Three Irish Brothers: A Reverse Harem Romance (Quick & Dirty Book 1) Read online

  I let out a soft giggle. Aiden rewards me with a shy smile.

  “What did he say?” Fionn demands, but I’m too busy watching Aiden’s hands to reply.

  “And Killian,” he continues, “he loves me, but he’s too busy for such trivial things. He has…a lot on his plate.”

  “Well, you can sign with me, then. I’ll be living around this area for a while.” If I make it alive to this farm I’m supposed to be staying at.

  Aiden smiles wide and a dimple pokes out on his left cheek, making him look so boyish. “I’d like that. I don’t…have many friends.” His smile changes, falters, a deep sadness showing beneath the surface. I’m reminded of the Mona Lisa painting with the sorrow behind her smile.

  What happened to you, Aiden? I ask with my eyes but don’t dare to sign.

  You don’t want to know, he seems to reply with his.

  Savannah

  Killian pulls up in front of a grocery store in town. The town is cute and so quaint, with gorgeous little houses set among tidy gardens bursting with flowers. It looks nothing like the dirty, smelly, concrete jungle I fled from.

  The four of us climb out of the truck and congregate on the wide footpath.

  The drizzle has stopped entirely and there’s actual sun peeking out from behind the clouds, now fluffy and white. The weather here is as changeable as hell, I’m beginning to realize. Still, I begin to feel like everything just might turn out okay.

  “Go on in, Aiden,” Killian says in a soft voice to Aiden, patting him on the shoulder and slipping him folded notes with the other hand. “We’ll wait here. You know what to get.”

  The affection Killian has in his tone for his younger brother warms my heart. And I know he’s sending Aiden in there on his own as a sign of trust in him.

  Hmm. Perhaps the grumpy bastard isn’t as bad as he seems.

  Aiden smiles up at Killian, respect and love clear on his face before he nods and disappears into the shop. Killian catches my eye and scowls. I suspect he’s going to tell me to fuck off now.

  “Fionn,” he barks. “Ye better go see Cormac and tell him where to find her car to get it towed.”

  Does he think I’m fucking incompetent? “Excuse me, but I think I can organize getting my car fixed myself. You’ve done enough to help, thanks.” My voice is dripping with snark.

  Killian snorts as he eyes me up and down. “No offense, girl, but if you ask him to tow and fix yer car for ye, he’ll see ye comin’ a mile away and take ye for a ride. Let Fionn do it.”

  Killian is so demanding. So bossy. So damn infuriating. I want to kiss the shit out of him. Slap! I mean, slap the shit out of him.

  Jesus, Savannah.

  “Fine,” I say through gritted teeth as I fist my hands into my pockets so I don’t grab Killian around the neck and do just that. “Thanks for your help, Fionn.”

  “Anything for you, pretty lady.” Fionn winks before he strides off to wherever he’s going, presumably to organize getting my car fixed by this Cormac fellow, who I assume is a mechanic. I think. I hope.

  It’s just Killian and me now.

  I glare at him as he glares back. I can’t help but think how damn good-looking he is, even with that scowl on his face. Perhaps the scowl makes him hotter. As if he knows what I’m thinking, it deepens.

  Yeah, it definitely makes him hotter.

  “Are ye going to stand around gawking at me all day,” he demands, “or are ye going to call whoever it is that cares?”

  Asshole.

  Beautiful asshole.

  “I am not gawking.”

  “Yeah, ye are.”

  “If I’m gawking, so are you.”

  He shakes his head. “Never seen someone so out of place here.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  He waves his hand at me as if he’s batting a fly. “First of all, look at what you’re wearing.”

  I stare down at my outfit, a cream cashmere sweater tucked into a high-waisted mandarin, black and cream plaid wool skirt, teamed with diamante opaque tights and latte-colored knee-high boots. Sure it’s crinkled from a six-and-a-half hour flight and over two hours in the car, but I still think I look fabulous.

  I look back up to the asshole brother. “You have something against Burberry?”

