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

  Something smells amazing, the air rich with spices and something meaty.

  It smells so damn amazing I forget why I came into the dining room in the first place.

  The dining table is set with four places, a plethora of dishes in the center. Aiden and Fionn are already seated as Savannah carries something from the oven wearing mitts. My stomach lets out another longer, more insistent growl. Aiden, who usually does our cooking, is great, but his culinary skills extend to sandwiches, pasta and pan-fried meat.

  “What is this?” I ask.

  “Dinner.” Savannah places a steaming dish of lasagna in the center of the table and pulls off her oven mitts. She takes a seat between Fionn and Aiden.

  The three of them stare at me as I stand motionless, unsure of what to do.

  Savannah points to the empty chair. “Sit.”

  I find myself pulling in my chair and draping the thick cloth napkin over my lap. Cloth napkins, for God’s sake. I’d forgotten we even had these. They were a wedding present my parents had received. My ma used to bring them out for special occasions, making sure to wash them after each use, lovingly ironing and folding them for next time. Where did Savannah find them?

  I look up and inspect the table further. There are three lit tapered candles set in a polished silver holder in the center of the table. Candles. And that silver holder. I’d forgotten about them, too. They were an anniversary present for our parents that us boys bought them just before they passed away. We’d never gotten to use them.

  The candlelight sends a soft glow throughout the room and across the smiling faces of my two brothers, the two people I love the most in this whole fucking world.

  We haven’t had a female presence in the house since Ma passed away. No candles. No napkins. No delicate female touches.

  Us three brothers haven’t sat down to eat together in…in a damn long time. Fionn is usually out or avoiding me. I often ate dinner in my office as I poured over my computer, staring at supplier emails or at sales forecasts. And Aiden…hell, I don’t know where he usually eats. Guilt floods me.

  Savannah leans over the table as she cuts the lasagna into squares and dishes it out, giving us three boys generous servings and herself a smaller one. She sits and waves her arm across the table. “I’ll let you take what vegetables you want yourself.”

  Along with the lasagna, she has a basket of what smells like freshly baked rolls, bowls of steamed corn cobs, peas and carrots, all gleaming with butter, and a cauliflower and broccoli cheesy bake. Fionn and Aiden snatch up serving spoons and pile their plates up with veg. I quietly do the same to the sounds of Fionn and Aiden groaning over bites of food.

  Before I take my first bite, I glance around the table. Fionn is already telling one of his “the other night I was so drunk, I…” stories. Aiden is smiling, punctuating Fionn’s story with hand gestures, and Savannah is laughing, clear and unrestrained.

  I watch Savannah for a few moments. I notice the way her hair falls in her face, how her dainty fingers tuck the wayward locks behind her shell-like ears and the way she laughs with her whole body. My chest feels strangely warm.

  I could get used to this.

  This is…nice.

  She glances over to me, catching my eye. I scowl, internally cursing to myself that she’s caught me staring. Can she read the thoughts going through my head across my face?

  “I hope it’s all okay, Killian.” I hate that she sounds unsure.

  You did that, asshole.

  I stab the lasagna with my fork and place the first bite in my mouth. I can almost hear the collective holding of breath as the three of them wait for my verdict.

  It is…fucking amazing.

  The meat sauce is rich and full, the pasta cooked to perfection and the white sauce on top just delivers enough creaminess to round out the bite. I have to repress my groan.

  “I haven’t eaten this good since…Ma’s cooking,” Fionn says, his eyes on me. “Don’t you think, Killian?”

  I grunt and shovel another forkful of food into my mouth. Okay, so we’ve found out Savannah can cook.

  I catch Fionn and Aiden trading smiles. I know what they’re thinking. They think they’ve won. They haven’t won. She’s not staying.

  Okay. Maybe Savannah can stay. But just for a few more days.

  Savannah

  It’s after dinner—a success, if I do say so myself—and the dishes have been cleared away, leftovers stored in the fridge. Aiden is in the kitchen washing up.

