9781618857613SacredWaterMichaels

by Lydia Michaels

  “Three weeks.”

  He made an expression that Sam could only describe as disappointment.

  “That, love, is a shame. Three weeks with this lot and you’ll be crazy as a loon by the time you head home. I can’t be exposing myself to anymore crazies.” He leaned in a theatrically whispered, “You see, they all know I’m the McCullough with the biggest cock and, the crazies, well, they don’t like to share.”

  This time when Braydon shoved his brother Kelly actually stumbled and landed in a kitchen chair. “Shut up, moron. She’s not one of your trollops.”

  Kelly laughed. “Oh, now Bray, it isn’t kind to call your friends’ mothers trollops.”

  “I don’t even want to know what friends you’re referring to, but I hope they kick your ass when they find out you're diddling their mums. You’re disgusting. Samantha, I’m going to get our bags. Kelly, try not to repulse or corrupt her within the next three minutes.”

  “Oh, come on now, Bray. I’m not you. Give me a little credit. I cannot corrupt a beautiful woman in three minutes. With stamina like mine I’ll ask for at least an hour.”

  Braydon rolled his eyes heavenward in clear frustration. Truthfully though, Sam was having a hard time not laughing. As Braydon walked toward the door he turned and said, “You know what, Kelly?”

  “What, big brother?”

  “Take that big cock you’re so proud of and go fuck yourself.”

  With that he stomped out of the house.

  Kelly turned back toward Sam and was smiling at her as if they shared a secret. She finally gave into her smile and said, “You’re mean.”

  He laughed. “Not mean, smart. You’ll see. Everyone around here kisses Bray’s arse. I make sure he doesn’t get ahead of himself and grow too cocky.”

  “Ha! And you’re not cocky?”

  He gave her a wicked half smile and said, “Samantha, love, I thought I already made it clear, out of all the McCullough men, I’m the cockiest.”

  Braydon walked in and dropped the bags onto the wood floor. “You ready to head up to bed, Samantha?”

  “Where am I sleeping?”

  “In my room with me.”

  It took her a minute to find her words. Kelly was distracted with making some kind of sandwich, but Sam was certain he wasn’t missing a single word. “Braydon, I cannot share your room. This is your parents’ house.”

  “So?”

  “So it’s rude and not proper.”

  “They won’t care.”

  “Well, I’m sorry, but I care. I’ll sleep on the couch, but I can’t sleep in your bed with you.”

  “Samantha, that’s ridiculous. I’m twenty-three. They know I’m not a virgin. They probably assume we spend the night together all the time at school.”

  She gasped. “Well, we don’t!” Realizing she wasn’t telling Braydon anything he didn’t already know she turned to Kelly and affirmed, “We don’t.”

  He smiled as he prepared to take a bite of his sandwich. “Don’t get your knickers in a bunch over what I think. I don’t judge. I am a gentleman though, so I will say, if you don’t want to share Bray’s bed you can use mine.”

  She pursed her lips and rolled her eyes. “Let me guess, you’d be willing to keep me warm too.”

  “Samantha—”

  “Ah, love, my bed's never cold.”

  Before things got heated Sam held up her hands and interrupted them both. “Look, I’m not sharing anyone’s bed. Kelly, since you have room in yours I’m sure your brother would appreciate half of it. I was up late writing papers all week, I’ve just traveled all night, and it’s well past two in the morning. I’m going to bed. Braydon, we can work out better arrangements in the morning, but for now I’d appreciate it if you showed me to your room.”

  Kelly must have found her speech very amusing. He smiled grandly and said, “Dear God, Braydon, if you don’t marry her, I will. You must be amazing in bed, aren’t you, love?”

  She groaned. “Braydon, show me where your room is.”

  She scooped up her larger suitcase as she left the kitchen and followed Braydon up the stairs. The wood creaked as they climbed the steps. The second floor was as dark and silent as a tomb.

  “I can’t believe you're sticking me with Kelly,” Braydon whispered.

  “Well believe it. I can’t believe you expected me to share your bed under your parents’ roof.”

