Falling For Them Volume 2: Reverse Harem Collection

by Nikki Bolvair

  Nimbly, he leaps to the nearest branch, then walks to the trunk as if he strolls along the sidewalk. My heart sticks in my throat until he reaches the ground and waves back up at me.

  Shutting the window, I turn the lock and shut the curtains tight before I crawl back into bed and shut off the light.

  ~

  Another tap pulls me from sleep. Groggy, I blink at the clock. I’d only been asleep for thirty minutes. The tap comes again, and I force myself out of bed, stumbling across the floor to push open the curtain.

  Hughe crouches on the other side, still dressed in the red flannel he wore to dinner. He points to the middle of the window, at the little lock that keeps him out.

  I turn it, and he pushes the window up, climbing through before I can tell him to go back home. My hands move to my hips. “I have work in the morning, you know.”

  “I’m sorry, but I needed to see you.” He tugs forward by the elbow and wraps an arm around my shoulders. “When you vanished like that, it was every nightmare I’ve ever had come to life. Just let me hold you for a minute, please.”

  Sighing, I relax against him. His solid arms hold me steady, his cheek warm against my hair. My eyes flutter shut, sleep beckoning. When his calloused hand brushes over my bare shoulder, though, my eyes pop open once more.

  I push away from him. “I really need to go back to bed.”

  He glances over my shoulder to the rumpled comforter, and his eyelids lower to half mast, his gaze calculating as it sweeps over me. His voice turns rough. “I’ll tuck you in.”

  “That’s not necessary.” While the offer sounds innocent, his heated stare speaks volumes. I pull the nightgown back into place, holding it close to my throat. I nod to the window. “Out you go.”

  One eyebrow lifts. “Without even a kiss goodnight?”

  I mirror his expression. “You’re actually asking this time?”

  “Yes.”

  The simple response catches me by surprise. In the past, Hughe always did what he wanted and asked for forgiveness if he got caught. Hesitant, I shuffle forward, eyes narrowed as I wait for him spring into action. When he remains patient, I lift onto my toes. His eyes remain open, locked with mine as I press a quick, chaste kiss to his lips.

  I drop back to my heels. “Good night, Hughe.”

  “Goodnight, Shiv.” When he walks toward the window, my shoulders slump with disappointment, and I shake myself. I can’t fault him for following through with his intention.

  His footsteps pause, and I glance up, meeting his eyes in the reflection in the window. In the next moment, he spins around, gathering me into his arms.

  I squeak as my feet leave the ground. “What are you doing?”

  “How am I supposed to be fair when you look at me like that?” he mutters before his lips claim mine in a heated kiss.

  His impatient tongue presses into my mouth without waiting for an invitation. Fire and passion spark in my belly, spreading down between my thighs. In an instant, he stokes the quiet desire left by Davin into a raging inferno.

  I wrap my arms around his neck, stretching to feel more of him against me. My pulse races as I push back against his tongue in a dance I yearn to complete with our bodies. The hard press against my belly makes my inner muscles clench, and I press my thighs together in a vain attempt to ease the ache.

  Hughe’s hold shifts, one arm curving beneath my bottom to boost me higher, freeing his other arm to explore. Impatient fingers tug at the collar of my nightgown, then brush across the bared skin of my shoulder.

  His mouth leaves mine. “I want to touch you, Shiv.”

  “You’re already touching me,” I gasp.

  His fingers skim along my collarbone. “More than this. I want to touch every part of you.”

  But he surprises me once more when he tugs my nightgown back into place and gently sets me on my feet.

  My body yearns with unfulfilled desire, and I stumble as he releases me. “Hughe?”

  “Shit.” He covers his eyes and turns away, head bowed. “Stop looking at me like that, or I won’t be able to do the right thing and leave you tonight.”

  Confused, I stare at the tense line of his shoulders “But—”

  “When I finally get to hold you,” he interrupts, his hands opening and closing into fists, “it’s not going to be a quiet, hurried rush in your parent’s house. You deserve better than that.”

