Seducing Bran

by Jules Barnard

  Ireland saved Buddy from the Cali trash compactor. “Simmer down already. He does not love me.”

  Jaeg walked in the front door, and Buddy ran over to him. “What’s going on?” Jaeg swept Buddy up with one hand.

  “Ireland and—”

  Ireland slapped a hand over Cali’s mouth. That was all she needed—Cali telling the world that Bran loved her before the guy had even taken her on a date. “Nothing. Your fiancée has lost her mind trying to plan the wedding. Do you think we should get her bridezilla therapy?”

  Jaeg nodded. “Possibly. Or we could make her pick a venue by the end of the week.”

  Cali sat back and finally gave Ireland some space. Ireland carefully removed her fingers from over Cali’s mouth, sending a warning glare Cali appeared to read accurately.

  Cali fluffed her hair and looked at her fiancé. “Our wedding will be the most important day of our lives. We can’t have it just anywhere.”

  “Sure we can. Better than setting the world record for the longest engagement. Let’s tie the knot, babe. Who cares where it’s located? The moment is going to be amazing, no matter what.”

  Tears sprang to Cali’s eyes, and she stood and walked over to Jaeg, hugging him. “You are the sweetest man alive, and you’re right. I’ll force myself to pick a venue by the end of the week.” She bit her lip and glanced at Ireland. “It’s not going to be easy, though.”

  “I’ll help,” Ireland said.

  “Have I mentioned that you’re the best cousin in the entire world?”

  “Yes, but I don’t mind hearing it daily.”

  “You’re the best,” Cali said. “Now help me with the laundry so we can make it to Wes and Kaylee’s housewarming party.”

  Ireland grabbed a towel from the basket and started folding. “Housewarming party? Haven’t they been living in that house for a while?”

  “Yes, but as soon as they moved in, they got married, and then the baby arrived. Things piled up and they haven’t had a proper housewarming.”

  “You sure they don’t mind me tagging along?”

  “Kaylee specifically asked if you could make it. I went ahead and accepted on your behalf.”

  Ireland rolled her eyes. Cali was what you’d call pushy, but she had a big heart and always meant well.

  And who was Ireland to complain? Cali had introduced Ireland to Bran, and after an admittedly rocky start, things were looking up.

  Chapter 14

  Bran set a bottle of Prime’s best wine on Wes and Kaylee’s kitchen counter, the high volume of his brothers’ voices vibrating in the air.

  Wes glanced up and walked over. He slapped Bran on the back. “Glad you could make it. Kaylee is excited to show off the new furniture. Good thing she decorated and not me.”

  “That’s for damn sure.”

  Wes sent him a look of mock hurt. “I have taste. I picked Kaylee. She makes my world attractive.”

  “Truer words were never said. She got you out of that one-room hovel.”

  “Which you now live in.”

  Bran grinned. “If it ain’t broke…” He looked around the room. Kaylee and Wes had been in the new house for nearly a year, but they’d only recently finished furnishing the place.

  It was strange to consider how much had changed in only a few years. Not long ago, all of Bran’s brothers were single. Now, Wes and Adam had married, and Levi was working his way toward matrimonial bliss with Emily. Out of the five of them, only Bran and Hunt held down the fort in the singles’ department. And that made sense.

  Bran couldn’t imagine Hunt settling down; he loved women too much. Attach that guy to just one? No way. Not to mention that Hunt picked the wrong woman every damn time. In that sense, Bran and Hunt were equally cursed.

  If Bran allowed his instincts to control his actions, he’d very likely be in the same situation as Hunt—pollinating the town one beautiful woman at a time. Bran had taken measures to change his habits. He had rules. Though, admittedly, he’d ignored some of those rules since Ireland entered the picture.

  So he wanted to take her on a date. And see her naked. Was that so wrong?

  Bran got laid occasionally… Very occasionally. When it was safe to do so and no strings were attached, no emotion involved. But ever since Ireland entered his life, he’d felt more like a caged animal, starved for her attention. The intensity of his emotions sent up red flags, but he couldn’t help asking her out.

  He would keep things casual. Respectful and casual. And hopefully, if he was lucky, naked.

