Falling For Them Volume 2: Reverse Harem Collection

by Nikki Bolvair

  “Just salting the steps.” I tap the cup against his leg for emphasis, and he releases me to step back. I glance around him to Hughe and Jameson. “Come on up. I just turned on the radiator, so it should be warm soon.”

  The steps vibrate as they follow me up, their boots heavy on the stairs. I study the planks in front of me, worried. Did Mrs. Flanagan ever reseal the wood?

  My fingers tighten on the rail as I glance over my shoulder. “When you have time, can one of you look at the stairs? To make sure they’re safe?”

  Hughe meets my gaze. “I took a look after I left this afternoon. They’re fine for now, though I’d like to put a center beam up to make them less bouncy.”

  Davin tips his head toward the building. “We should probably repaint this summer, too. It doesn’t look like it’s been done in a while.”

  “Hughe and I will do that,” Jameson rumbles from the back.

  Davin scowls. “I’m perfectly capable of painting.”

  Hughe snorts. “You’re too fussy.”

  “Slow.” Jameson grunts.

  I laugh as red stains Davin’s cheeks. “That’s okay, Dav. We can drink lemonade while they do all the work.”

  “Who says you’re not helping?” Hughe pats the old building. “This is your baby, now. You’ll help maintain her.”

  “Guess I’ll drink the lemonade all by myself.” Davin sighs heavily. “It will be a heavy burden.”

  At the top of the stairs, I turn to poke him in the shoulder. “If I’m working, you’re working. I’ll find something for you to fix.”

  “Can’t imagine that will be hard.” Davin nudges me inside. “This building hasn’t been updated since the day it was built.”

  I kick my shoes off on the small rectangle of tiled floor just inside the door to avoid tracking salt through the apartment. Stepping out of the way, I shrug out of my coat and hang it on one of the hooks installed on the wall. “Do you want some tea or coffee?”

  “Coffee would be wonderful.” Jameson sways as he bends to unlace his boots and pull them off. When he stands, I notice the his eyes look red, with heavy bags beneath.

  Concerned, I pull him to the kitchen table and push him into a seat. “Are you okay?”

  He nods as he struggles out of his jacket and drapes it on the back of the chair. “Stayed up to get the plans done for the Lapton Main Gallery.”

  I touch his cheek, the beginnings of a beard bristly beneath my fingertips. “Did you sleep at all?”

  “A couple hours.” He leans into my touch, his eyes closing, and warmth fills my chest. He should have stayed home to rest, but he came here instead.

  I lean in closer, voice quiet. “Do you want to lie down? You shouldn’t push yourself.”

  “We need the work.” He cups the back of my hand and presses a kiss against my palm. “And I need to see you. Sleep can wait.”

  My heart leaps at the casual display of affection.

  “Did you make us dinner?” Flustered, I turn to find Hughe investigating the casserole.

  Davin, beside him, has a knowing smirk on his face. He nudges his brother. “Are you excited to eat Vonnie’s cooking?”

  Hughe turns to grin at me. “I’m sure it’s wonderful. Dad goes on and on about your mom’s skills in the kitchen.”

  I bite the inside of my cheek to hold back a laugh. “Shall I get you a plate?”

  He rubs his stomach. “Can’t wait.”

  Walking into the kitchen, I bump my shoulder against Davin’s arm as I pass, and he whispers, “Have you looked inside it yet?”

  “Nope.” It takes two tries to find the cupboard where Ava put the plates.

  I’m still not familiar with the new kitchen and unsure if I’ll keep things where they are. But reorganizing sounds like a lot of work when it probably won’t get a lot of use.

  Contrary to Hughe’s assumption, I didn’t inherit my mother’s skills in the kitchen. I can do just fine with a saucepan and bowl for soup. Why Mom gave me a new set of cast iron is beyond me. She must have bought it before she realized I burn everything I touch.

  I bring a small plate, along with a spatula, back to the counter and peel back the foil covering.

  Silence fills the kitchen, long enough that Jameson becomes curious and joins us. He stares at the casserole dish. “Are those chocolates on top? Did you make us dessert?”