  Embarrassment and pleasure rushes through me. I hadn’t even taken my parents into consideration.

  With a shiver, I hug my arms around myself to stop from going to him. “Goodnight, Hughe.”

  With a short nod, he climbs out the window without looking back.

  After I shut the window, I lean against it, letting the chilled glass sap off some of the heat that infuses my body. I’m glad he showed restraint when I lost mine. But my aching body won’t be able to resist a visit from the third O’Brien triplet tonight, and after Davin and Hughe’s visits, I can’t help but assume Jameson will be by soon.

  While they were wildly different in personalities, in this way, they’d always been of the same mind.

  I walk to the desk and pull out the top drawer, glad to find the paper and pencil still there. Quickly, I scrawl a note:

  Jameson,

  Meet me tomorrow after work. I’m ready to listen.

  I tape it to the outside of my window so he can easily read it, close the curtains, and climb back into bed.

  For a long time, I stay awake, waiting for the quiet creak of the porch roof, the rustle against the window to alert me to his arrival. But sleep drags me under before he comes.

  Pink Cardigans & Romance Books

  In the morning, blurry eyed and still half asleep, I push the curtain aside to see the note gone. My chest tightens. Jameson came, too. I take the missing note as his agreement to meet me after work, and my heart pounds. Am I really ready to give this relationship the chance it never received nine years ago?

  I rush through getting ready, slipping into the bathroom for a fast shower before Maeve takes over the shared space with her morning grooming routine.

  Downstairs, I find Mom and Dad already there. The rich scent of butter and bacon fills the air, and my stomach growls, a reminder of the small dinner I ate last night.

  “Good morning.” I drop a quick kiss on Dad’s cheek, his scruffy beard ticklish against my chin.

  “Morning,” he grunts into his coffee cup.

  Never a man of many words, mornings are the worst for him. He sits on a stool at the island, a full pot of coffee at his elbow while a second one brews on the counter for the rest of the family.

  “Good morning, dear, did you sleep well?” Mom asks from where she hovers at the stove, spatula at the ready. Platters at her elbow already hold tall stacks of bacon and pancakes.

  “Well enough.” I skirt around her to fetch a mug and pull the still brewing pot of coffee off the warming plate, shoving my cup in its place to catch the dark stream. Placing the pot back in the machine, I turn to stare at all the food. “Are Bradan and Carrick’s family coming by this morning?”

  “Ack, no. They never come by during the week anymore.” Like a professional, Mom scoops four new hot cakes off the griddle and stacks them on top of the ones already cooked, then pours four new rings of batter onto the pan.

  I glance at Dad who shrugs, not helpful in the least. “Are you making food for the whole week?”

  “Don’t be silly. Fetch the large storage container from above the fridge,” Mom commands as the timer goes off, and she opens the oven to lift out another tray of bacon. My stomach growls loudly at the sight.

  Maeve comes stumbling down the steps, hair half braided and nose in the air, drawn by the delicious scents. “Do I get breakfast in my lunch bag today?”

  “If ye’d like, though we have turkey, too.” Mom nods to the cabinet next to the sink. “Get the plates out. And, Siobhan, lass, where’s that container?”

  With a sigh, I set my mug down and drag the sto
ol over from its place beside the back door so I can reach the cabinet over the fridge where Mom stores the picnic basket and large food storage boxes.

  Tomas comes thundering up the basement stairs as I set it on the counter.

  “Morning!” he announces to the room at large before dropping a kiss on Mom’s cheek. Grabbing a pancake from the stack, he tosses it between his hands to cool it, then stacks bacon in its center and rolls it up like a burrito. Mom hands him a thermos, and he heads toward the front door. “Bye Siobhan, bye brat. See you at the store, Dad.”

  “Bye, Tomas,” Maeve and I chorus together.

  This has become the norm since Dad officially appointed him to open McKathry’s Hardware in the morning. It gives him more responsibilities while freeing Dad to drive Mom into the craft store before heading into work himself. In a few years, he’ll hand the store off to Tomas and retire.