  Ireland naked…

  Bran slammed his eyes shut and let out a slow breath, flames rolling from his chest to his groin.

  He had to stop thinking about Ireland without her clothes on. It wasn’t helping him remain rational. Took the blood straight from his brain and sent it south, where no proper decision-making took place.

  Had he actually convinced himself he could keep things casual? God help him if he was wrong. He had enough disasters to deal with, let alone adding a romantic one to the list.

  A high-pitched squeal came from the direction of Wes and Kaylee’s living room.

  Bran looked past his brothers crowding the kitchen, and caught sight of Hunt. Who’d already grabbed the attention of the only single female in the room.

  Bran walked over and stared down at his younger brother, lying on the ground with their baby niece on top of him. “You still got it. She’s drooling all over you.”

  Hunt gave Harlow a goofy grin and raised her above his head, airplane style. “Can I help it if females adore me?”

  The baby giggled, and a drizzle of drool dropped onto Hunt’s T-shirt.

  “Quit hogging her,” Bran said. “I haven’t seen Harlow in a week. Wes has been too busy with the golf course to swing her by the restaurant. Hand her over already.”

  Hunt shot him an aggrieved look and climbed to his feet, baby in one arm. “Only for a minute. I just got her, and I haven’t had my fill.”

  Bran tucked Harlow in his arm and tugged down her lavender dress over her round tummy to her leggings. He made razzing noises on the back of her plump hand.

  Full baby chuckles erupted from her drooling mouth.

  Wes said Harlow was teething, and that was the reason for the excessive spittle, but what did Bran know? He wiped her mouth with the back of his clean button-down sleeve and kissed the top of her head.

  Harlow was the first baby his brothers had been around, and they spoiled the hell out of her. She was also the first female Cade in two generations. Bran’s own generation resulted in five consecutive males. Thus, Harlow was showered with attention and had the full force of five overly protective adult males at her beck and call.

  Kaylee was constantly after them about spoiling Harlow. Not that it made a lick of difference. It wasn’t within the Cade bloodline to allow a female to cry.

  Their baby niece was going to give them hell once she came of age. There’d be fights. There’d be bloodshed. Any men who came within a few feet of Harlow would have 5 six-foot-plus men (and all their friends) breaking limbs if they dared hurt her. Though, admittedly, his niece seemed to have inherited the Cade temper. So maybe they wouldn’t have to worry so much after all. The girl had a pair of lungs, and she knew how to use them.

  Bran sank to the floor and built towers with building blocks, which Harlow knocked over with her chubby baby-Godzilla arms. She rocked back and forth on her tiny bottom for him to do it again. Which, of course, he did.

  That wasn’t spoiling her. That was helping build arm strength. Even Wes would agree it was good training for Harlow’s future golf career.

  Bran lifted the baby and kissed her soft cheek while she made da da da noises, kicking her pudgy little legs and bouncing in his arms. Maybe they’d allow her to date when she turned thirty. If the guy was respectful and treated her like a queen.

  Hunt stood by impatiently and rolled his eyes at Bran. Then his gaze shifted toward the front door as though he heard something above Harlow�
��s squeals, and a wide, predatory grin crossed his face. “Well, look what we have here. Was wondering if she’d show. This one’s elusive. I like that.”

  Bran followed Hunt’s gaze, and his heart missed a beat. Ireland stood with Cali and Jaeg as Wes ushered them inside.

  “Ireland’s off-limits,” Bran said, flinching at his curt, automatic response.

  Hunt eyeballed him. “Since when?”

  No way Bran would lay claim to Ireland. He wanted her, but he’d promised himself it would be casual. That didn’t mean Bran would allow his hound dog of a brother to go after her. “Ireland is Cali’s cousin. Cali will clip off your balls if you hurt her.”

  Hunt covered his groin. “First off, never speak of such things. It makes me queasy. Second, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m a lover of women; they don’t leave my bed unhappy.”

  “But do you commit?”

  Hunt shot him a comical glare. “Hell no.” Hunt’s gaze raked Ireland. “But Ireland is really—”

  “Off-limits.”