  Hughe leans away. “No, I definitely smell tuna.”

  Davin crouches until his eyes are level with the counter and studies the side of the dish. “I see noodles.”

  “What’s it sprinkled with?” Jameson pokes at the chocolates. Fine white granules fill the cracks between the misshapen, brown balls.

  “Looks delicious, right Hughe?” Davin elbows his brother.

  “It looks…creative.” His eyes dart to me and back to the casserole, and he clears his throat. “Can’t wait.”

  I nudge the plate and spatula across the counter to him. “Go ahead. Dig in.”

  Reluctance in every move, Hughe lifts the spatula and cuts into the casserole. It crunches quietly as he digs out a small square and slides in onto the plate. It jiggles in place, the noodles held together by a gelatinous mixture of tuna and something I can’t identify.

  He glances at me once more. “Is it supposed to be eaten cold?”

  I blink at him innocently. “You wouldn’t want to melt the topping, right?”

  “Right.” His head turns to check with his brothers. “Aren’t you guys going to get plates for yourself?”

  Jameson slumps against the counter and shakes his head. “I’m not awake enough to be hungry.”

  “Dav?” Desperation fills Hughe’s voice.

  “I had a late lunch. I figured we’d eat after we unpacked some.” Davin thumps Hughe on the shoulder. “It’s all you, man.”

  “Shiv?”

  I shake my head. “I’m still full from the picnic you brought over.”

  His shoulders slump with resignation as he lifts the fork and cuts off a small bite. I hold my breath, and Davin steps back, hand over his mouth.

  Hughe’s lips close over the fork, dragging it out clean, and he chews and swallows. “It’s a little…salty.”

  “Ugh, I can’t believe you actually ate it!” Davin spins away, making retching noises.

  I lean forward, curious. “What kind of candy is it?”

  “It’s chocolate covered macadamia nuts.” Hughe drops the fork. “You don’t know?”

  I shake my head, grinning. “No clue.”

  His eyes narrow, and he peers over his shoulder at Davin. “Shiv didn’t make this, did she?”

  “How did you not recognize it as one of Darcy’s concoctions?” Jameson asks.

  “You asshole!” Hughe lunges at Davin, tackling him to the floor. “That’s pure salt on top!”

  Davin, arms over his face, howls with laughter.

  I shake my head at them and turn to Jameson. “So, what do you want on your pizza?”

  ~

  “A little more to the right.” Hughe gestures with his slice of pizza, the narrow top flopping downward and threatening to spill mushrooms and sausage onto the worn rug.

  Davin fiddles with the antenna on top of the television, and the snow clears a little more until actual figures become recognizable on the screen. “How’s that?”

  “Maybe we should try a different channel,” I mumble around a mouthful of herb and cheese.

  When Davin leans around until he can see the front, his hair falls across his forehead. “No, I think we’re getting there.”

  “We should buy a video player.” The couch creaks behind me as Jameson shifts to a more comfortable position.

  Hughe and I took the floor, pushing the coffee table out enough to wedge in between it and the couch. After a halfhearted protest, Jameson slowly slumped onto his side, and now, he lies with one arm wedged under a pillow, his half eaten pizza on a plate next to my hip.

  I peek back at him. His eyelids look heavy, and I stretch up to snag the co
rner of the blanket from the back of the couch to drag over him. “It’s one of the items on my list for Sunday.”

  “Oh, shopping.” Hughe leans his shoulder against mine. “Should we bring over Dad’s truck?”

  “I’d like to see if there’s any deals on chisels,” Davin adds.

  My eyebrow lifts. “Inviting yourself on my errands?”

  “Well…” He ducks his head, fiddling with the antenna. “Only if you want the company.”

  “That would be nice.” I drop my pizza crust onto my plate and set it on the coffee table. “Actually, I wanted to get your guys’ opinion on some things.”

  “Oh?” Hughe pulls up a knee, his body turning toward me, and Davin straightens from his fussing. Jameson stays quiet, but his hand brushes my shoulder to let me know he’s listening.

