by Tl Reeve
As I stood to stretch, I glanced at the time and frowned. It was already late, and I hadn’t eaten yet. Breakfast was a staple for me, but when Ireland turned me down, I grabbed a second cup of coffee and finished getting ready. My stomach gave a vicious growl, reminding me I hadn’t so much as scarfed a bagel while at my desk. Sighing, I headed down to the kitchen. We had enough supplies to get us through the rest of the week, so I wasn’t worried about using what was there. As I got to the bottom step, I spotted a familiar face.
“What the hell are you doing here, stranger?” I said, greeting Gareth. “I thought I told you the bet was on after I confirmed the shoddy work of Banks Automotive.”
Gareth chuckled. “Heard from Hunter you left the car. He said you made an ass of yourself.” He shook my hand.
“His assessment is correct,” I said. “I was about to order some lunch, want some?”
“Sure, I could eat.” He followed me toward the kitchen where I put my order in with the chef. We had about an hour or so before the rush would begin. Most were late lunches, but some were early dinners before the younger scene came around to enjoy the nightly atmosphere.
“So, how are things going?” I led him over to the same table I shared with Ireland. It was easier there. I could see the comings and goings while watching my staff. One wrong move, and I could reprimand on the spot or fire them like I did to Oscar the night before. Just thinking about him and what he did to Ireland pissed me the fuck off.
“They’re good.” Gareth folded his scarred hands on the table. He’d busted his knuckles or cut himself more times than I could count when it came to working on vehicles. He had what my grandfather would call working man’s hands. Callused and gnarled. Chewed up and spit out. “You?”
“Can’t complain, and if I could, no one would feel sorry for me.” I grinned. I had two businesses that were steady moneymakers, family, and friends. I had no right to feel down about a damn thing, especially after meeting Ireland.
“So, what’s your take on Banks Automotive?” He said his thanks when one of the afternoon staff brough over a couple of beers and our lunch.
“I was impressed when I arrived. The place is clean, though a bit out of the way and in a shittier part of town.” I shrugged, tucking into the paella “I liked the fact they didn’t leave old engines on the ground.”
Gareth groaned. “If I had a dollar for every time I saw that shit.”
“Me and you both.” I chuckled. “The ‘Cuda in the bay helped ease my mind a little too. So did the Olds I caught a glimpse of on my way out.”
“What about Ireland?” Gareth hedged.
“What about her?” I sat back. I knew they’d give me shit. I’d done the same to them along with some good-natured ribbing. It was a rite of passage. Wes, Jax, and Gareth had all found their Boom. Then they cursed me and said I’d be next. I thought they were joking. Oh, how wrong I was. However, I wasn’t going to make this easy on any of them.
“Well... Do you like her?”
I laughed, leaning back in my chair. “You’re not very good at this. Did Wes and Jax send you to check in with me?
“My ears are ringing. How about yours?” Jax sat down on Gareth’s left side while Wes took the chair to my right.
“Definitely ringing. What’s this about the Boom?” Wes tilted his head to the side, his light-green eyes boring into me. Wes was my best friend and the leader of our MC, the Broken Eagles.
“I didn’t say shit about it,” I muttered. “Gareth brought Ireland up.”
“Oh, she’s the chick with the new garage that only caters to customs and classics.” Jax grinned. “So, is she the one?”
These fucking assholes. They were lucky they were my best friends or else, I’d kick all of them out of my restaurant. I swallowed down the irrational anger and tried to keep my tone even when I spoke. “I’m not discussing my personal life with you guys while we’re in my place of business.” I took a sip of my beer and glanced at each of them. Obviously based on the glints of laughter in their eyes, I hadn’t succeeded. “Drop the subject.”
“Oh, no. See, this is too much fun. I want to hear all the details.” Wes propped his arm on the table and plopped his chin in his hand. “Did she pop your cherry?”
I flipped him off while laughing. “You’re an asshole.” I was by no means a blushing virgin. I had more pussy than I cared to think about, but none of those other women ever compared to Ireland and none of them ever would. “Can’t I take a raincheck on this torment?”