  Hunt frowned. “If I didn’t know you were celibate, I’d say you wanted her.”

  Bran shifted the baby to his other arm, and she grabbed on to his shirt with tiny pincer fingers that were strong as hell for something so small. “Just being practical. I’m assuming you’ll want a Harlow of your own one day. You’ll need a pair if you want to accomplish it.”

  Hunt cringed. “Stop talking about my balls as though they’re going somewhere.” He glanced in the direction of the front door and grinned. “Don’t worry about Ireland. I know what I’m doing.”

  He started toward the door, and Bran swung his arm out, slamming into Hunt’s chest. “I’m dead serious.”

  Hunt’s eyes narrowed, and he jerked his chin up. “That’s what I thought. Next time you want to claim a woman, just say so.” He walked off before Bran could argue.

  Didn’t matter. Who cared if his brother thought Bran was interested in Ireland? He was, to a degree. That didn’t mean it was serious.

  Hiking the baby higher, Bran walked toward the kitchen to greet the newcomers. And Ireland. To be polite.

  Ireland was a buttoned-up professional when she came into Prime as a consultant, but the few times Bran had seen her outside of work, she wore clothes that hugged her insane figure. Tonight was one of those nights, and the visual had Bran’s heart tripping over itself. She was miles of natural curves with a gorgeous face, and it killed him.

  Ireland was probably the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Of course he wanted to get close to her. No reason for Hunt to get huffy. Bran’s attraction to Ireland was natural. He was simply trying to figure out how to get close without complications.

  At one time, when he’d first met Ireland, the curvy bombshell look had put him off. It still did—when it came to other women. But he didn’t see Ireland that way anymore. She was more than a beautiful face.

  God knew what kind of damage would happen if Bran fully gave in to his attraction to Ireland. But give in a little? How much could that hurt?

  Bran played it cool. He approached the new arrivals and shook Jaeg’s hand. He greeted Cali next, then turned to Ireland. “Good to see you.”

  Cool. Calm. That was what he was. When the last time he’d been with Ireland, his tongue had been down her throat, and her hands were tearing at the fly of his jeans.

  Bran swallowed, attempted to block out the image or risk embarrassing himself.

  And then the baby grabbed Bran’s nose, tiny fingers all up in his business, reminding him where he was and introducing him back to the land of humility.

  Ireland laughed. “She leads you around by the nose, does she?”

  So much for cool. Bran grabbed the small fingers holding on to his nose and kissed the top of Harlow’s dimpled hand. “Meet Harlow, my niece. She knows how to get my attention.”

  “I like her tactics. Subtle. I’ll have to try it sometime.” The humorous spark in Ireland’s eyes remained.

  “You lead me around in other ways.”

  She lifted her eyebrow.

  Okay, so he was flirting. The harm? A little flirting never hurt anyone. It was the “more” that had nearly killed him last night. That was the first time he’d nearly forgotten protection since high school.

  Ireland cleared her throat. “About last night—it was…unexpected. Don’t feel you need to follow through. We don’t have to-to, uh, continue that.”

  Adam reached over and stole Harlow, and Bran frowned. Damn his brothers. He turned back to Ireland. “You mean our date? Plans are already in place. Unless you’re having second thoughts?”

  She shook her head. “No.” A soft smile settled on her full lips. Lips he’d drowned in…

  Bran rubbed his thumb over his chin, holding back the urge to reach out and continue the kissing frenzy they’d started less than twenty-four hours ago. “What do you think about dinner? Not in a restaurant. Someplace else. Being in the restaurant business typically has me not wanting to hang out in one after work.”

  She cocked her head slightly. “What did you have in mind?”

  “A surprise.”

  “Incoming.” Adam thrust Harlow back into Bran’s arms and rushed away.

  Bran scrambled to control the wiggle worm. “What the…?” He cast a look in Adam’s direction, just as Wes laughed from across the room and held up a diaper bag. Bran stared down at the baby. “Son of a…gun.”

  Wes made his way over. “Looks like Adam made a quick hand-off.” He shoved the diaper bag at Bran.

  Bran tried to hand it back. “You’re the father. This is your job.”