  Mom wants to do the same with the craft store, but none of her children have a crafty bone in our bodies. She’ll have to sell it when she wants to retire.

  The front door bangs open and Tomas yells, “We have company!”

  Mom pauses, a fresh stack of pancakes balanced on her spatula, to peer into the living room as the front door bangs closed once more. “Who could be here so early?”

  “I’ll check!” Maeve sets the plates on the counter with a loud rattle and runs for the front room.

  I jump, remembering suddenly that I invited someone for breakfast. “It’s probably Davin. He asked if he could walk me to work this morning.”

  “Oh?” Mom turns to look at me, eyebrows arched. “And when did he do that, lass?”

  Blood fills my cheeks with embarrassed heat. In the commotion of last night, the O’Brien’s had left too quickly to have made any arrangements. The only phone in the house is in the kitchen, so I obviously didn’t call him up after I went to bed last night.

  Dad huffs into his coffee cup. “Should have cut down both trees.”

  “Well, then.” Mom walks over to the island to grab the large Tupperware, then marches back to the stove. “I knew there was a reason ta make extra for ye to take back to the apartment.”

  “Wait, all that’s for me?” My mouth drops open in shock before I snap my teeth closed. “I can’t eat all that!”

  “Ye can if yer sharing.” She quickly stacks the cooler pancakes into the container, along with half of the bacon. “Set the table, lass. We have a guest.”

  Davin and Maeve walk into the kitchen, as if to punctuate her point, and I turn away before he can see my flushed face. I feel like I should defend my honor, but Mom’s not exactly wrong. I may have company over to the apartment soon. Though I hadn’t planned to have them there for breakfast.

  At least, not right away.

  ~

  “Your mom’s a wonderful cook.” Davin rubs his stomach with a groan. “I could drink a whole bottle of that homemade blueberry syrup.”

  “Well, don’t get used to it,” I grumble, clutching the to-go box to my chest as we walk down the driveway. “I burn everything I cook.”

  His arm bumps against my shoulder playfully. ”Can I take that to mean you plan to share future meals with me, outside of your family’s home?”

  I bury my nose in my scarf. “Take it as you like.”

  His hand on my arm pulls me to a stop, and he steps in front of me. Smiling, he tugs my scarf out of the way and drops a quick, sweet kiss on my lips. “I’d be happy to have all my meals with you.”

  My chest tightens at the idea. Cautious, I tuck the carton under one arm and reach for his hands. “Are you really staying for good this time?”

  His fingers lace through mine, the thick wool of my gloves keeping his warmth away. He stares down at me, face serious. “Yes, we’re really staying. Even if no one will hire us, we’ll make it work. We won’t leave you again.”

  I nod and tuck my nose back into the scarf as we resume walking. “You can always become kept men. Are you good at cooking?”

  He laughed quietly. “Not me. I’ll have to be the maid. But Jameson cooks. Quite well, actually.”

  I glance up at him in surprise. “You were serious about that? I thought you were just trying to avoid one of Darcy’s casseroles.”

  His eyes narrow. “She sent one over, you know.”

  “Oh, what was in it?” I demand with morbid curiosity.

  “Noodles.”

  My lips purse in disappointment. “That’s normal enough.”

  “Shredded chicken.”

  I tug his arm. “Are you sure it was from Darcy?”

  “Peppered cheese.”

  “This actually sounds pretty good.”

  “I’ll bring some over for dinner tonight.” He drops my hand to slip an arm around my back as we cross the street. “We have some left over.”

  I eye him, suspicious of his even tone. “What else is in it?”

  His head turns away, his shoulders shaking under his thick flannel. “Punch flavored gummy candies.”

  Laughter bursts out of me, and I tuck my face against his arm to muffle the sound. “If she’d gone with the cinnamon ones, it might have been good.”

  When Davin grins, his eyes twinkle. “I’ll let her know you said so.”

  “Don’t you dare!”

  “Never fear.” His arm tightens around me. “I’m sure you’ll receive a casserole of your own, soon. You just got a new place, after all.”