  Nervous, I pick at the leg of my jeans. ”I’ve been thinking about the community center. It’s dying, and I’d like to find a way to update it, make it more appealing for the younger generation.” I nibble on my lip, uncertain, and they wait patiently for me to continue. With a deep breath, I blurt out, “Except for snacks, Mrs. Flanagan didn’t touch the community funds, so there’s a lot to pull from to update the place, but I’m worried it won’t make a difference at this point.”

  “It’s a good idea,” Hughe rumbles, his hand moving to cup my knee. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but that kitchen is tiny.”

  “The conference rooms aren’t much better.” Jameson squeezes my shoulder. “Working in there wasn’t comfortable at all, which is too bad since the internet connection is strong. It’s a nice size, though. With new furniture and paint, it would make a good study room for school kids.”

  “That’s not a bad idea.” I straighten with excitement. “We only use one of the conference rooms right now. Converting the others for better function might draw more people in.” My mind whirls with possibilities. “Maybe I can bring in a table football game to entice kids to come hangout after school instead of getting up to trouble. And I thought the dance hall could be used for concerts if I install a better sounds system.”

  Davin rubs his hands together. “We could work on it in the evenings until the Lapton Main Gallery job is complete. I can make custom furniture. Multi-purpose items.”

  “Dav did a lot of that on the island.” Jameson mumbles sleepily. “Damn tiny cabin.”

  He sounds like he’s barely holding onto wakefulness. I reach back to grip his hand, and our fingers lace together. Warmth flows through me at the readiness to support my ideas and the way they assume in an instant they’ll be the ones to help me realize this new dream for the community center.

  Hughe bounces his knee in thought. “Didn’t someone say that the Conolly sisters are playing at McArthur’s Pub tomorrow? We should go and get a feel for the crowd. MacArthur would probably be open to catering bigger events.”

  “I could bring it up with Braden at Sunday dinner.” My gaze sweeps between them. “Do you think it will help?”

  “It’s a great idea, Vonnie.” One corner of Davin’s mouth tilts up. “If we had something like this, maybe we would have been less trouble for our parents.”

  I smile in relief at their support. For the first time in a while, it feels like I’m taking an active step forward instead of letting life simply drag me along. My stomach rumbles, and I elbow Hughe. “Pass the sausage pizza.”

  As he slides a new slice onto my plate, Davin fusses with the antenna, and the snow clears from the television screen, a horror movie snapping into vivid, gory focus.

  “Oh, I haven’t seen this one in since middle school.” Davin rushes around to my other side, settling onto the floor with his back propped against the couch. His long legs stretch out as he reaches across me for the pizza box.

  Boxed in between him and Hughe, with Jameson’s slack hand on my shoulder and his gentle snores filling my ears, I let myself relax.

  Slowly, as their combined warmth seeps into me, the walls I built over the years melt, and hope unfurls. Their presence makes the unfamiliar apartment feel right.

  I want this. Them, in my home and in my life, now and always.

  Microwave Breakfast

  I wake up the next morning to the faint blare of my alarm clock. My arms tighten around the muscular thigh that pillows my head, and I feel a reciprocal hug around my waist as Davin’s forehead presses into my lower back. In front of me, one of Hughe’s legs rests on the coffee table next to an empty bowl of popcorn. His shoulder digs into my stomach while his head rests on my hip, pressing me into the hard floor.

  We fell asleep sometime during the second horror movie.

  My alarm gives up and shuts itself off. I have another five minutes before it tries again. When I shift my weight, pain shoots up through my hip. While we often fell asleep like this in our grade school days, the all over body ache now reminds me I’m not as young as I used to be.

  Groaning, I reach down and nudge Hughe’s shoulder. “Get off.”

  With a snuffle, he rolls, his leg thumping to the floor as he wedges himself farther into the narrow space between me and the coffee table. His head slips off my hip to my waist, and Davin grunts, his arm lifting to shove at his brother.

  Hughe sits up, staring around in bleary confusion as he rubs his neck. “What time is it?”

  “Six-thirty,” I whisper.

  Free of Hughe’s weight, I roll to my stomach, then push myself to my hands and knees. Davin’s arm slides off, and I stumble to my feet. Everywhere hurts, my body a giant throb of reprimand.

