“We haven’t had a bit of rain in over two weeks. The woods are growing dryer than a nun’s tits. We won’t be having any bonfires this side of the forest any time soon, that’s for sure.”
Braydon’s mother’s language jerked Sam’s attention away from her inspection of the house. She couldn’t remember ever hearing her own mother say tits. Her mother could barely say breasts and that included discussing a cut of chicken for dinner.
Sam kept up with the two, keeping an ear open for comments pertaining to her, as she eyed her surroundings with covert curiosity. A grin flourished across her face when she realized the log home was authentic inside and out. The perfectly stacked logs matched the wooden tongue and groove planks covering the floor and ceiling.
Following the others into a kitchen, she was impressed by the wooden cabinetry. Sam could tell immediately, even with no architectural background, that the woodwork was all custom made. The designer, whoever he was, clearly took a lot of care in carving out every detail down to the mortise and tenon joints that interlocked the sturdy framework.
She took a seat next to Braydon at the large farm table filling the enormous kitchen while Maureen informed her son of the family’s current events, speaking with agreeable frankness.
“Kate’s here, but she couldn’t wait up. Her sciatica’s been bothering her something fierce this time around. Not that I minded her making her excuses early. I’ll warn you now, Bray. Your sister’s been leaving air biscuits in every room. You know, with Frankie it was her ankles, with Skylar it was the heartburn, with Hannah it was her sciatica, with this one it seems it’s her arse. She’s all those ails and now farts too! She’s makin’ my house smell like a pile of cabbage shite, that’s what she’s doing.”
“Mum!”
“Well, she is. But don’t tell her I told you so. She’s weepier than a willow tree this pregnancy. There’s no wonder why Anthony decided to wait until tomorrow to get here.”
Sam had no idea what to make of Braydon’s mother. Maureen continued to speak with hybrid comments filled with loving and crass observations about the McCulloughs while she bustled about the kitchen heating leftovers.
Sam noticed a microwave tucked between two raised cabinets, but Maureen continued to pull out pots and pans as she heated up food. Sam was willing to make the assumption that a women like Maureen never used a microwave. In just the brief few minutes she’d been in her presence, she could already tell Maureen McCullough was a woman who took great pride in working hard for her family and would scoff at shortcuts.
When the food was heated she placed a hefty bowl of stew in front of Braydon and Sam. There was also a bowl of roasted potatoes seasoned in rosemary and a basket of homemade biscuits wrapped in a dishcloth with red ticking that looked hand sewn.
The food was different than anything she ever tried in the city or anything she ever saw her own mother make, but it was still quite good. As Maureen prattled on about Frank, Braydon’s father, Sam watched Braydon shut his eyes in pleasure as his mother’s cooking settled into his belly.
Sam smiled. Most comfort food was embellished because it came from a mother’s love. Braydon obviously tasted more than just stew with each bite. He tasted recipes shaped by traditions and was likely remembering memories of being in this familiar place. She was happy to witness this settling side of him. She liked watching Braydon at home.
Once she finished her supper, Sam pushed her bowl away. Without pausing for even a syllable, Maureen chattered on as she stood and carried the dishes to the sink and began washing them. The kitchen was clearly her domain. She navigated through the motions of tidying up without ever taking her eyes off Sam or her son.
It occurred to Sam that her anxiety about being here had disappeared the moment she met Maureen McCullough. She analyzed the women and wondered what magical gift she held that made her able to put guests at such ease. Maurine was a natural when it came to hospitable courtesy, even if she didn’t necessarily follow propriety.
As they all laughed at an anecdote Maureen shared about a woman at the butcher, Sam decided that for as much as she loved the McCulloughs' log cabin, she loved their mother more.
Contrary to her first impression, Samantha saw the beautiful woman that was Maureen McCullough. She imagined her hair was once a fiery red to match her spicy personality although now it was more fawn colored with natural highlights in the deepest shade of orange. Laugh lines softened her dark green eyes. Her clipped un-manicured fingernails spoke volumes about how no nonsense she was when it came to taking on the labors of mothering seven children.
At first her brisk mannerisms made Maureen come off as abrasive, Sam would now describe her as soft. Not due to her round bosom or generous curves, but because of the way Maureen would titter and giggle in between stories with absolute femininity, her eyes twinkling like a little girl's. It didn’t matter how many times she said bollocks or cock in a sentence. It was all just noise coming from a sweet, loving woman with a dirty mouth.
They talked until well after one in the morning. After such a heavy meal and four hours of travel, Sam was ready to call it a night. They still had to carry in their bags from the car. The idea of carrying anything at this hour made sleeping in her travel clothes tempting.
Maureen said, “Well, I’m off to bed. I’ll see you two in the morning for breakfast.” And with that she was gone.
Braydon’s mother bustled out of the kitchen and climbed the steps. When Sam turned back to Braydon, he was smiling.
“What?” she asked.
“What do you think?”
Seeing no need to lie, Sam smiled and admitted, “I love her.”
He beamed and Sam was certain he was about to kiss her, but the front door opened and someone yelled, “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph has the prodigal son returned?”
Braydon pulled back and groaned as he stood from his seat when a young man with rakishly spiked hair and sharp crystal blue eyes came into the kitchen.
“Kelly,” he greeted as he embraced his younger brother in a backslapping hug.
Ah, so this is the loner.
“It’s good to have you home, my brother.”
“Good to be home.”
They broke apart and Kelly turned to Sam. He leered at her with faintly sinister amusement while she tried not to bristle under his scrutiny.
Whoa. That expression should be photographed and put in the dictionary under the word smolder.
“Well, hello, pretty lady. I see you’ve come with the wrong brother, but I’d be glad to remedy that for ya and make sure you come again.”
Braydon shoved his brother out of the way. “Kelly, this is my girlfriend, Samantha.”
“Braydon, don’t interrupt me when I’m speaking with the lassies. How long are you here for, beautiful?”
Sam wasn’t sure if Kelly realized he was pissing his brother off, but she didn’t really want to get in the middle.
“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.”
* * *
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Other Books by Lydia Michaels
La Vie en Rose
“Heart Wrenchingly Beautiful!”
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Blind (FREE)
Untied
First Comes Love (FREE)
If I Fall
Something Borrowed
Protégé
“Secret Kink Society!”
Simple Man
“Unexpected Baby/Fatherhood”
The Surrender Trilogy
“Drama, Betrayal, Scandal, Oh my!”
The McCullough Mountain Series
(Book #1 FREE)
The Degrees of Separation Trilogy
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The Calamity Rayne Series
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“Hauntingly Dark Romance! A Masterpiece!”
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About the Author
Lydia Michaels is the Award Winning and Bestselling author of over thirty-five contemporary romance novels. Her favorite things are coffee, the Jersey shore during the off-season, snuggling, and unforgettable love stories inspired by real people.
Lydia is the two-time winner of the 2018 & 2019 Author of the Year Award by Happenings Media, as well as the 2014 Best Author Award from the Courier Times. Her work has been featured in USA Today, Romanti
c Times Magazine, and more. As the host and founder of the East Coast Author Convention, the Behind the Keys Author Retreat, and Read Between the Wines, she continues to celebrate her growing love for readers and romance novels around the world.
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