  Horrified, I stare up at him. “You’re right.”

  “It might even arrive tonight.” He squeezes my side in sympathy. “I suppose I could be talked into helping you dispose of it.”

  I poke him in the stomach. “Such sacrifices.”

  “Anything for you.” The conviction in his voice lends weight to the words, and he clears his throat. “Should I come by after the community center closes then?”

  The smile drops from my face. “No, not tonight.”

  His smile becomes tight, his light tone forced as he asks, “Got another hot date?”

  “I find him attractive,” I hedge, just to see his reaction. His body stiffens against me, and I drop the pretense. “I’m meeting Jameson.”

  “Good.” A shaky sigh escapes Davin, and he looks away. “That will be good.”

  He sounds relieved, and I nibble my lip, uncertain, before I blurt out, “It was a fake.”

  “What?” His brows crease with confusion. “What was a fake?”

  “The date last Wednesday.” When he still looks confused, I add, “With Hamilton.”

  He frowns with unhappiness. “Hughe said you looked comfortable together.”

  “He’s nice and easy to be around.” My gaze drops to the street, unable to handle saying this to his face. “But I’d only just met him right before you arrived. He was kind enough to play along. I didn’t want you to think I was pathetic. And I was angry.”

  He tugs me closer, his cheek dropping on top of my head. His breath comes warm though my knitted hat as he breathes, “I would never think you’re pathetic.”

  “I didn’t date much while you were gone.” My shoulders hunch. “No one held my interest.”

  “We didn’t date at all.” He pulls us to a stop outside of Lapton Steam, the coffee shop busy with the early morning rush before work. Davin’s hands dip into my scarf to cup my neck, and his forehead drops to mine. “We’re exactly as we left you, only older now and ready to be the men meant to be with you.”

  “But what if the current me disappoint you?” I close my eyes tight. “I’m boring now. I wear pink cardigans and watch late night television. I’m not who I was when you left. I’m not exciting.”

  “Hughe plays chess.”

  “What?” My eyes snap back open in shock. Hughe always made fun of the chess club in middle school.

  Davin smiles as he reveals another of his brothers’ secrets. “Jameson reads romance novels.”

  My jaw drops. “Shut up.”

  “I whittle.”

  I scoff at that one. “You always whittle
d.”

  He presses his forehead harder against mine. “Pigs. I like to whittle pigs.”

  I snort, trying to imagine it. “Do you have a collection?”

  He nods solemnly. “About fifty of them. I need a whole shelf to display them. And those are just the ones I kept.”

  I smile and pull his hands away to lean into him. “Why pigs?”

  “We had a lot of them on the island.” His chest moves as he shrugs. “When I said we were the same, I didn’t mean we were still wild children. I meant…”

  When he trails off, I tip my face up to look at him. Red stains his cheeks, and he glances away. I remember the hesitancy behind his kiss the night before, how it took him a moment to get the hang of it, and blood rushes to my own face. “Oh.”

  He glances at me from the corner of his eye. “Does it bother you?”

  “No.” I straighten away from him and duck my head. “No, not at all.”

  In fact, my stomach flutters with excitement. I’m selfish enough to take pleasure in knowing the triplets hadn’t dated anyone while they were gone.

  Tucking my hand into his elbow, I pull us forward, suddenly eager to get through today.

  Furthering Gossip

  When the bell over the front door chimes late in the day, I glance up with relief from my copy of Trapped by the Traveler. So far today, only one person came in to update their listing on the job board. Not uncommon for a Monday, but it makes the day drag. Not even the floral erotica of this week’s book club choice can hold my interest.

  Jameson hovers at the entrance, one of Mom’s new knit hats clutched in his hands and a satchel over his shoulder. As if to make himself less intimidating, he hunches with uncertainty as he peers around.

  Slipping a bookmark into place, I close the book, then push it off to the side to lean my elbows on the counter. “You’re early. I don’t close for a few more hours.”

  “I’m actually here on business.” He shuffles inside a little farther, but stops well out of reach.