  He let the comment go, but Sam could tell he was irritated.

  She didn’t think she was being irrational. His family didn’t know her. She was here for the duration of the next month. How difficult would it be to sit across from them at the breakfast table if they were all thinking about what a whore she was? No, she could not share his bed. Tomorrow she’d see if there were better arrangements for him, but for her first night this would have to do.

  Braydon opened a door and flipped on a light. The room was painted slate gray with matching bedding. The furniture was modern with sharp geometric angles. The only thing inside the room that remotely complimented the style of the house was the gray and white fur blanket at the foot of the bed and a skull with six points of antlers hanging from the wall. There was a large gray metal cabinet with a lock taking up a good portion of the room.

  “What’s that?”

  “Gun safe.” Braydon was obviously being short with her.

  “You hunt?”

  “Everyone hunts around here.”

  “Did you kill that?” she asked pointing to the antlers hanging on the wall.

  “That was my first big kill. Got it with an arrow when I was thirteen.”

  Samantha had a hard time assimilating the Braydon she knew from Villanova with the Braydon who cursed in an Irish tongue and shot animals with a bow and arrow. She suddenly longed for the comfort she experienced earlier in Maureen’s presence, because up here in Braydon’s bedroom she felt very alone and confused.

  Braydon placed her bags at the foot of the bed and opened a drawer to pull out some clothing Sam assumed he’d sleep in. Without looking at her he briefly opened up a door on the right side of the bed.

  “Here’s your bathroom. It has a shower and everything you need. The closet’s over there if you want to hang anything up. Kelly’s room’s two doors down the hall if you need anything. I guess I’ll see you at breakfast.”

  He began to walk out into the hall and Sam felt the weight of guilt.

  “Braydon, wait.”

  He paused and looked at her.

  This was his room. She was being selfish. He invited her here so she wouldn’t spend her break alone and now she was forcing him out of his room and into a room with a brother who clearly irritated him. But his presumption that they’d go from a few shared kisses and dates to sharing a bed took her off guard and she didn’t want him to assume too much.

  “I…” Yet she still didn’t want to give his family the wrong impression. Maybe Maureen would understand, but she had yet to meet the other nine hundred McCulloughs. Who knew what they’d think of their brother shacking up with her? She’d have to wait and see. “Maybe tomorrow you could sleep here and I’ll see about sharing one of your sister’s rooms.”

  “Don’t sweat it. I’m just tired. It’s fine. Really.”

  He appeared fine, but Sam suspected he was trying to keep the peace.

  She walked over to him and gently kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

  He ran his hand over her ponytail and playfully tugged the end.

  “You’re welcome, Samantha. Goodnight. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Chapter Two

  Sam awoke to the echo of rolling thunder. The unusual sound had her immediately opening her eyes, reminding her she was in an unfamiliar place. She was in Braydon’s bed at the McCulloughs’.

  The roar of thunder sounded again, only this time it sounded more like a stampede coming from the hall. Elephantine footsteps echoed up and down the narrow wood flooring of the hall followed by an excited shriek and bubbling laughter. Sam sat up and
pushed away the soft fur blanket twisted around her waist.

  She climbed out of bed and stretched. What time was it? She walked to the window and pulled aside the drapes. The isolated splendor that greeted her took her breath away. Sitting in front of the reddening dawn were enormous mountains with nothing but flush pine trees sitting upon their shoulders.

  The green rolling hills were bathed in roseate tints as the golden sun slowly climbed over the fleecy clouds to claim its place in the eastern sky. Breathtaking. This was nothing like the scrubby forelands of the New Jersey Coast. This was nature at its purest, so tremendous and humbling.

  For the first time in a long time, Sam thought of God. Only he could create such perfection.

  The stampede sounded from the hall again. Sam moved quietly to the bedroom door and peeked out to find the culprit. Because she was wearing only a pale blue cotton tank top and white cotton briefs, she made sure not to open the door more than a crack.