  “Anyone for a drop?” Fionn shakes a half-full bottle of Jameson whiskey, looking at me.

  I don’t know why but I glance over to Killian as if asking for permission.

  “I still have work to do,” Killian says, pushing up from his chair.

  Fionn rolls his eyes. “Sounds fun.”

  Killian bristles, the sarcasm in Fionn’s voice not lost on either of us.

  “Don’t be fecking hungover tomorrow like always.”

  Fionn rolls his eyes. “Yes, Dad.”

  “You,” Killian points a thick finger at me. “Your job is to keep him from writing himself off and making himself useless. Again. He needs to start fucking pulling his weight around here.”

  I’m shocked at how Killian can talk about his brother in such a manner and in front of me, practically a stranger. At least my parents and I keep our dirty laundry hidden from public view.

  I take a deep breath to argue with Killian, to defend Fionn, who has been nothing but kind to me, but Killian turns on his heel and storms out the room before I can.

  “Just you and me then, city girl.” Fionn grins at me but it looks forced. Killian’s disapproval is like a heavy blanket even after he’s gone.

  Fionn grabs two glasses from a side cabinet and pours us two fingers each before handing me mine. I catch the flash of sadness in his face as he slumps into an armchair.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  “Fine.” Fionn sucks down his entire glass of whiskey before smacking his lips and pouring himself another glass.

  I set down my glass, untouched, walk over to his chair and perch on the arm, gently grabbing his glass and setting it aside before he can skull back more whiskey.

  “I don’t think you’re useless,” I say softly.

  Fionn snorts. “I don’t give a shit what Killian thinks about me.”

  But I can see the pain within him, showing through the cracks in his mask.

  I reach out and push back a lock of his dark hair. It’s soft, softer than I expected it’d be.

  Fionn glances up, a look of surprise on his face. Our eyes meet. Something flutters inside my stomach. He grabs me around the waist and pulls me to sit on his lap. His arms slide around me and he places his chin on the top of my head. He lets out a long sigh. I don’t protest because I can feel he needs this touch. This closeness.

  I rest my head against his chest. Besides, it feels so good, so right, to sit here wrapped up in him.

  “If you could do anything, what would you do?” I ask.

  He shrugs. I feel the movement rather than see it.

  “What are you good at?” I try.

  Fionn snorts. “If you ask Killian, nothing.”

  “I’m asking you.”

  “Apart from drinking and fuc— sorry, I mean, making love?”

  I flush at his admission, my body heating. I want to squirm but I don’t dare move in his lap. I bet he’d be good in bed. I bet he’d be fun and expressive, passionate and up for anything.

  The opposite of Theo.

  Huh, funny that this is the first time all day that I’ve even thought of Theo. In fact, I don’t think I’ve thought of Theo since I first arrived on the farm.

  What does that mean? Does that mean I’m not in love with Theo?

  Was I ever really?

  I shake off these thoughts. Now’s not the time to dwell on me.

  “Yes,” I say to Fionn, “what are you good at apart from…those things.”

  There is a long paus
e. I can sense Fionn weighing something up. He stands suddenly and I yelp at the movement. I don’t fall because he’s holding me up like I weigh nothing.

  Our gazes lock. His dark chocolate eyes, usually so full of light and joy, are serious and intense.

  My breath hitches. My mouth parts. For a moment I think he might kiss me.

  For a moment, I pray he does.

  He sets me down onto my feet and clears his throat. “Let me show you something.”

  I nod. And I remind myself, Fionn is my boss. I made that mistake once. I will not do it again. No matter how sexy he is or how kind he is to me. No matter how much I actually like him. Right?

  Fionn takes me by the hand and leads me out the back of the farmhouse. Outside the night air is cool, the sky is clear enough that I can see so many stars. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen stars like this. You can’t see them properly in New York because of all the pollution and lights of the city.

  He leads me to a shed at the bottom of the back garden, overgrown and full of weeds. My room looks out over this back garden. It has so much potential. It’s a shame that it isn’t being put to better use.