  Hands against my lower back, I stretch and mutter, “We need a television in the bedroom before we do this again.”

  “Add it to the list for Sunday,” Jameson mumbles into the couch cushions.

  I stare down at him, envious of his padded sleeping surface. He won’t suffer the same as the rest of us. Hughe must have the same realization because he lurches to his feet and climbs onto the couch to wedge himself behind Jameson, shoving his brother off.

  Wincing, I shuffle out of the way as he lands on top of Davin.

  As Davin grunts and flails beneath the unexpected weight, I shake my head. “You know, I actually have a bed in one of the rooms.”

  “No, we’re up.” Jameson rolls off his brother and onto the floor to stare at the ceiling. “Just give us a minute.”

  “Do you have coffee?” Davin sits up, scrubs a hand across his face, and smack his lips. “And spare toothbrushes?”

  “There’s coffee in the community center downstairs. I haven’t made it to the store yet to stock up.” I chew my lip for a moment in thought. Ava unpacked my bathroom box, and I haven’t had the time to investigate what all made it over. “There might be toothbrushes. I’ll have to see what Mom snuck into her housewarming box.”

  “Pancakes.” Davin, suddenly awake, jumps to his feet. “I’ll microwave the pancakes.”

  Hughe pushes up onto his elbows with interest. “Pancakes?”

  “Eat anything you like,” I call after Davin as he shuffles into the kitchen on sock covered feet. “I’m going to take a quick shower and change for work.”

  Davin pulls open the fridge and lifts out the large, plastic bin with the leftover pancakes and bacon in it. He holds it aloft with reverence. “Please tell me there’s blueberry syrup.”

  “Check the cupboard. I’m not sure what all I have.” I walk down the hall, head down to hide the stupid smile that spreads across my face as the triplets make themselves comfortable in my apartment.

  The bud of hope that began last night spreads to fill my whole body, stamping out any fear that still lingered. They’re no longer a risk to my heart because they always had it, and now, they’ve brought it home.

  ~

  Mr. O’Brien’s old truck pulls up out front just before noon, Jameson and Davin in the front cab while Hughe rides on the tailgate, one arm looped around a bright yellow tie-down strap. Boxes fill the bed in neatly organized stacks that breach the height of the truck.

  G
rabbing a pair of leather gloves I found in the office, I hurry to prop open the door as the brothers climb out. “The town hall is opened and ready.”

  Jameson’s gaze skips over my worn jeans, sturdy boots, and old sweater I wear on cleaning day. “Sure you want to help? We can handle it just fine.”

  I wave him off, striding for the back of the truck. “It will go faster with another set of hands.”

  Dust covers Hughe’s red thermal shirt, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows despite the cold. His muscles strain as he pulls on one of the straps to get enough slack to unknot it.

  When I come up alongside him, he casts me a warm smile. “Some of the boxes are heavy. No idea what’s inside, and this is only the first load. I don’t think Mr. Nagel ever threw anything away.”

  “What does Malachi want done with it all?” I crane my neck to take in the load. I had less when I moved into my apartment.

  “He wants to see what’s salvageable and what needs to be disposed of.” Davin answers as he joins us. He throws an arm over my shoulder, pressing his lips to my temple. The scent of dust hangs heavy on him, and it tickles at my nose. “Afternoon, Vonnie.”

  “Morning, Dav.” I slide my arm around his waist in a sideways hug. I glance past him to Jameson. “Did they decide on a layout?”

  After I came out of the shower, dressed and ready for work, we ate a quick breakfast before they left to head back to their house and check for an update on their proposal for Lapton Main Gallery. Tension filled Jameson’s shoulders, and he paced instead of settling down to eat microwaved pancakes and bacon. He worried they would reject the layouts he submitted or decide against hiring the triplets.

  So much hinged on this job.

  Before pushing Davin out of the way to sweep me into a tight embrace, Jameson grins down at me. Through my curls his warm breath fills my ear. “They went with the four bedroom option.”

  “That’s the most expensive one, right?” I squeeze the arms that loops around my waist, my feet dangling off the ground. “That’s fantastic!”