  Wes held up his hands. “Can’t. Got burgers to burn on the barbecue. Besides, I change diapers all day long. This is good practice for you.” Wes walked away, chuckling.

  Bran looked nervously at Ireland. “You ever done this before?”

  “She’s your niece—haven’t you?”

  “No.”

  Ireland covered her mouth, hiding a smile. “This should be interesting.”

  Dammit.

  Chapter 15

  Ireland followed Bran into the living room, which was relatively empty compared to the kitchen and entry that were filled with large Cade men and their significant others.

  She sank to the carpeted floor and tucked her legs beneath her.

  Bran squatted and set Harlow on the carpet, the diaper bag beside his thick thigh. His nose scrunched. “She’s ripe.”

  Ireland cooed at Harlow, who was getting ready to bolt if Bran didn’t pick up the pace. She sent him a side-eye, and caught him frowning at the diaper bag. “You run four restaurants, but you can’t change a diaper?”

  He flashed her a comical glare. “Of course I can change a diaper.” He pulled a diaper from the bag, studying it as though it were a mystical contraption. “How hard can it be?”

  Ireland held back a grin. She and Cali had young cousins, and Ireland had changed a diaper or two in her time. It wasn’t as easy as it looked. Especially with an active baby like Harlow.

  Ireland was making every funny face in the book to keep the baby giggling and in one place while Bran played with the stretchy tabs on the diaper.

  He stared at the baby, shrugged, and tugged off her leggings.

  Ireland raised a finger. “You might want to grab wipes.”

  “Wipes?”

  “For her bottom. You know, before you remove the diaper.”

  “Right.” Bran searched the bag and pulled out a rectangular baby wipe package.

  “And a changing pad,” she added. “To keep the carpet clean.”

  Bran frowned and reached back into the bag, rifling around until he found a rolled-up pad. He set it out, then laid Harlow on top, who promptly tried to wiggle off.

  Bran gently rested one large hand on her tiny chest, tickling her beneath her chin to keep her laughing and in one place.

  “You can wipe her bottom and fold the wipes up in the soiled diaper,” Ireland suggested.

  Both ha
nds occupied with keeping Harlow still, he said, “You sure you don’t want to take over? Or help. I’d take help.”

  “No way,” she said. “Watching you is highly entertaining.”

  Bran grumbled, and Ireland crossed her legs to get comfortable. She considered pulling out her phone for photo evidence, then thought better of it. Bran might chicken out if she drew too much attention to him, and she wanted to witness this event. A muscly, hot guy changing a baby’s diaper? Didn’t get cuter than that.

  Bran examined the diaper on Harlow now that her leggings were off. The poor guy looked frightened.

  Ireland pressed her lips together, holding back laughter. “Everything okay?”

  “Fine,” he grumbled. He pulled at the tabs like he was ripping off a Band-Aid, and the front of the soiled diaper dropped forward.

  Bran closed his eyes and shook his head. “What does my brother feed this kid? How could something so small produce so much…” Harlow started kicking her legs, and Bran’s eyes rounded. “Shi—I mean, shoot.”

  He plucked four or five wipes and started dabbing at Harlow’s bottom like he was cleaning a contamination zone.

  Ireland was laughing now. Loudly. Holding her stomach for support. And drawing eyes from the other side of the room.

  “You’re not helping,” Bran said, sweat beading his brow.

  “Okay…” She sucked in a breath and tried to stifle her giggles. “You hold her legs and wipe, and I’ll distract her.” Ireland reached for a toy across the carpet and dangled it above Harlow’s head, making funny faces while she tried to get the baby to reach for it.

  A flurry of wiping ensued, and then—“Oh God.”

  Ireland looked back. He’d done a fairly good job of cleaning up. “What’s wrong? You’re almost finished.”

  “There’s…stuff…in her…” He held up his hands. “I can’t. Wes! Get your ass in here.”

  “Don’t be a wuss,” came Wes’s loud reply from the outside patio. The sliding glass door was open and Wes was flipping burgers at the grill.

  “I’m going to kill him,” Bran said, and looked at Ireland. “It’s in her…parts. Do I leave it there?”