are you—”

  He cuts me off by pressing the bag of carrots back to my lip and lifts my hand to hold it in place. One corner of his lips kicks up. “You should be back to normal by morning.”

  He leans back in his seat and lifts his cup of hot chocolate to his mouth, eyes dancing over the rim.

  My dad pushes himself up from the table and glances over at Tomas. “Come on, son, best we go fetch the old girl.”

  “Yes, sir.” Tomas cuts a glance at Hughe. “Sorry I punched you.”

  “You’re a good brother.” Hughe sets his mug back on the table and nods up at Tomas. “I’d have done the same if it were my sister.”

  Tomas’s spine straightens, and they share one of those guy looks. They might as well beat their chests in true caveman fashion. After dad and Tomas shrug into their winter coats and head out, I kick Hughe under the table.

  He glances at me in surprise, and I hiss, “Stop encouraging him. The next person he punches will punch back, and then where will he be?”

  “At the doctor’s, probably. Especially if he keeps tucking his thumb like that.” He glances at the door. “I’ll show him how to throw a proper punch.”

  I toss the bag of carrots onto the table next to his mug. “You will not!”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Mom interrupts as she shuffles around the kitchen. “Please do that, Hughe.”

  My mouth drops open in shock, both for what she said and for recognizing which of the triplets sits in her kitchen. How does she know when even I can’t tell the difference after nine years?

  Back to us at the sink, she adds, “Shut your mouth, dear, before something flies into it.”

  I snap my teeth together, then burst out, “Mom, how can you say that?”

  “Maeve starts high school next year. She’s bound to bring boys home.” She sets Dad’s coffee cup in the drying rack and turns around, drying her hands on a towel. “If your brother’s gotten it in his head to be punching people, best he not break his thumb doing it.”

  “Wee Maeve? Already in high school?” Hughe leans back with a shake of his head. “I remember when she was still in pigtails.”

  “Aye, and she’s lookin’ to be a wild one, just like her older sister.” Mom shakes her head with resignation as she sets the towel over the drying rack. “Thank you, again, for rescuing my daughter. To think something could have happened to her tonight.”

  “Mom, I was fine.” My billy club rests next to the front door, where I’d stashed it on my way inside. “It was only a two mile hike.”

  “But who knows what could have happened in that time?” Her fingers twist together. “The Travelers will be through soon. They could have arrived early.”

  The nomadic people live in wagons and migrate up and down the coast depending on the season. Sometimes, when they leave, people go with them, drawn by the simplicity of a life without restrictions.

  I sigh with exasperation. “They don’t really kidnap people, Ma.”

  “Or the wisps.” Her eyes dart out the kitchen window. The fog from earlier followed us to town and now blankets the street in white. “Tis a perfect night for them to be out.”

  My eyes dart to Hughe, but he seems unconcerned. He must not have seen the dancing lights from the road. “Mom, I know to stay away from the will-o’-the-wisps.”

  Sadness creeps over her face as she stares outside. The wrinkles next to her mouth become more pronounced, and the kitchen lights gleam off the gray mixed into her once vibrant red hair. When did she become so old? I always think of my mom as a strong woman, able to take on the world. But now, her narrow shoulders stoop with fatigue, her hands more knobby than slender as they twist together.

  “Mom, I won’t follow the wisps,” I whisper.

  Her eyes dart back to me, and for a moment, I think she sees her sister in my place. While the rest of the family is all red-headed, I take after my aunt with my darker looks. On a night much like this one, in the same year I was born, she disappeared. The town elders like to whisper about her wildness as a child, her supernatural luck at getting away with mischief. They called her fairy touched, and when she disappeared, everyone assumed she followed the lure of the wisps in search of new adventures.

  Mom shakes herself and straightens, shrugging off the sadness. “Well, I best be off to bed. Don’t forget to lock up.”

  “Night, Mom.”

  “Night, Mrs. McKathry.”

  Silence falls over the kitchen as Mom walks up the back stairs. They
creak with every step, then the floorboards over our heads groan as she walks down the long hallway to the master bedroom at the end. No sneaking around in this house. At least, not unless someone wants to crawl out a bedroom window. Which I’d done more than my fair share of as a kid. Dad cut down the tree in front of Maeve’s window last year, for safety reasons. My brothers had it easy growing up with their bedrooms on the first floor and basement.

  Hughe takes another sip of hot chocolate, eyes steady as he studies me over the rim. I stare back, lips clamped shut.

  At last, he sets the cup down. “You look good, Shiv.”

  Heart tripping at the compliment, I resist the urge to fuss with my hair, frizzy from being out in the cold. Instead, I narrow my eyes at him. “I won’t be won by flattery.”

  He leans closer, voice a low rumble. “I never stopped thinking about you. Neither did Davin or Jameson.”

  “So, what?” I fold my arms under my breasts, chin out. “You think just because you’ve moved back to town we can all pick up where we left off?”

  He has the grace to duck his head with chagrin. “We’d like to come by, if you’ll let us. We can catch up? Maybe go down to McArthur’s Pub to get a drink?”

  My pulse thunders, blood rushing through my veins at the idea. Dancing, joking, falling asleep in a big pile, surrounded by their warmth...I’ve never felt more alive than when I was with the triplets. Which made their absence that much harder to bear. It took years to learn to live again, since it felt like a huge chunk of my soul had been torn away.

  I tuck my hands into my lap to hide the shaking. My heart can’t handle being broken twice by the O’Brien triplets. “I think you need to leave.”

  “Shiv...”

  He reaches toward me, and I thrust to my feet, knocking my chair back. “It’s late. Thank you for delivering me home safe.”

  Reluctant, he rises and lifts his jacket from the back of the chair. The frozen peas sit on the table, the water from their condensation puddling around his empty mug. “I’ll come again.”