  I used to garden with my sister when she was alive and still living with us. Being in the city, we could only grow vegetables and lettuce in pots that we kept on the roof of our family penthouse. She got such joy out of planting seeds, watching them grow under our care and finally picking the produce of our labor and eating them. She would have sat outside and watch over the little seedlings all day if we’d let her.

  I make a mental note to ask if I can clear out the back garden and attempt to grow some things. If I stay.

  Fionn pulls me into the shed. He switches on the light and I blink as my vision comes into focus.

  It’s a work shed. Filled with workbenches, tools and pieces of wood and metal stored neatly on a rack along one wall. I walk in farther, glancing around. I feel like I’ve stepped into Fionn’s secret place. His secret hideout.

  I spot a small mattress in the back corner, a pillow and folded blanket on it. He must sleep out here sometimes. Perhaps this is where Fionn goes when his brother thinks he’s out partying all night.

  “I like fixing things,” Fionn says. “Building things. Making things. I’m good with my hands. I love imagining something in my head and then creating it, watching it appear in real life.”

  “You’re an inventor,” I say, as I stare at the sheets of paper that line the wall of the shed. It looks like plans for some kind of machine, but I can’t figure out what. “What is this?”

  Fionn comes up to stand right beside me, his shoulder brushing against mine, sending waves of heat through my arm. “Plans for a new milking parlor for the cattle. I could build it for much cheaper than we could buy it.”

  “Killian doesn’t know about any of this, does he?” I say.

  Fionn gives me a one-shouldered shrug. “He wouldn’t care.”

  “He would.” I turn to Fionn. “Killian loves you.”

  Fionn scoffs. “He has a funny way of showing it.”

  I turn back to the plans on the wall, my heart hurting over the strained relationship between the two oldest brothers. Killian just needs to see how talented Fionn is.

  If this works, it’d be brilliant. Killian would be so impressed.

  “How long will it take you to make this parlor?” I ask.

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t have all the materials.”

  “So buy them.”

  Fionn says nothing, a bitter look stealing over his face.

  A realization hits me. “Killian manages all the money for the farm, doesn’t he?”

  Fionn nods. “Of course he does. He’s the ‘responsible one’.” Fionn says these last two words in a mocking tone.

  “Then you need to ask him for it.”

  “He won’t go for it.”

  “Have you ever spoken to him about it? Shown him these plans?”

  “No. And I won’t.”

  “Why? How do you know he—?”

  “I just know him.”

  “But if you could just—”

  “Let it go, Savannah,” Fionn snaps with a growl. “Killian doesn’t even know about this shed. He doesn’t know what I can do. Even if you showed him, he wouldn’t believe it. He doesn’t believe in me.” He’s almost yelling now.

  My heart is breaking for him. “But—”

  Fionn lets out a gruff noise and turns on his heel, storming to the exit. “I’m going to bed and you should, too. I’ve got to get up early in the morning. I have real work to do.”

  I stare at the plans on the wall for one last moment before I follow a silent, broody Fionn back to the house, hopelessness chasing me into my bed.

  Killian

  I stare at the blurry numbers on the spreadsheet. I can’t focus. I’m tired because I couldn’t sleep last night, dread curling around my body as my ears pricked for the sounds of Savannah and Fionn bonding over their shared bottle of whiskey. Laughing. Talking.

  And…more.

  Fionn had always been the outgoing brother, the fun one, the charming one. The one that all the girls flocked to. The one they wanted.

  Why would Savannah be any different?

  I shouldn’t have left them alone last night.

  I get a flash of Savannah smiling at Fionn just as I left them alone in the living room. Something stabs me in my guts.

  Jealous. I’m jealous of my younger brother.

  I growl as I swipe my hand through my hair. I am the worst brother ever.

  I try to focus on the spreadsheet again…

  Are they both still in bed? With each other? Does he get to kiss those plump lips of hers and touch her soft skin? Why him? Why does he get to have her and I don’t?