  A cloud of black hair rushed by fast enough to send a small puff of wind over Sam’s uncovered calves. Just as Sam processed that it was a little girl in a cupcake nightgown, a small boy yelled and charged down the hall in full battle cry. The girl shrieked and the boy gave a villainous laugh. Uncontrollable, nervous giggles escaped the child’s lips as the boy neared, backing her into a corner.

  Suddenly they both burst out laughing as the boy shouted, “You’re it!”

  “Skylar! Frankie!”

  The children stilled and looked down the stairs toward the adult female voice Sam couldn’t see the owner of. “Don’t make me come up there and knock the beef off ya! People are sleeping. Come down here and eat your breakfast.”

  The little girl looked up at the older boy nervously, now seeing him as her protector rather than her playful predator. “Told you it was early.”

  “You started it. Ah well, come on. Let’s go get Hannah.”

  The children tromped down the steps, still unaware of how loudly their steps fell. Sam shut the door and smiled. This house was nothing like her home.

  The smell of bacon permeated the halls and lingered in her room. Once the days started around here, the McCulloughs likely didn’t stop until well past dusk. If she wanted to join the others, she’d better get dressed and be prepared for anything.

  She lifted her suitcase to the bed and unzipped the cover. Flipping through her items she pulled out a pair of khaki shorts and a fitted white tee. Unfolding the clothes, she laid them out on her bed, placing a fresh pair of cotton panties and a bra on top.

  She frowned at the wrinkles, but decided they’d have to do for now. After retrieving her toiletry bag and a towel from her suitcase she moved toward the bathroom. She turned the knob and wondered if Braydon brought in her other bag that held her sneakers. She wanted to explore today and sneakers would probably be—

  There, standing naked in her bathroom, was a man – a beautiful man.

  All thoughts fell out of Samantha’s head like a spilt jar of marbles scattering out of reach. Standing stock-still, mouth agape, personal items clutched to her chest, she stared—openly gawked in dumb shock—at the vision before her.

  She must’ve been taken him by surprise as well, because he stood still as a statue, his damp hair clotted in sharp spikes in every direction, his shoulders still coated with a sprinkling of droplets from his recent shower, and nothing but a towel dangling from his left hand suspended just between his well-defined hips.

  Holy mother of God, Sam had never seen such a breathtaking show of nakedness.

  His olive skin smoothly caressed the muscles climbing his torso like a Jacob’s Ladder. His tapered hips led to toned thighs, strong calf muscles sprinkled in dark hair, and two big tanned feet.

  “Pardon me. I forgot to lock the door,” he said in a deep voice that was wholly masculine.

  Her gaze jumped to his and she had to actually think hard in order to make sense of his words.

  He was beautiful. Tall, with short hair blacker than a raven’s wing. His defined jaw was clean-shaven. His lips looked soft and slightly pinker than his olive pigment. His nose was straight, enunciating the symmetrical perfection of his face. Stunning blue-green eyes stared back at her.

  He couldn’t have been more than thirty, but his eyebrows added something appealing to his visage, made him appear more distinguished, older than she assumed he truly was. Two perfectly black slashes she suddenly had the urge to smooth the soft pad of her thumb over pulled together as he frowned at her.

  Her eyes returned to his deep sapphire ones. He was staring at her expectantly.

  “I…” A thousand words ran through her head. Stunning. Ass. Bite. Lick. Sweat. Entwined. Thrust. None of them remotely appropriate for the situation.

  Her faltering tongue seemed to take up the weight and space of a battleship in her mouth. If she tried to form words only clumsy talk would fall past her lips making the situation worse.

  Embarrassed, Samantha hastily turned and slammed the bathroom door, closeting herself away in Braydon’s room and shutting out the beautiful man.

  * * * *

  Braydon smelled sausage and bacon and sighed contentedly. His mother was cooking. Without opening his eyes he reveled in the familiarity of being home. Focusing on the distant sounds of his family bustling about below, warmth spread through his chest.

  His smile faltered as the weight of strong arms holding him registered with his brain. That’s not right. He suddenly opened his eyes and jack-knifed off the bed.

  “Get off me, you fucking pervert!”