  He frowns. “Burber-what now?”

  I roll my eyes. Uncultured ass. “Bur-ber-ry,” I pronounce as if he was dumb. “The brand name.”

  “Brand names,” he mutters. “See, there’s your first mistake. Your second… Jaysus, I don’t even know where to start.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You’re in the west coast of Ireland, girl. There’s no room here for your fancy skirts and fancy shoes and fancy ass car and your…your damn blueberry brand.”

  “Burberry.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Asshole,” I mutter.

  He snorts. “Call someone who cares.”

  “I will,” I practically yell, startling a passerby walking into the store.

  I rummage through my bag—a blue limited-edition Chloe bag, fuck you very much—and find my new phone. Thank God, it has reception. Barely. I can see that tiny single bar there. But one bar is all I need. Just hang on for me, little bar.

  I find the number I need and ring it.

  Coincidentally, a phone starts blaring in Killian’s pocket. He yanks out his phone from his pocket and answers. “Yeah?”

  I hear the echo of Killian’s rich, deep voice in my ear, sliding down my spine. I imagine him standing close enough to talk in my ear this way for real, making me shiver.

  Until I realize what the hell this means.

  “Killian, why are you answering this call?”

  Kilian flinches, then stares at me. “Why the feck are you calling my number?”

  Oh. No.

  “What did you say your last name is?” I ask, a panic rising in me.

  “O’Callaghan.”

  O’Callaghan…

  Oh. Shit.

  It couldn’t be.

  “The O’Callaghans that live on Nore Valley Farm?”

  “Yeah…” Killian says slowly, “how the hell do ye know that?”

  I try to swallow but fail. I can’t decide whether the knot in my throat is from dread or excitement. Or both.

  The O’Callaghans were the ones who just accepted my volunteer application.

  I am supposed to be staying with the three of them at their farm.

  The O’Callaghan brothers are my new bosses.

  Savannah

  Nore Valley Farm is a cattle farm with a rambling single-level farmhouse set on acres of pastures framed by stone walls and thick bushes covered in those yellow wildflowers.

  The room I’m to stay in is simple but clean, a double bed in the center made up in faded gray and yellow bedsheets, a window with a seat overlooking the emerald fields beyond.

  It’s about half the size of my old bedroom. There’s no vanity mirror, no walk-in wardrobe, no en suite. I’m to share the single bathroom down the hall with the three boys. This makes me hesitate for just a second. I’ve never had to share a bathroom with anyone. Not even Theo. He and I had our own his-and-hers bathrooms in his penthouse.

  I can do this, I tell myself. I can. I came here for a different experience. A rustic experience, and that is what I’m getting.

  At least, thank God, there’s another separate toilet.

  Fionn carries my suitcase into the room. I can’t help but notice the effortless way he carries it, as if it weighs nothing, and the way his arms flex as he sets it down. “There you go, pretty lady.”

  “Thank you,” I say and go back to staring at the room I’m to stay in. For now.

  I feel Fionn’s presence at my shoulder. “You don’t like it?”

  “I like it fine.” I turn to Fionn, giving him a smile to alleviate the frown on his face. “Killian doesn’t want me here,” I explain.

  “Don’t you worry about Mr. Grumpy.” Fionn smiles. “He�
�ll come around.”

  “Sure,” I say unconvinced.

  Fionn is being so sweet and friendly with me, I just want to sink into his arms and cry, to tell him everything that has happened to me in the last twenty-four hours. Holy shit. Has it only been a day since my life shattered? How quickly things can change. Yesterday I was waking up in a penthouse in New York next to my fiancé. Today, I’m a single jobless woman in a remote farm in Ireland.

  I almost fall apart. But Fionn’s hand sliding on my shoulder anchors me to the present. That simple touch is enough to keep me standing.

  “Hey,” he says quietly, “not sure what your story is, Savannah, and you don’t have to tell me, but know that you are safe here. I won’t let anything harm you.”

  You are safe here.

  For a second, I almost believe him. I want to believe him.