“So, what’s she like?” Jax looked between Gareth and me. “I haven’t seen her yet, only her brothers. Is she hot? Big tits? Nice ass?”
“Watch how you talk about her,” I snapped, and I knew then I done fucked up. They had the in they were looking for, and now they were going to use it against me. Someone shoot me and put me out of my misery.
“When’s the wedding? I want to be the flower girl,” Wes chirped.
That started another round of full body laughs at the table. I swear to God they were dicks when it came to this shit. They couldn’t just be happy for me. No, they had to try to embarrass me to death about my love life. They teased me relentlessly about Ireland. About how good being in love—not that I’d said I was out loud—looked on me. I laughed with them, not angry at all. These assholes were my friends, through and through. They’d do whatever they could to help me out and they understood I’d do the same.
We were family.
“Seriously though,” Jax said, wiping the corner of his eye from laughing too much, “We’re happy for you.”
“Thanks.” I inclined my chin. “Doesn’t mean I’m saying shit about her.”
“Aww, it’s so precious when they’re young and in love,” Gareth said, fluttering his eyelashes. “You can practically see the hearts in his eyes.”
“Or he fucked all the frustration out of his system.” Wes shrugged.
“Again, politely eat shit,” I said. “It’s not like that.”
“Give us something, man,” Jax pleaded. “We don’t want the nitty-gritty, just the basics.”
“She’s got red hair,” Gareth said. “Mack met his match with her. From what Hunter said, she wiped the floor with this poor guy.”
She had, and I’d deserved it. I wouldn’t say as much though. They didn’t need to know how far I’d stuck my foot in my mouth. Ireland threw me off my game. I didn’t fall in love with her—I tripped down the side of a mountain, fell into a briar patch, and got covered by falling debris in love with her. Thinking about her made my chest ache. The way she used her clever tongue on me made my dick rock hard. She was everything I ever wanted rolled up in a tattooed package.
“Who’s Hunter?” Wes cocked a brow. “Competition?”
“Her brother,” I said, wincing slightly when I thought about what I said the night before. “Eldest brother, I believe. She has two more, Landon and Jackson.”
“You said something stupid didn’t you?” Jax snickered.
“Only if you mean talking to her brother like he owned the place not her. Or insinuating she had a boyfriend who was actually her other brother. Then yeah, I said some stupid shit.”
“Oh my God!” Wes cracked up. “This keeps getting better and better.”
I was glad they could laugh at my pain. “This is fucking stupid.”
“No, this is entertainment, buddy,” Gareth chuckled, wiping a tear from his eye before he continued eating.
“I hope all of your daughters end up with assholes like us,” I finally said.
“That’s not the threat you think it is,” Wes said, sobering. “They’ll be lucky to have men who will love them as much as we love their mothers. Congratulations, man.” He placed his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “So, when do we get to meet Ireland?”
“I haven’t given it much thought,” I muttered. “It’s been two days.” Plus, we weren’t officially anything yet—even though I was ready to make her mine. Them asking to meet her was putting the cart bef
ore the horse. Shit didn’t move at a lightning speed, even if I wished it would. “Soon, I hope.”
“You should invite her to Waverly’s birthday,” Gareth stated.
I should. Waverly, my youngest sister, was turning nineteen soon and had just started college in Nashville to become a Registered Nurse. Like Macey, my middle sister, she wanted to stick close to home so she could be with family on the weekends. “I think I will.” I scrubbed my chin. “Thanks for the advice.”
“Add it to my tab.” Gareth pushed his empty plate toward the middle of the table. “I swear, you have the best food here. My compliments to the chef.”
“Excuse me, sir?” Natalie, the newest hostess I’d hired approached the table with a guy who had red hair a shade darker than Ireland’s but the same hue of emerald eyes. “This gentleman said he had an appointment with you?”
“He does.” I glanced over at the crew. “Gentlemen, it’s been real. I’d say it’s been fun, but it hasn’t.” I stood then and held my hand out to Jackson Banks. “I’m Mack Redman. You must be Ireland’s brother, Jackson.”