  “What? We were snuggling,” Kelly complained.

  Braydon groaned. “There’s no way I’m spending another night in here with you.”

  “I think that sassy piece of fluff you brought back from college may have something to say about that.”

  “Her name is Samantha and she’ll get over it. Once she meets Dad and the others and realizes they don’t care about stuff like that she’ll be fine.”

  Kelly laughed and rolled over.

  Braydon frowned. “What’s so funny?”

  “You. I never thought I’d see the day when the golden son couldn’t bed the girl he wanted.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Nah, I’ll just watch you try and fuck Samantha. Has she even let you sample the goods yet, brother? No, don’t answer. I can tell she hasn’t. I suggest you go ask Mum to get you a bag of ice, because I’m guessing your bollocks will be bluer than a smurf’s before you head back to school.”

  Braydon threw a pillow at his younger brother and stomped out into the hall. After using the bathroom he went to his room to retrieve some clothes.

  His fist knocked, but there was no answer so he entered. Samantha’s clothes were set out on the bed and the soft, trickling rush coming from the adjoining bathroom. She was in the shower. He wanted to bridge the gap from the platonic purgatory Sam seemed to be holding them in and move their relationship to the next level.

  He considered popping in on her to see what she’d do, but figured that wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of him and Sam would likely freak. Rather, he quickly dressed and headed downstairs to join the rest of his relatives.

  As he came down the stairs he heard his younger sister Sheilagh talking. “Well, what does she look like?”

  He paused by the door to the kitchen to see how his mother would answer her question.

  “She’s pretty enough. Plain like. Quiet. I cannot say I see her being right for your brother though.”

  “So you don’t like her.”

  “Now, I did not say that. I like her just fine. She’s polite, Irish, sweet, easy to talk to. I just never imagined Braydon settling with someone like her. She surprised me. That’s all.”

  Braydon shoulders sagged like sails turned out from the wind and betrayed by the weather. He deserved a decent woman and suffered no misconceptions about his appearance. He was tall, fit, heading toward a successful career. Resentment tickled his spine as his confidence wavered.

  “There
’s nothing wrong with plain,” he heard his older sister, Kate, declare.

  If ever there were a champion of Braydon’s, Katherine was it.

  “I imagine it would take a simpler kind of girl to leave the city and not be turned off by Center County. It isn’t like we’re anything fancy out here.”

  He wondered at their use of words like “simple” and “plain”. Samantha lacked the lace and frills of most females of his generation, but she was by no means lacking. She was pretty. Of course her type of pretty was inconsistent with what he normally deemed beautiful. Typically he leaned toward leggy blondes. Samantha had a nice set of legs, but he never saw her in any kind of high heels.

  Still, she always looked nice. Samantha was smart and easy to spend time with. She was graduating and becoming an English teacher in the fall. She was wife material. Braydon always imagined he’d meet his wife in college and get married soon after graduation.

  With only a year left to graduate he figured he better start shopping in the wife department. Samantha Dougherty was model wife material. What wasn’t to like?

  “I’ve no doubt Samantha will enjoy the land,” his mother added. “I could see it in her eyes how taken she was with our home. I imagine when she sees the territory in the light of day it’ll take her heart for a spin.”

  “Does Braydon love her?” Kate wondered. “Do you think she’ll break his heart?”

  “Ah, my boy must first give his heart in order to risk having it broken. When Braydon finds the woman he’ll marry you’ll all know it. She’ll own every bit of his soul and he’ll be hopelessly ruined for all other women. I saw it with your father. I saw it with your Uncle Paulie, and I saw it with Anthony when he asked to marry you, Katie.

  “Braydon thinks he’s ready to settle down, but he isn’t. He isn’t ready to let go of reason enough to let someone else in, to truly fall in love. And anything less than true love is a sham, one I certainly would not want to see a child of mine settle for. This woman’s a good girl and she seems to understand exactly what she and my son share. Braydon’s making assumptions, but I believe Samantha doesn’t have a misleading bone in her body. She will clear the air soon enough. At least before he makes a complete arse out of himself.”