  “What makes you think I have a story?” I fight to hold his stare, my throat tightening. It’s as if he can read my thoughts.

  Perhaps they just bleed through my face. Theo always said I was the worst liar because my emotions played out for everyone to see. I could never hide them.

  I think that’s partly why I am so good at my job. Marketing is all about emotions, about telling a story about the product you’re selling, about making people feel things, want things.

  Fionn smiles at me, part reassurance, part sadness, his thumb brushing back and forth on my shoulder sending tingles through my body. “No city girl decides to travel across the Atlantic to take a volunteer position on a farm in Ireland on a whim without there being a story behind it. Besides, we all have a story.”

  I can hear the slight twist in his tone when he says this last sentence.

  “What’s your story, then?”

  For a second I see a crack in his jovial, good-time, country-boy demeanor. I see the deep sadness underneath.

  Then his mask slides back into place. He grins and lets out a chuckle. “Everyone except me, of course.”

  I don’t call him out. I don’t push, not yet.

  He leaves me to get settled.

  I sigh and lie across the bed, just breathing. The clutter and mess of New York feels so far away.

  I like it here. The air is clean, the brothers make me feel…safe. And they’re friendly.

  Well, except for Killian. But for some reason, I’m drawn even to him.

  I want to stay.

  But I’m on borrowed time.

  The only reason Killian agreed to let me come back here with them was because he was outvoted by his brothers. Even then, he only agreed to let me stay until my car is fixed. Cormac thinks it should take three days.

  I have three days to convince Killian to let me stay.

  Well, Killian O’Callaghan doesn’t know who he’s dealing with. Savannah Wolff didn’t become the youngest marketing executive of one of the world’s best marketing and PR agencies for no damn reason.

  I’m going to be the best damn volunteer farm help he’s ever seen. After three days, he’ll be begging me to stay.

  Fionn

  Savannah Wolff.

  Goddamn. If that’s how they make them in America, I need to get my ass over there.

  But it’s not just her looks, that wavy blonde hair, those huge blue eyes, those bee-stung lips that whisper all sorts of sinful things. Or that curvy body, those perky tits, slim waist and generous handful of round, tight booty.

  There’s something more going on inside her.

  She’s a sweet girl and a firecracker. Clueless but intelligent in other ways. And the way she handled Aiden’s “condition” was so fucking perfect…so compassionate. So flawless. She barely blinked before she was signing to him. Signing to him. I almost felt jealous sitting in the passenger seat watching them have a whole conversation that I could only pick up pieces of.

  No one has ever treated Aiden with so much care apart from Killian and me.

  This is why I never bring girls back to the farm. I hear what the townsfolk say about Aiden behind his back. Dumb. Stupid. Retarded.

  Half of the fights I get into are over assholes talking shit about my baby brother. Like the one I got into the other night. Not that I’d ever tell Killian that.

  Savannah Wolff is full of surprises.

  One thing I’m not surprised over, though, is how utterly useless she is at moving hay bales.

  “I don’t understand,” she says with a huff, wiping sweat off her brow with the back of her hand. “I go to barre Pilates at least three times a week back in New York.”

  It’s the next morning. Savannah and I are in one of the barns. She’s been trying for a full five minutes to move a single bale and managed to get it one whole meter.

  I tear my eyes off her ass, looking all round and juicy in those jean cutoff shorts she’s wearing. “Bar what?”

  “Barre Pilates. It’s a great workout based on ballet…” she trails off.

  I can’t help but laugh, shaking my head. “Honestly, as much as I like your company, city girl, you’re no use to me out here. Go see what the other boys need help with. Perhaps it’ll require less…muscle.”

  She looks like she’s about to argue with me but obviously thinks better of it and nods. “Sorry I’m no help.”

  “Yer grand, pretty lady.”

  I watch her walk away, her ass swaying, her long slender legs flexing, feeling lightheaded as all the blood surges down to my dick.

  Thank you, barre Pilates.

  My phone beeps in my pocket with a text message. I wipe my hand on my jeans and slip it out.