The guy nodded as we turned away from the table. Behind us, I could hear the guys saying shit. What, I wasn’t sure, so I focused my attention on Ireland’s little brother. He wasn’t covered in grease like Hunter, Landon, or Ireland. He was clean cut, professional. He even wore his culinary school uniform. When he reached out his hand to shake mine, I caught a glimpse of a lips tattoo with a name and date under it along with the black gauge earrings in his ears. He sure as hell didn’t look like he belonged in a garage surrounded by tattooed gearheads, but being in the culinary uniform didn’t fit his image either.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. Not sure why Ireland said to come in my uniform if I’m only picking up a recipe, yet here I am, looking like a dork,” Jackson said then cleared his throat.
I started for the kitchen, and Jackson kept up with me.
“I’m surprised as well.” I didn’t want this to be an awkward meeting. Casual would’ve been perfect, but I could also see Ireland pulling this kind of stunt with her brothers. They must be pranksters. “However, since you’re dressed for the occasion...” I pushed open the kitchen doors and stepped to the side. “Welcome to Flame’s main hub of operations.”
“Uh... Thanks?” Jackson’s brows furrowed. His gaze darted from counter to stove to tandoors. Most restaurant kitchens were cramped, so I liked the open layout of Flames. It gave the staff tons of room to work without stepping on each other’s toes. The ranges were against the back walls while the ovens faced the alley behind the business. I even had a stone oven specifically for making artisan pizzas for the lunch crowd. “It’s a nice place.”
I laughed. “Ireland wanted my recipe for the risotto. I told her she could have it on one condition.”
“What was the condition?” Jackson hedged. “You’re not some asshole who gets off on making women do your bidding are you?”
Protective. Good. Ireland deserved to have brothers who would always defend her, no matter what. “No. I wanted you to come by. I have an offer for you.”
“I’m not... gay, man.” Still perplexed, Jackson stepped farther into the kitchen to have a better look around.
“Good, because neither am I,” I said, trying to hold back a laugh. “The condition was for you to come here and work for me. See, I’ll give you the recipe if you can make it just like our head chef, Sacha Matthieu.” I motioned to the man who joined us after plating up a dish for a customer.
“Shit.” Jackson’s shoulders slumped then he gave a weak chuckle. “I read this whole situation wrong. Sorry about the earlier comment, man. Can we chalk it up to me being dead fucking tired?”
“Nothing to it,” I replied. “How long have you been in culinary school?” We walked over to the counter where Sacha put out all the ingredients for the risotto.
“This is my second year, so I’m past all the simple tasks. I’ve been a sous chef at the school for about three months, learning the process and helping out when the school takes on catering gigs with the upper classmen, and such.”
“Impressive,” Sacha murmured. “I will show you how to make this once, then I want you to follow the instructions on your own and make it the same way. Oui?”
“Yes, Chef,” Jackson said then glanced at me. “Are you sure my sister only wanted risotto?”
I grinned. “Yeah. She said it was the best she’d ever eaten and promised to knock all of my strikes off if I gave her the recipe.”
Jackson snorted. “Sounds like her.”
“Also, if you can make it as well as Sacha does, I’m offering you a weekend job. I don’t want to interfere with your schooling, so I figured Friday nights and Saturdays, maybe Sunday brunch would give you some cash and some experience in a Five Star restaurant.”
“Holy shit,” Jackson deadpanned, then stumbled as he tried to speak. “Thank you, Mack—er Mr. Redman. I appreciate it. Truly.”
“It’s Mack, and you’re welcome. Now, impress me.”
Chapter Four
Ireland
* * *
The heavy beat of drums combined with Dave Grohl screaming In Your Honor through the garage speakers wasn’t doing a lick of good with my pounding headache. After I had control of the music for the last couple of days, Hunter had made a point to get to the shop early so he chose what was played.