  When I woke up this morning the doors to both their bedrooms were closed. I couldn’t hear anything inside either as I stood in front of both of them for several minutes each. That doesn’t mean anything, though. They were probably up all night, getting naked, enjoying each other’s—

  Savannah bursts through my office door.

  I bristle, my jaw clenching at seeing the source of my bitter and terrible feelings. “Ever heard of knocking?”

  Savannah flinches. I instantly regret snapping at her. I regret being such an asshole around her. I just don’t know how to stop.

  “Killian,” she says, the panic in her sweet voice hitting me in the guts, “you need to come quickly. It’s Fionn.”

  All I can think as I run—as I sprint as hard as I can—is, something has happened to Fionn.

  I was meant to protect him and I failed.

  I ignore Savannah yelling out after me as she struggles to keep up. All I can think of is getting to Fionn.

  Please God, if you let him be okay I’ll be a better brother. I’ll be kinder, I swear. I’ll let him have Savannah and never begrudge him, if that’s what makes him happy. Just let him be okay.

  I burst into the work shed down the end of the garden. I stare around the dusty insides as my lungs burn from my exertion, my mind sending me panicked images of Fionn with an arm cut off or crushed under a machine.

  Something moves in the shadows and Fionn steps into view, wiping grease off his hands with a dirty rag. My eyes scan over him as panic chokes me.

  He’s not bleeding. All his limbs are intact. In fact, he looks fine, except for a pissed off look on his face.

  The relief is palpable, so strong it almost hurts, flooding my body like ice water.

  “What are you doing here?” he demands, throwing the rag aside.

  We have an unspoken agreement. He stays out of my office, I stay out of his shed.

  What am I doing here? I have no answer. I turn on my heel towards the person who does.

  Savannah Wolff. The troublemaker who is standing at the doorway of the shed.

  “Savannah, what the hell?” I ask.

  She has the nerve to look unapologetic, one hand casually on her j
utting hip. “I didn’t think you’d tear yourself away from your damn work otherwise. Besides, I didn’t actually say that anything was wrong. You just assumed it.”

  “Because you sounded panicked,” I say with a frustrated growl.

  “Savannah,” Fionn growls, “I told you I didn’t want this.”

  “You,” she points at Fionn over my shoulder, “your idea is brilliant. You are brilliant. You need to stop being so damn unsure of yourself and afraid of him.” She points at me, then sends me a glare as if Fionn’s problems are all my fault.

  They’re not my fault. Right?

  “You have to be kidding me,” I mutter. Savannah sent me down here in a goddamn panic to what? Foster a brother bonding session?

  Savannah straightens. “Now you’re here anyway, you might as well hear what Fionn has to say. Fionn,” she gives him a sharp look,” tell him.”

  Something passes between them, a silent conversation. Fionn’s told her things. Secrets. Things I don’t know. The intimacy between them cuts me to my core.

  Strangely, this time I am jealous of her.

  Fionn is my brother. My baby brother. He should be coming to me with things, telling me things, not her.

  I turn to Fionn, my jaw tight. “What is she talking about?”

  Behind me I hear the shed door close. Savannah is gone. It’s just me and Fionn.

  Fionn says nothing. He just stands there, the pissed off look still on his face. I don’t know whether he’s mad at me or at Savannah.

  Probably me.

  Now that I know he’s fine, I take in my surroundings. I can’t remember the last time I even came in here.

  Shit, when did this shed get so full of tools and equipment and stuff? It was nearly empty when Fionn took it over.

  I spot a metal forge. Woodworking machines. Racks of saws and hammers and boxes of screws and nails. It’s all so neatly ordered. It’s almost unlike Fionn, his bedroom is always a mess.

  Has Fionn been making stuff in here? Fionn makes things? How did I not know this about my own damn brother? Guilt threads through me. And a quiet voice in me whispers that maybe Savannah is right.

  I spot sheets of paper up on a wall. They’re plans. Plans for some kind of large machine. I walk towards it, familiarity tickling my insides. I know what this is.