  Emer: Hey sexy. What r u doin 2nite?

  Ah, Emer. A local girl. Pretty, eyes like the forest moss, long red hair and a temper to match. Which means she is dynamite in bed. She’s probably been the closest thing to a girlfriend as I’ve ever had, meaning that we’ve been off and on (mainly on) whenever she’s been single.

  I go to reply but pause.

  Strange. Usually I’d be up for a night with Emer. She’s always great craic. But for some reason, I don’t feel like it.

  I slip my phone back into my pocket, text unanswered, and look up, catching the last glimpse of Savannah before she disappears.

  Savannah

  I leave Fionn, embarrassed at my inability to move a stupid hay bale, cursing barre Pilates for being insufficient to prepare me for any real physical labor. The heaviest thing I had to move in New York was an armful of shopping bags from the cab to my apartment. Who would have known that the latest spring collection at Hermès isn’t as dense or difficult to move as tied up bits of straw?

  I walk quietly through the farmhouse trying to find Aiden, hoping to all hell to avoid Mr. Grumpy.

  Thankfully, I catch Aiden before he heads out the front door.

  “Do you need help with anything?” I ask him.

  Please need me for something.

  He frowns as he signs, “You weren’t helping Fionn?”

  “Fionn…um, he doesn’t need me.”

  Thankfully, Aiden doesn’t push for details. He brightens up. “You can come with me to town. Help me get groceries.”

  I smile. “Sure thing.”

  Yes, getting away from this farmhouse, and from Fionn and Mr. Grumpy Pants, is exactly what I want to do.

  After almost climbing in the wrong side of the truck—damn these strange Irish and their driving on the wrong side of the road—Aiden and I sit in comfortable silence as he drives into town. I keep glancing over to his handsome profile, curiosity building in me at why he won’t speak. My fingers itch to sweep that shock of dark hair out of his thick eyelashes.

  He pulls up to the same grocery store where we’d stopped when I first met the brothers. We split the grocery list and arrange to find each other when we’re done. I wander the store picking things off the shelves from the list.

  When I’m done, I head back towards the fruit and vegetable section where I’d last seen Aiden.

  As I walk through the piles of fruit I hear a raised female voice coming from the other side
of a mound of Pink Lady apples. I shift the grocery basket on my hip and round the corner, halting in shock.

  A redheaded woman is yelling right in Aiden’s face.

  “Where is Fionn?”

  Aiden is just staring at her, eyes wide with panic, his body tense and leaning back. He’s too much of a gentleman to shove her aside and walk away. Too polite to give her the big fat middle finger that she deserves.

  “Oh, for God’s sake. Say something, you big dumb eejit.” She lets out a noise of exasperation. “Why am I bothering with you?”

  My blood boils.

  “Aiden’s not deaf, you idiot,” I snap, stepping up to Aiden’s side. “Stop yelling at him.”

  Red’s fierce green eyes snap to me. “Who the feck are you?”

  The tone of her voice reminds me of Cecily, my ex-best friend. And my mother. They all have the same snide tone wrapped in shards of ice. The same glaring full-body assessment that feel like claws. This girl is trouble. So much trouble. What does she want with Fionn, anyway?

  I force myself not to react the way I want; to rub down my arms that have goosebumps on them. Instead I meet her gaze with a steady glare of my own, a shield that I cultivated working and living among New York’s finest sharks.

  “Who I am is none of your damn business. And neither is bothering Aiden. So shoo.” I wave at her as if she was a fly. Then turn to Aiden. “Are you done? Let’s go.”

  Aiden stares at me with wide eyes.

  I hear spluttering coming from Red. “Excuse me?”

  I give her the briefest cursory glance. “Don’t you have a cauldron somewhere to stir?”

  Red’s cheeks turn…well, the color of her moniker, her mouth opening and closing until she turns on her heel and storms away.

  I take Aiden’s arm and together we walk out of the store. I get into the truck as Aiden loads the shopping bags into the trunk. He gets into the driver’s seat and pauses.