Asshole. He was always late, and the one time, the one time, I was by no more than five minutes, he decided to be the responsible sibling and show up forty-five minutes before the shop should be opened to customers.
I’m so screwed, I told myself while rubbing my temples. If he kept with his music choices, at some point, I’d have to stage a coup. I couldn’t take much more of this.
As it was, Mack’s Aston Martin was up on the lift, patiently waiting for me to begin running a diagnostic, however, it’d have to wait until my third cup of coffee was finished. Maybe not even then.
I sighed. Mack... Last night was—unexpected. Not in a bad way either. I’d been wary the first day I met Mack, so allowing myself to relax around him and enjoy the evening opened my eyes to the possibilities. Not to mention what happened once I went up to his apartment with him. I groaned. I never, ever had sex or even fooled around on the first date, but with Mack it had been natural. I should’ve been nervous, however the minute his mouth touched mine, all thoughts fled from my mind. We didn’t even have sex either. When we did, because I knew at some point we would, I’d be ruined. I’d met my match with Mack Redman. The idea should’ve scared the shit out of me, yet it didn’t.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
“Yo,” Landon hollered out from the open bay. “Heads up.”
I glanced up as he stepped into the main area of the garage, a big bag in his arm filled with food for breakfast. When he threw the tin foil package at me, I lifted my hand to snag it out of the air. It was warm still, and the smell made my stomach churn. I wasn’t quite sure if it was due to being hungry or the alcohol I indulged in last night. “Thanks?” I grimaced.
Landon pointed at the sandwich I held in my hands. “This is the perfect hangover cure. It’s a toasted everything bagel filled with a fried egg, greasy bacon, and gooey cheese.”
To me, it sounded like a normal breakfast. “Okay.”
“Here.” Hunter placed a bottle of water on my desk as I tucked into my food. “I shouldn’t have to say this, but you do know you should be drinking water not coffee. The caffeine will only make your hangover worse.”
“Know-it-all,” I mumbled before taking another small bite. The salt of the bacon hit the sharpness of the cheddar along with the egg. I sighed, eating a bit more. I didn’t want to push myself and end up puking my guts up behind the garage.
“Nah, just older and wiser when it comes to hangovers.”
This was true.
Although I loved the wine, last night was a fluke. I rarely got drunk. It just wasn’t my thing. I liked having control of my body and mind. Being
drunk usually led to doing something stupid, and I already had enough stupid in my life.
Landon took a bite of his sandwich before saying, “You didn’t come home last night.”
I cocked a brow at my second oldest brother. What was his point? I didn’t mention to any of them when they stayed out. It happened often with both of them. Jackson couldn’t legally drink, but he seemed more focused on schooling than sex. Although, I could be wrong with him.
“And?”
Landon shrugged. “And nothing. Just not something you normally do. We kind of got worried.”
Some conversations between siblings should be off-limits. This happened to be one of them, even if I did appreciate their concern. “I’m not sure it’s any of your business.” I hated the defensive tone in my voice. I should’ve been honest with them and told them the truth—I spent the night with Mack because I got drunk.
Hunter snorted. “Relax, we’re being overprotective shitheads, Ireland. You’re hungover, which means you were drinking last night—”
“Yeah, we really want to know if we have to go beat the shit out of Mack for taking advantage of our intoxicated baby sister,” Landon added.
Leave it to Landon to be blunt.
I snorted in amusement. Mack wouldn’t go down willingly. I was almost sure Mack could take them, even with as strong as my brothers were. Those expensive suits he wore effectively hid his muscular physique which spoke of the power and strength of his body. His polished appearance did its job, hiding all his tattoos, giving him the façade of the classic, eloquent businessman. A tingle of arousal spread through me just thinking about him along with a giddiness I couldn’t quite place.
“Nothing happened.” I outright lied, more than ready to be done with this conversation. My nosey Nelly brothers in no way needed to know how Mack made me experience an earth-shattering orgasm. With. His. Fingers. I could only imagine what it was going to feel like when he used other parts of his anatomy. “He was a perfect gentleman last night and again this morning.”